Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Family (1)
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On the way back to Austin.
The truck's cargo hold was loaded with items I'd picked up at the Phoenix yard sale.
Maynard Dixon's painting, the Navajo bracelet, the Japanese tool box, and the Leica camera...
Every time I touched them, the memories from the past I'd seen still lingered vividly before my eyes.
'Was my judgment really right?'
Judging an item's value based on mere fleeting visions felt like reckless gambling.
But I'd already spent $105, and regretting it now wouldn't change anything.
The next morning,
I headed to Old Texas Antiques with excitement bubbling inside me.
Ding-a-ling-
As I opened the door, the familiar chime rang out along with the scent of aged wood hitting my nose.
Bill was at the counter repairing an old clock, and across from him, a white-haired elderly gentleman was examining something.
"Jake! Back again."
Bill greeted me warmly.
"What'd you bring this time?"
"Found a few promising pieces in Phoenix yesterday."
I started pulling items out of my bag one by one.
The moment I took out the painting last, the white-haired gentleman nearby showed interest.
"Excuse me, that painting..."
He approached.
He was the picture of a professor in a tweed jacket and tie.
"Robert Harrison. I teach art history at UT Austin."
I nodded and greeted him back, and Bill chimed in.
"Professor Harrison's a regular here. You're in luck, Jake. An art expert showed up right on time."
Professor Harrison pulled out a magnifying glass and began inspecting the painting.
"Oh... intriguing. M. Dixon... Looks like a Maynard Dixon."
He examined the back of the canvas closely.
"Frederick & Nelson canvas from the 1930s. A brand California painters favored back then."
Next, he checked the surface.
"Look at the brushwork. That's Dixon's signature 'broken color' technique. Definitely authentic."
"...How much is it worth?"
At my eager question, the professor's face fell a bit.
"Hmm... Shame, but this is a sketch. Small 8x10 inches, quick brushstrokes like a field study. Dixon did hundreds of these."
"So..."
"Auction value around $1,500 to $2,000... A major work might fetch over $100,000, but for a sketch like this, that's the top end."
Bill picked up the painting for a look and spoke up.
"Jake, if you want, I'll buy it cash right now. $1,000?"
"$1,000?"
"Factor in auction fees, shipping, waiting time—it's not a bad deal."
"Don't be stingy. Make it $1,200?"
Bill shook his head.
"I'm not a charity. No margin in it! $1,100, best I can do."
"Haha, alright. Sold for $1,100."
Bill fetched cash from the safe.
Once Professor Harrison left, Bill checked the next items.
"Leica camera, huh?"
Bill turned the camera over in his hands.
"Leica IIIc... Early 1940s model. Serial number... 525398. Pre-war production."
He tested the shutter and peered through the viewfinder.
"Works perfectly. In my 40 years dealing with vintage cameras, this is a solid piece."
"Film's in there too."
"Hmm, too old to develop easily. Could try a specialist... Might reveal some historical shots."
Bill tapped his calculator.
"I'll take the camera for $400."
"$500. You said it's in great shape."
"Jake, collector's item. Niche market. $450."
"...Fine. But I'll keep the film."
"If you want. Need it developed, say the word—I'll hook you up with a pro."
Next was the turquoise bracelet.
Bill weighed it and inspected.
"Navajo style. Turquoise looks real... But this one's iffy."
"Iffy how?"
"Post-1960s tourist junk. Old Pawn era authentic? Thousands. This? Maybe $50."
Finally, the Japanese tool box.
"This... Well, old for sure, maybe historical value, but monetarily? Worthless. Hard to sell."
Bill summed up.
"Want intros to Indian crafts or Japanese-American history experts? But fees and travel—cost more than it's worth."
I nodded.
"I'll keep it. Not about the money anyway."
"Smart call. Total: painting $1,100, camera $450. $1,550."
$1,550 profit on a $105 investment.
No rent worries for months—satisfying, but a lesson too.
'Seeing the past doesn't mean it's valuable. Need real expertise.'
Heading home, thoughts swirled.
If I kept hunting antiques like this, I really needed to study up.
A few days later, while driving, Sam called.
"Jake, good news."
His voice brimmed with cheer.
"Knee surgery turned out great. Doc says recovery's ahead of schedule."
"Really? Thank goodness! No more pain?"
"Barely any. Can climb stairs now? No cane needed."
I was genuinely thrilled.
How much I'd worried over Sam's knee.
"Wow, amazing! You can start exercising again."
"Planning to ease into it. Doc recommends swimming—thinking YMCA."
"Great idea. Want me to tag along?"
"Haha, nah. I can manage. Come home when you can. Got a visitor."
"Visitor? Who?"
The sudden guest caught me off guard.
Who'd visit our family?
"Dorothy. Says she came back from LA last year."
"...Dorothy?"
I racked my brain.
Dorothy. Sam's niece, my cousin. Last seen nine years ago...
"Yeah, you'll be shocked."
Arriving at Sam's trailer, a child's voice rang from the porch.
"Uncle Jake!"
I opened the door, and a girl about six years old ran up.
Brown curly hair, big eyes—adorable, but a total stranger.
"Uh... hi?"
Behind her, a blonde young woman stood.
"Long time no see, Jake."
It was Dorothy. But so different from before.
Not the confident nineteen-year-old who'd left for LA nine years back.
Still pretty, but fatigue lined her eyes, shoulders slumped.
"...Dorothy? Wow, it's been forever."
We hugged awkwardly.
"Who's this?"
"Nancy. My daughter."
"...Daughter?"
She'd gone to LA alone.
No boyfriend mentioned, no news since.
"Hi, I'm Nancy! Mom says you're a truck driver!"
The girl greeted brightly.
"Hey, Nancy. Nice to meet you."
"Uncle Jake, is your truck really big?"
"Yeah, huge."
Sam came out from the kitchen.
"Sit down, let's talk. Dorothy brought casserole she made for you."
Casserole was meat, veggies, and sauce baked in a pot.
Like a simple gratin, easy home cooking.
We sat, and Sam brought out the dish.
Rich mushroom soup aroma, golden chicken and broccoli.
Cheesy savoriness made my mouth water.
"Looks delicious."
"It's nothing. Made too much, so I brought it."
Dorothy served while speaking.
My finger brushed the casserole dish's edge.
That instant—
*
Dorothy prepared ingredients in the small kitchen.
She trimmed the chicken carefully, washed the broccoli clean.
"Gotta make Uncle's favorite... Jake might come too, so plenty. Haven't seen him in nine years..."
Her face was tired, but she cooked with care.
"What'll Jake think... Failed single mom, probably judge me..."
Worried expression as she pulled the casserole from the oven.
"No, Jake was kind as a kid... Sigh..."
*
Back to reality.
Dorothy had risen early, poured her heart into this for us.
Recalling her hidden worries and fears, I smiled wide on purpose.
"Dorothy, this is amazing. Your cooking's improved."
"...Really? Glad. Learned bits in LA to get by."
"So, how was LA?"
Her face darkened at the question.
"Hell. Hundred auditions for one extra role—no lines. Pretty girls everywhere, all chasing the same dream."
"Rough."
"Waitressed, auditioned, occasional party serving gigs... Met a guy. Self-proclaimed producer, promised stardom. Obvious, right."
Dorothy gave a wry smile.
"Naive me believed him... Vanished when I said I was pregnant."
"That bastard..."
"My fault. Fell for it like an idiot. No regrets, though. Got Nancy."
Her gaze on Nancy warmed tenderly.
"Mom, am I a burden?"
Nancy asked worriedly.
"No, sweetie. You're Mom's gift. Most precious in the world."
"...I love you too, Mom!"
The mother-daughter bond was heartwarming.
"Where you living now?"
"Thirty minutes drive. Maple Trailer Park."
"Trailer park?"
"Yeah. Cheapest rent. $400 a month. Pathetic, huh?"
Dorothy laughed self-deprecatingly.
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"Still in this trailer park myself."
"You too? Heard trucking pays well."
"Nah, scraping by. Aunt's hospital debt, truck repairs piling up..."
"...Neither of us got rich."
We shared wry smiles.
"Diner waitress now. Covers rent, but tight."
"I get it. Same here."
Mid-meal, the Navajo bracelet in my bag came to mind.
Bill called it tourist trash, but I'd seen it handcrafted.
No big value, sure, but handmade with effort.
"Nancy."
"Yes, Jake?"
"Got a gift for you."
I handed over the velvet box.
"Wow! For me?"
Nancy opened it excitedly.
The silver turquoise bracelet sparkled.