Do I look like a millionaire?

No.

If you were to pass me on the street, you'd never guess I was particularly wealthy. I look like just another woman wearing blue jeans, sandals, a sleeveless shirt, and no makeup. I don't wear designer clothes. I'm still wearing the same Seiko wrist watch I got as a wedding gift thirty years ago. (And yes, it's still running!) I get my hair cut at a local salon about every two months, when I can find the time. I hate to shop, so I stick to my well-worn pants and soft cotton shirts. I wear no jewelry except a wedding ring. I drive a ten-year-old sedan and have no plans to buy a new car until this one falls apart.

I'm still married to my first and only husband.

I am, in short, very much like the description in that book THE MILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR.

So what do I do with my money? Am I total miser?

Not at all. I own a very, very nice house in a spectacular setting. I own other property -- all of it unique and desirable, and none of it for speculative purposes. I bought these other properties to hold onto for myself because I love them and believe in their inherent worth. And I want to pass them on to my children.

And I do have one major indulgence: I love to travel. I long to see all the countries I never could afford to see when I was younger. I love nothing better than to pack a suitcase and hop on a plane to some new destination.

But to look at me, strolling around town, you might think I was just another middle-aged housewife. If, that is, you'd never seen me before.

The problem is this: people in my town know who I am, and they know I have money.

And this is, indeed, a problem. Because once people know you have money, that's when your life gets complicated.