Chapter 13

At Aunt Joan’s suggestion, I spent Thursday morning doing practice driver license tests. The DMV used computers to randomize 25 of a possible 200 questions. Missing 3 or more would fail me. The website I was using gave me access to all 200 questions, along with the correct answers, after I answered.

My first run through was good, 178 out of 200. It took some time to review the reasons for my wrong answers, but in a few I had simply misread the question, not visualizing it in my mind. Another was that in this State, school zones are 10 mph, my last state, where I learned to drive with my learners permit, it was 15.

Once I scored a perfect 200, I stopped. I would be taking the real test on Monday, and I figured I’d come back and try again on Sunday, to make sure I retained it.

I was confident I could drive, like most 15 year olds, so the driving portion of the test didn’t bother me. I did however spend time watching the practical test tutorial videos that showed what I could be expected to perform, and what the most common mistakes were.

I took particular note of the center turning lane, not a road feature that was common in my old town. It was a lane between two sets of double yellow lines that let vehicles from either direction use it to get out of traffic when turning left, and waiting for oncoming traffic to clear. It could also be used to turn onto, when turning left onto a road, as a place to wait for traffic going in the direction you wish to travel to open up, allowing you to safely merge, and make a left turn across multiple lanes of heavy traffic when only one direction was clear at a time. I’d have to see if this town had one, and give it a try, it seemed easy enough.

Lunch was the last Trader Joe’s Pad Thai from the freezer. It was good, but thinking of soon having the Orb, I did a quick search on Instagram for Pad Thai and fell down the rabbit hole for an hour, or two.

By the time I came back up, I realized the time, and hurriedly showered and dressed. I was ready just before pick up time, and even remembered to grab the plastic baggie with the 5 coins. The 2 Escudos kind.

I locked the front door behind me, after telling Alexa goodbye so she would monitor the house for intruders or problems. I hopped into Aunt Joan’s red Miata, and she drove us across town to the prison.

It was actually about thirty minutes to get there, as it was located several miles from anything else. She spotted Dad’s truck parked in the outer unsecured parking lot, and parked next to it. A few minutes later he came out smiling, and with a wave we got out.

After climbing into the truck, with Aunt Joan in the front passenger seat, as promised, Dad headed to Summerville. From the prison it was about 40 minutes to the lawyers office. Dad always said, “on time is late, there’s no such thing as too early.”

Thanks to good defensive driving, we arrived 15 minutes early. At the small but well appointed office a guy greeted us, he was probably in his early 20’s. He verified who we were, took our consultation fee, and drink order, then ushered us into a conference room.

After we sat, he returned with the drinks we had requested, Aunt Joan thanked Mike, then he stepped out thru the room’s secondary door.

A thin but not frail older woman entered. Her long hair, up in a bun, was streaked with silver. She was wearing white pearls, a nice skirt and suit jacket, with everything she was wearing screaming professional, classy, and old money.

“Good day gentleman,” she greeted us, “Nice to see you again Joan.”

“Michaela, you are looking well,” Aunt Joan responded.

“So what can the Pence law office do for you today?”

“I’m the new owner of the Peterson house, I won the county auction in December of last year. We’ve discovered something of interest at the property, and need to know its legal provenance.”

“I thought that house might be the issue. Hiram Peterson and I were long acquaintances. If you’ve discovered mineral deposits, then I’m afraid the State owns those.”

“Not mineral rights,” Dad stated, “Sam, would you show her?”

I pulled the baggie from a pocket with the 5 gold coins. “I found these in a secret compartment in the house,” I told her.

“Ah, the pirate booty,” she said.

“You are aware of it?” Dad asked.

“Rumors only from Marshall. He was considerably younger than Hiram, and known for being jealous of his older brother. He once claimed to have discovered his brother had returned from Princeton with a pirate’s horde.”

“So who does it belong to?” I asked.

“I’ll have to do some research, but I’m fairly certain the county sales contract includes all contents of the property. A crew would have gone thru to remove any valuable items, and family heirlooms such as pictures prior to the sale, and stored them. They’ll be required to hold onto such property for 10 years.

“What happens then?” Aunt Joan asked.

“It will likely go to auction if valuable, or to the local historical society if not. The auction will pay for 10 years of storage, and the historical society will trash anything they don’t want.”

“And the coins I found?” I asked.

“If you don’t advertise them, they are yours to do as you please. If you announce the discovery, I would recommend you place them all in secure storage until either 10 years, or a Judge’s order grants ownership.