Built in 2002, the single-family residence, with three bedrooms and two baths, was located approximately a quarter of a mile from the bakery.
The 2,081 square feet brick home sat on five acres of land, offering complete privacy and a superlative view.
Many upgrades included carpet floors, vinyl tiles, granite counters, a top-of-the-line gas range, built-in microwave oven, stainless steel refrigerator, a laundry room, cable TV, central air conditioning, natural gas, forced air heating system, high ceilings with ceiling fans, an enclosed patio, and a finished three-car garage.
The asking price was two hundred and ninety-five thousand dollars. The price was a steal, because a house like this in New York City would cost over seven figures, excluding the acres of land. Because she was paying cash for the property, her bid was two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars. The offer was accepted, and the agent would handle the deal and look after the place until Passion was ready to move in.
It would be another four months before Passion left for Nevada. She did not intend to take any of her old household belongings and decided to surf the Internet for new furnishings and accessories.
While on-line, she received an e-mail from a prison pen pal service called Serving Time Pen Pals Club or STPPC. The organization had been in existence for over thirty years, had thousands of members and published a monthly magazine, which listed personal profiles, photos, and direct contact information of lonely male inmates, all searching for friendship, love, romance, and marriage.
Only non-violent inmates in minimum-security facilities could join and submit ads. Each issue had over five hundred listings.
According to some of the testimonials, many members had gotten married, and some had turned their lives around, because someone had taken the time to care by writing that first letter. An annual subscription to STPPC was thirty-five dollars. She immediately placed an order and could not wait to receive her first copy.
Everyone deserved a second chance, and she was going to employ what she believed in, bringing compassion and spirituality to the gone astray. Moreover, if she found love and romance, then her reaching out would not have been in vain.
Two weeks later, the first issue arrived. The layout of the publication was attractive. As she started to read the personal ads, one particular profile and photo piqued her interest:
My name is Dough, and I am an inmate at a federal correctional facility in Florida. I am a 42-year-old divorced male and wish to correspond with a single female who is open-minded, kind, considerate, and independent for friendship and possibly more. I am fun loving and enjoy baking, cooking, reading, and writing. Meeting new people is one of my goals, but my current situation limits my traveling. My release date is set for December 31. I will promptly answer all letters. So, please write soon.