The Quarter

The doorbell rang just as the Lions ran in another score against Frank’s Packers. He grumbled as he pushed himself off his recliner, “I was done watching this shit anyway.”

He opened the door, and a flurry of snowflakes whirled inside. An arm wrapped around his neck, and Marie squealed “Happy Thanksgiving Grandpa”. She bounced past him into the dining room with a bundle of flowers in one hand and a store-bought three-layered chocolate cake in the other.

“Sorry I couldn’t bake a cake this year! They don’t have ovens in the dorms, and I didn’t have time to stop by Mom’s.”

“Aw hell, I don’t care. I’m glad you made safe it in this weather.”

She slid the plastic container across the dusty mahogany table, bare except for the centerpiece vase with long dead flowers and an empty Budweiser can that hadn’t moved in weeks.

“Are these the same flowers I brought last year?”

“I liked ‘em so much I decided to keep ‘em.”

Marie’s laugh was high-pitched and quick, cut short as she covered her mouth to prevent the oncoming snort. She grabbed the vase, sweeping dead flower remnants from the table back in with the stems they used to call home. Frank watched, one corner of his lip curling up at the sight of Marie keeping her Grandma’s tradition alive. Jill never let the white lilies in her dining room vase die; as soon as they started to show signs of dying, she’d replace them. Marie kept up with the tradition every Thanksgiving when she came over – even after all these years.

“The turkey’s almost done if you’re ready to eat - unless you want to warm up before we sit down.”

“Don’t be silly! I woke up ready to eat your turkey! Let me run out and grab the potatoes and green beans from the car.”

By the time he returned to the dining room, holding his signature golden-brown turkey that was far too large for the two of them, Marie had already thrown away the crushed can of Bud, wiped the table down, and added the lilies to the vase. The sides she brought were laid out with the ones he prepared.

Her back was turned to Frank as he set the bird down, but the strong garlic and rosemary aroma quickly gave him away.

“Oh my God, that smells even better than last year!”

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“You’re right, Grandpa.” She turned with a sly grin. “I wouldn’t, if…”

He turned back to the kitchen, shaking his head. “Not this shit again.”

“I’m just saying… a nice lady could keep the flowers fresh year-round. You’re not too old to get back out- ”

Frank shouted from the kitchen, “I told you, I ain’t interested, won’t never be interested neither. Now drop it.” Silence filled the house; the subject was dropped.

Both Frank and Marie approached meals the same: eat first, talk later. There would be time to chat during dessert, when full bellies prevented the voracious eating that defined dinnertime. Frank finished first, pushing back from the table to pat his bulging flannel-covered belly.

“I’m stuffed, but I have room for a slice of cake. Want one?”

“Yes please.”

Frank returned with two large slices of cake, an annual tradition that began the first year after Jill’s death. Marie wanted chocolate cake instead of pie; her parents told her she could have blueberry pie or nothing. Frank sternly reminded them whose house they were in then told Marie she could have chocolate cake for Thanksgiving from then on. And she’d returned ever since – even after her parents began hosting the family dinner at their house.

“There’s no way I’m going to finish all that!”

“You say that every year.”

He waited until she’d finished her last bite of mashed potatoes before he pushed the side of his fork through the thinnest part of the chocolate wedge. He’d just lifted his fork when Marie asked, “how’d the game go?”

Frank grimaced. “Damnit, can’t even wait until I’ve had one bite?”

She smiled. “I was listening on the way over. We really do suck this year.”

Frank shoved the bite in his mouth. “Well, I bet that boyfriend of yours is happy. Still can’t believe you chose a damn Lions fan.”

“Oh, James? I thought I told you, we broke up back in March. Said he found someone else.”

“You’re better off anyway. As pretty and smart as you are, you shouldn’t be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“How was I supposed to know he’d run off with someone else? I don’t have a crystal ball now, do I?”

“I could tell that boy was a loser last year. You don’t need no damn crystal ball.”

Marie raised her eyebrows, grinning. “Oh? What gave it away, oh wise oracle?”

“When you talked about how he refused to go with you to the Renaissance Fair. The way you talked about him, he seemed proud to be a drunken idiot too. He just wasn’t right for you.”

“Oh Grandpa, things are so much different than when you were dating back in the 1800s. For one, they don’t make guys like you anymore. The way you talk about Grandma, how you two were, it sounds like a fairytale much more than reality – at least with how guys are these days.”

“That’s a bunch of horse crap.”

“I’m serious. They don’t make guys like they did back then. I can’t expect some perfect guy to just show up.”

“You just ain’t looking hard enough.”

Things were quiet as both worked on bites of their slices of cake. Marie spoke up first, the playfulness gone from her voice. “It’s not that I’m not looking hard, Grandpa. It’s just… I’m not the kind of girl that guys want to stick things out with. Everything is great at first, but once they learn that I’m really just a big nerd at heart, they lose interest. I can’t afford to be as picky as you’re suggesting; if I broke up with every guy who wasn’t perfect for me, I’d be single the rest of my life.”

Frank didn’t respond, at least not right away. He pushed the last bite of his cake into his mouth and set his fork down. He chewed for a moment in silence while Marie watched for a response. After he swallowed and washed it down with a swig of Budweiser, he pushed himself off his chair.

“Come on, I wanna show you something.”

“O-OK?”

Marie set her fork down and followed him to the garage door. He turned the worn brass knob and pushed, dust filling the hallway from the cluttered garage that was long ago converted to a storage room. She stood in the doorframe, watching as he shuffled and shimmied through boxes piled shoulder high. He reached a folding table in the back corner and picked up a small wooden box before calling to Marie.

“Come here, take a look at this.”

She walked down the steps onto the concrete and joined him by the table. He opened the box to reveal a single quarter. It appeared brand new despite the box having a healthy coating of dust.

“You see this?”

“Yes? It’s a quarter.”

“Really now? Just a quarter?”

Marie squinted, lowering her head to within inches of the box. “Yep, just a quarter Grandpa.”

“To you, this is just a quarter. To the neighbors, this would be just a quarter. To just about anyone, this is an ordinary quarter.”

“You say that like it’s not just a quarter.”

“I told you that you were a smart girl. You’re right, it’s not just any quarter; this one is worth quite a bit.”

“It doesn’t look all that valuable. Looks brand new.”

“Look closer. See the date?”

Marie lowered her head again, the thin slivers of light from the garage door windows providing just enough illumination. “1932?”

“Yep, 1932. This is a D-series minted quarter. In near perfect condition.”

“Honestly, I would’ve never thought anything of it. If I got this as change, I’d just throw it in my pocket.”

Frank put the quarter back in the box, shut it, and replaced it on the table. “That’s my point. Most people have no clue what this thing is worth. Maybe one or two percent of folks, at most, would know what they had in their hands if they were given this quarter.”

“Well…?”

“Well, what?”

“What’s it worth?”

“You got that fancy phone of yours, go on and look it up. 1932D Quarter.”

Marie took out her phone and, after a few taps on her screen, had the page up. Frank watched as her eyes darted back and forth across the screen before widening considerably.

“Thirteen thousand dollars?”

Frank chuckled. “Maybe… if this one was in worse condition. This one’s worth much more. It’s in perfect condition; your great-grandaddy got one when they first came out and put it away. It was passed to me, and I put it away too. I knew it was worth a bit, but to be sure, I had it checked out about five years ago. When he saw it, the appraiser about shit his pants.”

“Wow… what did he say it was worth?”

“Heh, he didn’t know, said he’d never seen one in such condition. He guessed about a hundred grand or so.”

Marie’s jaw dropped. She stood speechless while Frank let his point sink in.

“Now, why would I show you that quarter?”

“To show how much money you could have but don’t want for some reason?”

“I don’t need that money. And that’s not the point anyway. Remember what we was talking about at the table?”

“My crappy love life?”

“Well, we was talking about you. Your dumb boyfriends were just a background noise. You are this quarter, Marie.”

Marie chuckled. “Oh yeah, I’m worth a ton of money huh?”

“I’m serious. You’re like this quarter. You know how?”

Marie looked away for a moment, seemingly in thought. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. Are you trying to say I’m valuable to someone who recognizes it?”

“See? Smart girl. Yes, most everyone you meet – especially idiotic college fratboys – will have no idea what they’re looking at when they see you. They’ll think ‘oh, she’s just another college girl’, like you thought this was just another quarter. And to most people, that’s all you’d ever be – another girl. But there are a few out there who will see you and act like that appraiser did when he flipped his lid.”

Marie cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know about all that.”

“Listen to me, I’m being serious here. You shouldn’t settle for anything less than someone who understands how priceless you are. Those boys you mess around with are like all those people who would just toss that quarter on the table when they got home and emptied their pockets. They don’t care if they lose you – because to them they’re only losing a fraction of a dollar. But find the right person? They’ll hold on to you like the jewel you are, like that appraiser would’ve if I sold it to him that day. They wouldn’t be so careless about losing you neither.”

Marie’s cheeks were red enough to be seen even in the dimly lit garage. She tried to hide her smile - to no avail.

“Now, you keep asking me why I don’t go back out there, find a nice lady to spend my last years with. The thing is, I already my person, my jewel. I don’t need no one else. Plus, it’d be unfair as hell to whoever I met. She could never compare to your Grandma.

“So, do me a favor, will you? Don’t settle anymore.”

Frank paused then added, “And for the love of God, find a Packers fan next time.”