NOTE: The flowing story is very dark compared to this site’s usual material.
Ponder agreed. And by and by, he had taken care of the horses, gotten them all sold, and had packed up his stuff. He was living alone in the old house, while Jeff took the trouble to try and sell it, too. It gave him time to consider what he would say about the money when he took it in to the bank.
And then one day, he went to the Wachovia in Statesboro, where he did not have an account, so he could test the waters, before he took it to his own bank back home. He went straight to the information desk, which set him up with a man who had an office.
Outside the office, Ponder could see the highway and some trees, whose shadows played on the desk. The man had some sort of award, made out of lucite, which acted like a prism. The rainbow sat on Ponder’s knee, and he stared at it, absently, while he waited for the man to come in.
A short, nervous man in a suit entered, “Sorry to leave you waiting, Mister?”
“Smythe. Chason Smythe.”
“I had an uncle named Chason.”
“Grandfather, myself.” Ponder said.
“So, Dale tells me that you found some money that belonged to your grandfather?”
“Yep. Ol’ granddad was a depression kid. He didn’t trust banks much. He kept a fair amount of his savings in a shoe box. I was wondering how one goes about depositing that much money. If there’s rules. If I got to show anything. Y’know?”
“Well, liquid assets are, liquid assets. Do you have it with you?”
Ponder handed him the bag.
The man looked inside and his eyes widened. He whistled, “Do you know -”
“Almost 40.” Ponder replied.
The man whistled again, and took out one of the uneven stacks that Johansson had re-bundled when he counted it.
“They all this old?” The man asked, looking a bit concerned.
“Yessir, I don’t think he’d been hoarding it for a while. Seems his belief in banks improved with age.” Ponder said. “But money doesn’t have an expiration date, right?”
“Well, ordinarily, no. But these are silver and gold certificates.”
“How’s that?”
“Used to let you take out silver or gold in bullion. They took them out of circulation a long time back. They aren’t legal tender any more.” The man said, still staring, almost as if he was doing math in his head.
Ponder sat forward with a start, his stomach clenching, “You mean they’re worthless?”
“No. I mean, yes, and no. You can’t spend them, legally. I mean, you see them every now and again in store change, but they aren’t legal tender. But, to a collector, well, I’m not sure how much you could get for them, but based on what I’ve seen, this would probably be at least half a million, maybe a full million.”
Ponder’s mouth dropped open.
“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Ponder. Looks like you may not need to work for the rest of your life.”
Ponder wasn’t sure which was worse.
He thanked the man and asked if he could watch the bag while he went to the bathroom.
“Sure.”
Years later the bank teller would still tell the story about that strange young man, and the way he had torn out of the parking lot so quickly, leaving the bag of cash behind. It just didn’t make sense.