Financial Matters

Today wasn’t going very well for Carmen.

            For starters, the apartment was a mess. That wasn’t unusual because Carmen lived there, but when Carmen noticed the apartment was a mess, that meant the apartment was really a mess. Really, it looked like a tornado had torn through the kitchen. There was a tower of baking utensils in the sink, powdered sugar blanketed the counter, and Carmen was pretty sure chocolate was what was on the ceiling, though she wasn’t quite sure how it had gotten there.

            Carmen had been awake for approximately seven minutes before her client called to request that their cake be delivered earlier.

            “I love my job. I love my job.” Carmen mumbled as she meticulously decorated the cake. “My girlfriend is going to kill me because the dog got cocoa powder in the carpet and I got chocolate on the ceiling, but I love my job.”

            “Perhaps you could use some assistance.” Someone spoke from behind her. She swore loudly, whirling around and striking the intruder with her spatula. Said intruder – a very apathetic-looking individual – merely reached into his pocket for a cloth to wipe the chocolate off his face with. He looked absolutely inconvenienced as he did so.

            “Who the hell are you?” Carmen demanded, ripping her ear buds from her ear.

            “Owen.” The man answered. “And manners.” Carmen tightened her grip on the spatula.

            “Oh, I’ll show you manners—“ Carmen started.

            “If you must really know,” he continued, paying no regard to her as she raised her arms to strike him again, “I’m an angel. You have noticed the glowing, haven’t you?”

            Carmen hadn’t, but now that he mentioned it, he was glowing faintly. She lowered the spatula a bit. “So, what – you’re my guardian angel or something?” She scoffed. “Here to protect me from imminent danger?”

            “Accountant, actually.”

            Carmen stopped for a moment, raising an eye brow at him. “There’s . . . accountants in heaven?”

            “Purgatory, actually. It’s very difficult to find work in heaven these days. Competition and all that.”

            Carmen tossed the spatula into the sink and grabbed another one. “So,” she asked, returning her attention to the cake in front of her, “why did Purgatory send a guardian accountant to me?”

            “For starters, you have overdrawn your banking account, buying baking supplies mind you. Of course, had you been properly keeping track of your finances, you would not be in this predicament and I would still be on vacation.” At the mentioning of said vacation, Owen let out a very long sigh. “Rest assured, I will help you save your business.”

            “Wait,” Carmen said, blinking, “save my business?”

            He slid into the bar stool on the other side of the counter, and Carmen realized then that this was really happening. Not only was she going to have to explain to her girlfriend later the mess that was their apartment, but she was also going to have to explain that her finances were such a mess that an immortal accountant had been sent to her aid.

            Carmen was certain that meant she was failing as an adult.

            “I always keep my promises.” He answered. “But first, coffee.”

            And Carmen couldn’t disagree with that – it was only eight in the morning, after all – so she wordlessly passed him a mug and the pot of coffee. He began scanning over what suspiciously looked like her bank statements, cup in hand, and Carmen set to work with finishing the cake’s decorations.