BETTY'S GIFT

      Calling her “Bargain Basement Betty” was only an affectionate joke. 

      Her relatives gave Aunt Betty that nickname after they found out that the retired bookkeeper prowled around "deep discount" stores all year to buy her Christmas gifts  for the family at the lowest possible prices.

      No one doubted that her presents came with love. The problem was that Betty often bought clothing items in outrageous colors and styles which were "on sale specials"  because nobody wanted them. When those packages were opened, recipients smiled politely while groaning silently, thinking -- "well, that's Bargain Basement Betty."

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Betty, who had never married,  was my wife's aunt. She and the rest of my in-laws  -- about 20 in all -- always celebrated Christmas together in or near Cleveland, Ohio because they lived in the area. We had to drive a whole day from home to join them. 

      Most of them were married, past the age of 40 and proud of their Roman Catholic heritage. Although they took turns hosting,  their Christmas gatherings were much the same each year –  lots of good food, no alcohol and then a very long gift exchange.

      "Just what I wanted” were the four words all the gift givers wanted to hear. 

      Repeatedly.

      The first time I went, my wife and I were newlyweds and my in-laws were the hosts.  There were decorations throughout the house, ornaments on a freshly cut Scotch Pine tree, and many presents wrapped in green or red with gold and silver ribbon. 

       \When gift-giving was about to commence, people began to take seats. I heard laughs after some muffled “Bargain-Basement Betty” comments as a man wearing a Santa hat started handing out packages – one at a time and “announcing” the names of the giv-er and  the giv-ee for each one. The pace was painfully slow.

      But Betty seemed to enjoy every minute, especially as her presents were being unwrapped.

      What a bunch she amassed!

     Bold plaid shirts in red, black and white that only a lumberjack might love.

      Chartreuse sweaters which had to be one-of-a-kind.

      Scarves in maize and blue, perfect for the University of Michigan.

      There was one other thing. Although her gifts often came in boxes with names of fashionable stores, Betty wasn’t fooling anyone. Relatives knew all about her forays in discount stores.

      As the years slipped by, I got used to the “Bargain-Basement Betty" jokes, and got to know more about this woman, who always wore plain, simple clothing at odds with the garish hues of her Christmas presents..

      One day, I went to visit her at her apartment and got the clear impression that she couldn’t have much of a pension. She lived in a modest, one-bedroom unit in an aging high-rise building and much of her furniture was worn out. The best thing about the place was a balcony where she could tend to her plants and survey the neighborhood.

      I also began to appreciate Betty’s warmth and friendliness. She preferred to ask us about our lives, rather than talk about hers. And despite her frugal lifestyle, she rarely complained or uttered a cross word about anything. She was so upbeat that it looked as if she was enjoying life.

      But that, too, was deceiving. Betty never learned to drive, so going places and making friends was challenging.. She rarely left the apartment  except to shop for groceries, and then had to rely on sporadic bus service.

      Even before moving to the apartment, Betty avoided social events so that she could help her younger sister, Ellen. They lived in the same old frame house where they grew up. She left only after Ellen died of cancer.

      Over the years, we all could see that Betty’s health was declining. One day, while talking to Jane, her older sister, Betty voiced concern that she might not have sufficient money to cover her funeral expenses. 

      But Jane knew Betty had more than enough in the bank to pay those final bills. Was she growing delusional? 

      Not long afterward, Betty died.  A small church service drew only her family and a few friends, who then bade farewell at her graveside.

      A few days later, a lawyer called Jane to say Betty had designated her to be executor of the estate. Could she come to his office to sign some papers?

      That's when Betty’s secret was disclosed. 

      It turned out that every month she had used some of her paycheck to purchase interest-bearing federal bonds, and then renewed them at maturity rather than cash them in. 

      She also was putting a significant chunk of her salary into a savings account and buying certificates of deposit whenever she had enough money set aside. Eventually, she reinvested those funds. 

      In addition, she  recorded all the transactions in a notebook. like the accountant she was.

      The assets kept mounting, but she told no one,  not even her sisters.

      At death, she was sitting on more than half a million dollars!

      Why was she so frugal? Why did she haunt bargain basement stores? Had she become eccentric or worse, and totally lost track of her wealth? 

      Betty took the answers to her grave.

      In her will, she left everything to her sister Jane, with instructions to keep what she needed and spread the rest around the family — particularly helping those who had school-age kids.

      Maybe none of Betty's relatives will ever really be able to understand, but one thing's for sure — they will not forget the last Christmas presents she left. 

Richard Lerner was a reporter, writer and editor for news organizations in Washington, DC and California.