An afternoon call on a peaceful Tuesday began things.
Though local, the number was unfamiliar. I usually let it go to voicemail, but something made me pick up.
Is this Amelia Chin? deep, professional voice.
“Yes. Who’s this?
My name is Frank DeMarco. On Riverside, I operate DeMarco’s Pawn & Gold. I think I have something yours. A Rolex Submariner.”
My stomach sank. “Not possible. I have my dad’s watch— Opening my desk drawer. It vanished.
“Ma’am?”
The watch, I murmured, almost breathlessly. The item is missing.
I guessed. I’d rather explain in person. Can you visit the shop?”
Hands shaking, I left work immediately. My sole inheritance from Dad was the watch.
I traced the back etching daily: May time always favor my daughter Amelia. Love, Dad.
He wore it to work, supper, and chemo.
After his wrist thinned, he presented it to me with somber eyes. Mia, it’s yours. Only yours.”
That was three years ago. Two years before Mom remarried Richard and his son, Tyler, arrived in with slick business pitches and a knack for stealing money from neighbors.
DeMarco’s store was between a payday lender and a manicure salon. Frank was heavy, suspicious, and had a gold pinky ring. His countenance softened when he saw me.
“You look like your dad,” he observed. Sometimes he came for tools. Always repaid debts. Solid guy.”
He reappeared with a worn leather box from the back. Inside was the watch. More flimsy and smaller than expected.
“A man brought this in yesterday,” Frank remarked. They said it was his to sell. I doubted.
Your dad pawned it 15 years ago. Repaid quickly. The loan was $3,000. My records indicate you began private education about then.”
A lump formed in my throat.
Despite a scholarship, expenditures mounted. Dad stated he worked additional shifts. He never acknowledged pawning his most valuable item.
Frank leaned forward. “That’s not why I called.” He pushed a watch side button, exposing a compartment I’d never seen. A folded slip of paper was within.
“I didn’t read it,” Frank replied. “Thought it was private.”
With shaky hands, I opened it. Dad’s modest, clear handwriting:
If Mia is reading, the watch may have broken. Visit First National. Safe deposit box 447. My toolbox within the level has the key. You own the watch. But that box contains your future.
Frank waited. You okay?
Need to purchase it back. How much?”
He sighed. “The mid-20s salesman talked nonstop about his app. Took $8,500 cash. The transaction wasn’t filed.”
Wait… so?
“I’ve worked here for years. Even if the thief has a key, I scent something odd. Your dad assisted me when I was broke and my baby was unwell.
Done roofing cheaply. They never mentioned it again. Take the watch. Call it even.”
I thanked him, overwhelmed, and went with the watch on my chest. I went home to find Mom and Richard reviewing papers. Saw me, their faces froze.
I put the watch on the table and said, “I’m looking for this.”
Mom blinked. “Where did—”
Where did I discover my desk watch stolen? The Tyler startup pawn? Only thing Dad left me?”
Richard rose. “Remain calm. Tyler needed money.”
“His third failed venture?” I said. “After the food truck and crypto crash?”
“It’s not stealing,” Richard remarked. We’re family. We share.”
“Like Tyler gives me his trust fund?” Fired back. “That went to a Mercedes and Cabo.”
“Tyler has potential,” Mom replied coldly. “You just sit on things while he builds.”
It existed. They believed I deserved less.
I want my money back. Every cent.”
Richard: “We don’t have it. It’s invested.”
“Then liquidate.” I grabbed the watch. That was reported stolen this morning. I either get repaid or file charges.”
“You wouldn’t,” Mom said.
Tyler committed a felony. Not my issue.”
“We allow your stay!”
“I rent. Above-market.”
“You’re family!”
Dad was my family. You let them take from me without consequence.”
I departed toward the garage. A little key was in Dad’s toolbox on the level.
The First National Bank manager recalled Dad. No queries. A diary, letter, and manila envelope were in the box.
You’ve discovered my backup plan, Mia. Bearer bonds worth $100,000 are in the envelope. Clients and obligations from my contracting firm are in the journal.
Probably another $50,000 if pursued. I wished you time. Time to go or choose. Always silent doesn’t imply you deserve less. It indicates strength. Use wisely. Never let anybody take your time.
All my love,
Dad
Tears obscured eyesight. The ties existed. The journal detailed overdue bills, including one from a current large enterprise.
I stayed at a motel that night.
The following morning, I hired a lawyer. Within weeks, she got $43,000. Construction firm settled instantly.
Tyler’s company failed after three months. Richard requested a loan. I hung up. Mom guilted me via relatives. I emailed them the police report. Quiet ensued.
I bought a small house in Dad’s old neighborhood with the money. My bedside watch ticks steadily.
I open the compartment to remember his faith in me.
No coin counts more than time. I own the watch again, but more crucially, my time. I won’t have it stolen again.
