Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Warehouse Auction (9)
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We started opening the boxes one by one.
The first box unleashed a strong whiff of old newspaper.
"Ugh, it smells moldy!"
Dorothy wrinkled her nose.
"Whoa, check this out... Houston Chronicle from August 15, 1992."
Sam confirmed the date and let out a dry chuckle. That's how ancient the papers were.
"Yeah. Look at this: 'President George Bush's Re-election Campaign.'"
"This would've been during President Bush Sr.'s time. Ancient history."
The newspapers were yellowed and torn in places when we flipped through them.
They were definitely old, but unfortunately, no real value there.
"Just recycling. Next!"
"Me! I wanna open one!"
Nancy shot her hand up excitedly.
This adorable little princess thought we were playing some kind of game.
"Nancy, hold on! Let me check it first. You never know what might pop out."
Opening the box revealed a pile of old clothes tumbling out, accompanied by a musty stench.
"Ewww! Bugs!"
Nancy jumped back.
Tiny moths were fluttering around.
"Clothes moths. Common in old garments like these."
Sam lifted some fabric with a stick.
"Huh, straight out of the '80s—acid-wash jeans. They were all the rage back then..."
"Couldn't we sell these as vintage?"
Dorothy asked hopefully.
But the condition was rough—holes everywhere, and the smell was brutal. No chance of selling.
"Trash it is."
The third box was pretty heavy.
"...What's making this so heavy?"
Inside were shattered dishes and ceramic shards.
"Aw, man. All broken."
Dorothy picked up a piece.
After inspecting it, she went "Ooh" and showed it to me.
"Look at this. Think it's Fire-King? Vintage collectors love that brand."
"How'd you know?"
"Working at the diner, you pick up on dishware brands. Some customers are vintage plate hounds."
"Too bad it's busted. What a shame."
As we cleared the shards, Nancy patted my back sympathetically.
"Aw, too bad, Jake. Chin up."
Then she scampered off to Dorothy, who was opening another box.
She was always bursting with energy.
"Books!"
The next box seemed full of them.
But Nancy, who'd grabbed one, started backing away slowly.
"Eww, the books are soggy!"
They'd absorbed moisture from years in the storage unit.
"'Bestseller Romance Novels'... Haha, who stashes this stuff in storage?"
Sam laughed as he set the box aside.
We kept going, but it was trash after trash.
Broken electronics, shattered frames, torn posters... even pillow stuffing.
"Whoever owned this unit was a real packrat."
Sam sighed.
"Or had hoarding disorder."
Dorothy agreed.
Nancy piped up at that.
"Mom, what's hoarding?"
"It's when you can't throw stuff away and keep collecting more."
"Why? Does it hurt if you throw things out?"
"Who knows... Everyone's got their reasons. Memories, anxiety, whatever."
Nancy still looked puzzled.
Sam smiled gently at her and added,
"Life throws moments at everyone where letting go feels impossible, kiddo. Takes courage to toss things out."
"But I'm good at throwing stuff away..."
"Haha! Then our Nancy's super brave. What a champ."
"Heehee, yeah!"
We cracked open another box.
This one spilled out old photos.
"Oh, pictures."
Dorothy picked up a few.
"Family shots, looks like. They seem happy..."
One showed a young couple and kids smiling—a Christmas photo from the '80s.
"Dumping even these memories in storage."
"Life, huh..."
Sam muttered bitterly as he looked them over.
Nothing useful after that. Cheap pots, busted holiday decorations, worn-out curtains... Just more junk piling up.
"Jake, it's all trash, isn't it?"
Dorothy said worriedly.
"Maybe, but let's check everything. Almost done anyway."
I said that, but Bill's warning about avoiding trash units kept nagging at me.
Right then, Nancy spotted a box in the corner and called me over.
"Jake, Jake! Look at this—it's wrapped tight in tape. Super suspicious!"
She was right.
It was the one I'd eyed earlier.
Unlike the others, it was wrapped multiple times in brown tape, labeled 'FRAGILE.'
"This is it! This is why we bought the unit!"
"Really? How'd you know?"
Dorothy asked curiously.
"Just... a hunch. Stood out from the rest of the junk."
I carefully peeled off the tape.
It took a while—it was wrapped like Fort Knox.
"What's inside?"
Dorothy and Sam crowded closer.
Nancy murmured with wide-eyed anticipation.
"...Hope it's treasure."
Finally, the box opened.
Inside were several old cookie tins. Blue round ones labeled 'Butter Cookies' and 'Danish Cookies.'
"Cookies?"
Nancy asked hopefully.
Dorothy patted her head with a laugh.
"Nancy, you can't eat 30-year-old cookies."
I picked up the first tin. It was light.
Empty inside.
"Aww..."
Everyone deflated.
Sam shook his head.
"Trash after all, huh."
Second tin—also light. Also empty.
"Jake, let's call it. We'll score something good next time."
Dorothy said consolingly.
But I shook my head. That weird feeling from spotting the box lingered.
"Nah, one more."
Then I grabbed the third tin.
The weight felt different—hefty.
Shaking it produced a jingle.
"Something's in here!"
I popped it open.
Jingle—
"Huh?"
The tin was packed with old coins.
"Whoa, coins!"
Nancy cheered.
"What, just coins?"
Dorothy sounded disappointed.
I grabbed one and held it to the light.
'1943 - Walking Liberty Half Dollar'
This wasn't just any coin.
It was silver!
"Oh damn, it's silver!"
Sam yelled when he saw it in my hand.
"What's silver mean?"
Nancy asked.
"Old U.S. coins made of real silver."
"Real silver? Jackpot!"
I rushed to open the fourth tin.
More silver coins.
"Here too!"
Dorothy shouted excitedly.
The fifth and sixth tins were full too.
"Let's count 'em all!"
We dumped them on a tarp and started sorting.
Way more than expected.
"Big ones here, medium there, smalls over here."
"Got it! I'll help!"
Nancy dove in eagerly.
"Okay, Half Dollars here, Quarters here, Dimes there."
Sam got specific.
Dorothy eyed a 50-cent piece called the Walking Liberty.
"These are pretty. Lady walking."
"Lady Liberty striding. Minted from 1916 to 1947."
Sam explained.
"How do you know all this, Sam?"
"Army buddy was a coin nut. Always digging through change for silver."
We kept counting.
"Half Dollars: 40... 41... 42..."
"Quarters: 20... 21... 22!"
"Dimes are the most! 35... 36..."
An hour later, exact tally:
Walking Liberty Half Dollar - 45
Mercury Dime - 38
Standing Liberty Quarter - 22
Morgan Dollar - 12
Peace Dollar - 8
Total: 125 silver coins.
"Jake, did we find treasure?"
Nancy asked.
I checked prices on my phone.
"Silver's $25 an ounce... Half Dollar around $12 each, Morgan Dollar $20..."
Sam punched numbers.
"Rough math: over $1,500 easy!"
"$1,500!"
Cheers all around.
Nancy started dancing.
"Whoa, $1 turned into $1,500! We're rich!"
We checked the rest—nothing else worthwhile. Pure trash.
"Still, silver coins make it a win."
Dorothy consoled.
"Yeah. Worth the trash-hauling grind."
The next dawn, I hauled the junk to the dump.
Disposal fee $150, gas $40.
Total cost: $190.
'Net profit around $1,300.'
Not bad.
Plenty for a day's work.
Stopped by Bill's shop to show off the silver.
"Whoa, nice haul! Where'd you score these?"
"Storage auction. Bought a trash unit for $1."
"$1? You're kidding."
I explained; he laughed.
"One of a kind, alright. Turning trash into treasure."
"Where should I sell 'em?"
"Know a coin collector. With premiums, $1,700 at least."
"For real?"
"Yeah. These Morgans are minty—$300 just for them."
Sold for $1,750 in the end.
$1 investment, $190 costs, one day's labor.
Net: $1,560.
'Keep stacking wins like this...'
I thought on the drive home.
That house with the pool wasn't so far-fetched anymore.
Fortune was smiling, step by steady step.
That evening, we threw a little yard party.
For the family who'd helped out.
"To the miracle of $1!"
Sam raised his beer.
"Cheers!"
"Jake, let's hunt treasure together next time too!"
Nancy beamed.
"Yeah, together."
Dorothy said softly.
"Jake."
"Yeah?"
"About those dreams we talked about. I don't think I shared mine."
"True. But I think I know."
Dorothy smiled faintly.
No words needed—our eyes turned to Nancy.
Our ever-bright, sweet little princess.
"I want our little one to grow up the happiest in the world."
Dorothy fell quiet.
But then she looked at me warmly.
"And for our whole family to live happy and healthy. Me, Sam, our Nancy... and you, Jake."
I smiled back.
"Dorothy, we'll make that dream real."
"Think it's possible?"
"Of course. Trust me. I dig silver out of trash heaps."
"...Yeah, you do."
I gazed at the night sky.
Stars twinkling as always.
'$600K... Someday, for sure.'
That night, I dreamed of living in a big Austin house.
Nancy splashing in the pool, Dorothy laughing, Sam relaxing.
A dream, but one day reality.
One step at a time, slow but sure.