Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Flea Market (1)
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The $1,750 I'd gotten from selling the silver coins was safely tucked away in my bank account.
It wasn't a bad haul for rummaging through a mountain of trash in a warehouse I'd snagged for just a dollar.
But compared to my profits up to now, it felt a little lacking all the same.
'Warehouse auctions aren't something I can just dive into headfirst on my own.'
"Finally."
This was the moment when the connections I'd built by clearing out those junker units started paying off.
Marcus personally recommending units meant there were some real gems in the mix.
There was still plenty of time before the auction.
So I decided to tackle something I'd been putting off: some serious studying.
Finding those silver coins in the last warehouse had been pure luck.
The tape-sealed box just looked suspicious—no real evidence or certainty behind it.
What if it had been full of worthless cookies instead?
I'd have wasted four hours of labor and disposal fees for nothing.
'I can't rely on luck every time. I need to develop a proper eye for this.'
To make the most of my ability, I had to handle the items myself.
But I couldn't touch and read the history of every single thing in sight.
I needed at least some basic discernment to pick out the promising stuff first.
For that, I signed up for the three online courses Bill had recommended.
'Antique Coin Identification'
'Vintage Furniture Appraisal'
'American Collectibles 101'
They cost $450 in total. That was 25% of my latest earnings gone, but I didn't hesitate. This wasn't spending—it was investing. Even a little knowledge would mean bigger scores next time. I fired up my laptop and started the first lesson. [Hello. I'm David Johnson, an antiques appraiser with 30 years of experience.] On screen, a white-haired old gentleman in white gloves held up an old silver coin. It sparkled in the light. [Today, we'll learn how to authenticate 19th-century American silver coins. First up: weight. A genuine Morgan Dollar weighs exactly 26.73 grams. Any difference, even 0.1 grams, is a red flag.] I thought back to when I'd actually found those silver coins. If I'd watched this beforehand, it would've been a huge help back then. Not bad at all, I muttered to myself, pulling out a notepad to jot things down. 'Morgan Dollar - 26.73g, Walking Liberty Half Dollar – 12.5g...' Silver coin weighing methods, mint mark checks, era-specific traits, spotting fakes... I scribbled down and memorized everything that seemed useful. Honestly, I was studying harder than I ever did for high school exams. Of course—this wasn't about a test score; it was about cash. [Take a look at this 1921 Morgan Dollar's eagle feathers. Genuine ones have exactly eight. Seven or nine means fake.] 'Eight eagle feathers, huh...' Details that fine? The antiques world was deeper and trickier than I'd imagined. Two hours flew by. The first course ended with a quiz. 'Too easy. Do I have a knack for this?' I got 6 out of 10 right. Damn. Still not good enough. 'Gotta rewatch.' I reached for the rewind button when a voice called from outside the window.
"Jake!"
It was Nancy.
"I'm bored!"
A glance at the clock: 2 p.m. Saturday—Dorothy was out on a double shift, and Sam was at the hospital for his regular checkup. 'Studying can wait.' I closed the laptop and headed outside. Nancy was sitting on the steps of our trailer, clutching her "Mr. Hop" bunny doll. One ear half torn off, clumsily sewn back by Dorothy. Some stuffing poked out, but Nancy cradled it like the most precious thing in the world.
"What do you wanna do, little princess?"
"Hmm..."
She scrunched up her little face in deep thought. A wrinkle formed on her tiny forehead.
"I wanna go to the playground... but it's too cold outside."
It sure was. Early September, but already chilly. Unseasonably cold for Texas. 55°F—about 13°C.
"How about we check out the flea market instead?"
I'd noticed Nancy's jacket from last time barely reached her wrists anymore. She'd shot up, and the clothes had shrunk on her.
"Flea market? What's there?"
"All kinds of fun stuff. Toys, clothes, yummy snacks!"
Nancy's eyes lit up.
"Whoa, really? Let's go! But..."
"But?"
"Does it cost a lot? Mom said... we're kinda short on money lately."
I ruffled her hair casually, acting like it was no big deal. A six-year-old already worrying about family finances. She should be running around carefree.
"It's fine. Flea markets are cheap. Don't worry."
"Really?"
"Really. And today's on me."
"...Thanks, Jake. You're the best."
Her innocent praise made me blush instead. I dashed over to Dorothy's trailer for the spare key. Emergency backup—for when Nancy was home alone.
"Nancy, c'mere. Gotta put on shoes and your jacket."
"Okay!"
I bundled her into a little pink hoodie jacket. Hand-me-down, but the sleeves rode up three inches past her wrists. Totally outgrown. Won't last the winter.' It hit me again how tight things were for Dorothy. Raising a fast-growing kid on diner waitress wages wasn't easy.
"All set?"
"Yup! Let's go!"
The Southside Flea Market south of Austin ran every Saturday from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.
I took Highway 290 for a 30-minute drive.
Nancy peered out the window, counting passing cars.
"Twenty-five red ones, seventeen blue ones..."
"Wow, that's a lot. Good job counting."
"Yup! Mom says to count stuff in the car so I don't get bored."
"Smart mom, huh?"
"Yeah. My mom's the smartest."
Proud as punch.
We pulled into the flea market lot, and Nancy cheered the second the car stopped.
"Whoa! So many people!"
She wasn't wrong.
The lot was packed, hundreds milling between booths.
Lots of families out for the weekend.
"Stay close—hold my hand tight. Can't have you getting lost in this crowd."
"Okay!"
Her little hand gripped mine firmly.
Inside, smells assaulted us: popcorn, hot dogs, barbecue... Mouthwatering.
First booth: vintage clothes.
"Welcome!"
A plump Hispanic lady in her fifties beamed and waved, colorful scarf draped around her neck.
"Looking for girls' winter clothes?"
"Yeah, size 6."
"Perfect! Fresh batch just in. This way."
The table overflowed with kids' stuff: jackets, sweaters, pants, dresses. Most in great shape, clean as could be.
Nancy pointed to a blue down jacket.
"Jake, look! So pretty!"
It was. Bright sky blue with a white-fur hood. Zipper solid, no stains.
"C'mere, try it on."
I helped her out of the old one and into the new.
Perfect fit. Size spot-on, color matched her skin tone beautifully.
Her brown hair popped against the blue hood.
"Wanna see the mirror?"
"Yes!"
The lady handed over a small hand mirror.
Nancy spun around, grinning ear to ear.
"Jake, do I look like a princess?"
"Haha, totally. Like a Frozen princess."
"...Like Elsa?"
"Exactly like her."
Thrilled by the praise, Nancy beamed and started waving her arms, singing.
"Let it go~ Let it go~"
Adorable—passersby smiled as they glanced over.
"How much for this?"
The lady checked the tag.
"Fifteen bucks. Real North Face originally. Retails at 120, but it's barely worn—owner said just once."
"Looks great. We'll take it."
"Thank you! Your daughter's adorable. You're blessed."
"Oh, she's not my daughter..."
"Jake's my uncle! The best uncle in the world!"
Nancy declared proudly, squeezing my hand.
The lady chuckled warmly.
"An uncle, huh? What a great one. Hard to find uncles who dote on nieces like that these days."
"Thanks."
I'd planned on just the jacket, but other items caught my eye.
Sweaters? Long-sleeve tees too, probably.
"Mind if I look at more?"
"Of course! Take your time."
I picked two sweaters: a red Christmas one and a gray knit.
Plus three long-sleeve tees for layering: pink, purple, yellow.
"How much for all this?"
She tapped her calculator.
"Jacket fifteen, sweaters eight each, tees four each... Forty-seven total. Hit fifty, and I'll knock off ten percent. Socks or hat to round it out?"
"Socks, then."
"Great choice!"
I grabbed three pairs of thick winter socks.
"Fifty even, so forty-five."
"Thanks."
I handed over a fifty. She gave five back with a wink.
"Wear 'em pretty, princess!"
"Heehee, thank you!"
Nancy beamed, clutching the shopping bag.
New, this stuff would've run over $300. Flea market magic—for $45.
"Whoa... Jake, Jake! Look over there!"
Nancy pointed to a toy booth.
Her eyes sparkled as she dragged me over.
The table was piled with toys: dolls, cars, blocks, board games...
What caught her eye: a Lego set.
"It's a princess castle! Disney Princess!"
Lego Disney Princess Castle set.
Box corner slightly dented, but unopened, plastic wrap intact.
"Hi. How much for this?"
The white grandpa running the booth, maybe seventies, replied.
"Twenty dollars. My granddaughter got it for her birthday, but she already had one. Never played with it, so out it goes."
Retail: $59.99. Third of the price.
With Nancy clinging to my hand, eyes shining—no way I wasn't buying.
"I'll take it."
"Thanks, young man."
He bagged the Lego.
"Have fun with it, missy."
"Yay, thank you!"
Nancy hugged the box like the world's greatest treasure.
"...Jake, is it really okay to take all this?"