This is the story of Rich Raggington, the sim who founded the Raggington Legacy. A legacy that will stretch over many generations, in pursuit of a billion simoleons.
Rich started with nothing. He was a teenage drifter, homeless, penniless and alone. Rich had no family, a juvenile prison being the last place he could call a home. In this small town he didn´t even know the name of, he stayed the night, preparing some hotdogs he stole from a gas station on the road.
After he had eaten he spent the night right there in the bushes, using the only possesion he had, his sleeping bag. The next morning he found a museum, curiously empty, except for an easel. Rich had always liked to draw, but he had never before tried to paint. He lost track of time.
Then something drew his attention.
She was the first person to walk in all day, and once he saw her he was bewitched.
Rich had litterally nothing to lose. He walked up to her and introduced himself in a friendly manner.
Her name was Ginger. It was as if they had known eachother all their lives, rather than they had just met. For a while, Rich forgot all about his misery. As all good things it came to an end. She had to go home. Rich knew only one thing; she lived in this small town. So would he.
It was already getting dark outside, but Rich knew where he was going. He had noticed a community garden as he walked into town the day before. Rich hurriedly picked a few apples and spent the night in the little shed on the lot. He had trouble falling asleep, the thought of her wouldn´t leave his mind. What if she came back to the museum and he wasn´t there?!
The next morning he filled his bag with as many tomatoes and apples he could carry and went back to the museum.
Rich used the sink in the museum bathroom for a sponge bath.
When he was clean and had eaten another couple of apples he went back to painting. He painted all day and he hardly even noticed that it had become dark outside.
Rich had forgotten his sleeping bag over at the community garden, and he spent the night on a sofa at the museum. He was in luck, there was no security patrolling the museum at night.
Rich woke up bright and early on that third day in the small town. He started on another painting, eager to lose himself in the brush strokes or he would start worrying about her. Ginger.
Rich ate tomatoes and apples, he made them last all day. He didn´t know where Ginger lived, or her last name. If he wanted to meet her agin he had to stay in the museum so that she could find him. He took another sponge bath and broke the sink. Fixing it gave him an hour of distraction from thinking of her.
Another night on the sofa, and when morning came he started on a painting, knowing he had to go back to the community garden for more produce and for his sleeping bag. As comfortable the sofa was, he needed his sleeping bag so that he could chose his sleeping spots where he could not be seen.
The thought of leaving the museum, just for a little while, made him anxious.
That´s when it happened.
Before he knew it he kissed her, and she kissed him back. They spent hours together. Ginger said she had problems at home, but she didn´t elaborate. Mainly they kissed.
That night Rich could safely return to the community garden, stock up on produce and sleep in his sleeping bag, because now he knew her name and she had told him where she lived. Ginger Milton. He would visit her the next day.
The next day Rich visited the consignement shop and asked the woman behind the counter to sell his paintings. She said she would let him know if she found buyers. Looking out the shop window, for the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, Rich felt at ease.
It was still early that fourth day. Rich decided to paint another painting, then he would see Ginger. He wanted to be able to do something with her, perhaps eat at the diner. He didn´t want her to know he was a homeless drifter.
It was only noon when Rich handed his last painting to the consignement lady. She smiled and told him she had sold one of his paintings and gave him 200 simoleons. With money in his pocket Rich went to Gingers home.
She seemed happy to see him, she even gave him a hug.
They walked into town, there was another kiss. Rich didn´t even know who initiated it.
Rich asked if she wanted to eat at the diner. She did.
Over dinner, Rich told Ginger about him not having a home. He assured her he would soon buy his lot and build a house. Ginger seemed to understand. He told her about his life, and she said she felt as if they had always known eachother. She said the were the same.
Just as they had finished their meal her phone rang and she excused herself saying she needed to go home. She told him she was sorry.
Rich was still happy. She had to go home, but they would meet again soon. He couldn´t picture a day without Ginger.
Rich went back to the museum. Just in case she could sneak out he wanted to be where she could find him.
Rich finished another painting, then he went to sleep on the top floor of the museum.
The next day, day five, Rich went back to the consignement store and gave them his latest painting. The woman had sold two more of his paintings, and this time she gave Rich more than 500 simoleons!
Rich hung around for a while, hoping she would sell more of his paintings.
He was paid another 650 simoleons. The lady said his paintings were on high demand.
That night he went to see Ginger. She greeted him but didn´t invite him in. Rich knew this was because he had told her the truth. She was ashamed of him.
This required some heavy brooding in the rain.
He slept in the shed at the community garden that night, stomach full with fruit.
When morning came Rich was lost in thought.
He went to the consignement store and collected his money. The lady smiled brightly and handed him over 1000 simoleons. Rich didn´t even feel happy about it.
He sat down outside of the consignement store and started on a letter for Ginger. He needed to get things off his chest, and writing a letter seemed like a good way to do it.
That night Rich went to see Ginger again. He wanted to give her the letter. They barely had time to greet, before a man stepped out of the house, his sinister gaze fixed on Rich.
The man told Rich to stay away from Ginger. That he wasn´t good enough for her.
“Get off my lawn!” He confluded, swinging a riding crop in his right hand.
Rich went back to the museum. He didn´t even get the chance to tell Ginger how well his paintings sold. He worried she too thought of him as a good for nothing loser.
The following morning Rich discovered that the door to the bathroom was unlocked. He treated himself to a bath. A brooding bath, but still.
That day he painted, he ate peppers at the consignement store while waiting for customers to buy his paintings.
Three more days passed, and then she came.
She told him nothing was wrong, she had just been busy with family. Her uncle Bernard hadn´t let her out off the house until now.
They kissed. He told her of his paintings and that he was trying to get enough money so he could buy that lot. “Then I can build us a house”. He told her. She kissed him again. She said she thought she loved him. He said he knew he loved her.
The days passed. Rich painted. He missed her but he knew she couldn´t see him every day.
When she hadn´t been back to the museum for five days, he went to look for her at school.
And that´s when it happened! His birthday! He looked quite handsome if he may say so himself.
He asked a woman if she had seen Ginger. She said Ginger hadn´t been to school in a few weeks.
He went straight to her house. The uncle be damned. His heart was racing and cold sweat broke out on his forehead when he realized no one lived there anymore. He even looked for clues in the trash.
He went to the only place he knew, the consignement store. The lady who used to sell his paintings weren´t there anymore. She had quit a few simdays back. The guy behind the register didn´t know who Ginger was.
The other clerk was a weird one. Super happy about a wedding apparently.
Rich were looking for Ginger everywhere. He was beginning to think she had left town, when…
There she was! All grown up, just like him. She was just as pretty as he rememberd her.
Before he had a chance to talk to her, she walked into the bar.
Rich followed her. His heart was tugged along after her by a string. He had no choice. It was really her.
Finally she was standing still, close enough to tackle, nearly. But he wouldn´t. He would be very careful not to spook her.
He managed to cut her off as she was about to leave. (The hair and clothes, don´t ask. I had Dresser and I messed up). She seemed happy to see him at first, but as he went in for a hug she drew back – violently.
He went ahead and told her of his feelings for her.
And then he kissed her. Just like old times.
She would have none of it!
At first Rich was angry with how hot and cold, hot and cold, and hot and cold she was. And then she told him she was married. Married to the guy she had been talking to downstairs. Consignement store guy. Creepy wedding guy!
“You can´t be!” Rich told her. “I have finally found you again, an you look different, even from just moments ago, but it´s you!”
She told him this was reality. She was married and that was that. At least that guy could provide for her. At that point Rich feigned boredom. It was either that or crying. And judging by the gender roles she seemed comfortable with, he didn´t think crying would score him any points.
“But I love you…”