At four that afternoon, Dad returned for his payment.
I went with him.
Garrett handed him an envelope.
Dad opened it.
$7,800.
Exactly what he was owed.
“This is correct.”
Richard stood nearby.
He didn’t apologize personally.
Dad didn’t ask him to.
Instead, Dad reached into his jacket.
“The system should run well for at least ten years if it’s maintained properly.”
Richard looked surprised.
“I prepared a maintenance schedule.”
Dad handed him a laminated card.
Richard accepted it.
“Thank you.”
We got back into Dad’s old truck.
I stared at him.
“You actually gave him a maintenance schedule?”
“Yes.”
“After they refused to pay you?”
Dad started the engine.
“I prepare one for every job.”
Then he looked at me.
“Being professional doesn’t depend on whether the other person behaves professionally.”
He pulled onto the road.
“It depends on whether I do.”
The following afternoon, Martin arrived from New Mexico.
He asked to meet Dad.
So we went to Eleanor’s house.
Martin stood when Dad entered.
“You found something my family believed was lost forever.”
Dad nodded.
“And you did the right thing.”
“Yes.”
Martin explained that the collection had already received a preliminary assessment.
Eleanor had been correct about the rare pocket watch.
It came from a Parisian maker around 1892.
Estimated value:
About $40,000.
The entire collection could be worth between $80,000 and $90,000.
Dad barely reacted.
“I tried not to disturb the box when I excavated around it.”
“I know,” Martin said. “That matters.”
Dad’s photographs and notes had preserved the provenance of the collection.
That history could significantly affect its value.
“You preserved the story,” Martin told him.
Dad shrugged.
“I kept notes.”
“I always keep notes.”
Martin smiled.
“My father would have liked you.”
Then he said he wanted to give Dad something.
“A finder’s fee.”
Dad immediately refused.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“It is to me.”
“I was already paid for the pool.”
“This isn’t for the pool.”
Martin explained that Dad had done something valuable simply by choosing not to take advantage of an opportunity.
He had found property worth tens of thousands of dollars and had gone out of his way to reunite it with the correct family.
“I want to give you $5,000.”
Dad frowned.
“That’s too much.”
“It isn’t.”
Martin held his gaze.
“Please take it.”
Eventually Dad agreed.
On the drive home, he remained quiet.
“Five thousand dollars,” I finally said.
“Yes.”
“For finding a box.”
“For doing what I was supposed to do.”
“That’s the point.”
“What is?”
“Maybe doing what you’re supposed to do has become rarer than it should be.”
Dad thought about that.
Then shook his head.
“You still shouldn’t do the right thing because you expect a reward.”
“I agree.”
“If you start calculating what honesty might produce, it stops being honesty.”
He looked through the windshield.
“You do the right thing because it’s right.”
“And then sometimes good things happen.”
“Sometimes.”
He smiled slightly.
“Not always.”
Then he added:
“But sometimes.”
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
Richard.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Julie.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to know that what Melissa said about your employment was inappropriate.”
I stayed quiet.
“Your position here depends only on your performance. And your performance has been excellent.”
“I appreciate you saying that.”
Richard paused.
Then:
“Your father is very thorough.”
I glanced toward Dad.
“Yes.”
“I underestimated how thorough.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t again.”
He wished me goodnight and ended the call.
Dad asked who it was.
“Richard.”
“And?”
“He told me my job is safe.”
Dad nodded.
“I knew it would be.”
“How?”
“Because Richard is smart.”
Dad kept his eyes on the road.
“Smart people usually recognize when a situation creates unnecessary exposure.”
“You really knew all of this would happen.”
“No.”
“I knew the work was correct.”
He tapped the old spiral notebook sitting on his dashboard.
“I knew my records were complete.”
“I knew the box wasn’t mine.”
“I knew I had called the correct people.”
