Scarlett O’Hara – from riches to rags to riches
“Tomorrow is not another day,” Scarlett sobbed as she took a long hard look at herself in the mirror. Her once shiny raven black hair had grey streaks, her porcelain white skin was dull and dry, and her girlish figure had become plump. She was no longer the Southern belle of her youth. “Scarlett, get off your sorry ass. Forget tomorrow and do something today,” she yelled at her pathetic reflection. “You’re a doer, not a helpless lump!”
The years had also taken their toll on Tara. High maintenance costs and little cash wreaked havoc on the once beautiful mansion. Scarlett knew it was only a matter of time until the bank would be at her door demanding the keys and she would be out on the street. She had to think of something quick.
As she walked from room to room it struck her: Tara was big enough to be a hotel. For the first time in her life Scarlett had no one to save or help her, but she was a survivor and knew she could succeed single handedly. She worked feverishly morning, noon and night, scrubbing floors, polishing silver, sewing bedspreads and gardening to once again make her house magnificent. She also bought hair dye, went on a strict vegetable diet and found a good moisturizer. She was 50 and fabulous!
Scarlett flung open the doors for her grand opening and never looked back. Hotel Tara was a smashing success. Rooms were booked a year in advance. Why stop now, Scarlett asked herself? She suddenly had cash and saw opportunity all around her. She went on a property spending spree. Atlanta was hers for the developing. Who needed Rhett or Ashley; she had buildings with her name on them. Real estate giants from the North phoned constantly begging to buy them.
"Ms. O’Hara, Colonel Trump is calling again.”