Chapter 19

The news stunned me. That type of financial stability had always been way beyond my grasp. Now that it was a fact, I wasn't sure what to do about it. Mr. Bell could see me rolling that over in my head and suggested something.

"You don't need to hurry into anything, Brian. This episode is going to slow you down a whole lot. Things will have to change because of your surgery, at least for the next six month, or so. If you don't mind a little fatherly advice, think about this; Let Colleen and I get you and Beth set up with a David Lerner, US Bond fund. Lerner manages the US bonding system and charges no loads, no fees and no commissions. Whatever your bonds earn is all yours.

"You can choose to limit Lerner to buy bonds that are AAA rated, one-hundred percent US Government guaranteed and many are paying nine percent now. That would translate into seventy-five thousand dollars a month, Triple Tax Free. No local, state, or federal taxes come out of your earnings.

"Later you can begin to strategize and build a comprehensive portfolio that broadens your financial base and gives you a chance at far greater earnings. It's a thought and it's what Colleen and I are doing with the legal fees we've earned from your settlement." Turning to Beth Ann he said, "This has to be coming at you so fast and this way you are not under the gun to make quick decisions you might regret, later."

Beth Ann looked at me for my opinion and I said, "One of the last things I remember before my trip in a helicopter was my mother telling you that her daddy taught her to take good advice from smart people. Can you and Colleen help us set that up?"

That is exactly what happened. Within two weeks, while I was still mostly an invalid, a man from Lerner in New York City came to Mr. Bell's office to present a complete portfolio of triple tax free, bonds that would run from between five and thirty years, all with a flat rate of return. There was no risk, unless the federal government closed up and no taxes.

Other than being bald, a condition I abhorred, my daily life was very limited and only to those things I was allowed to do and felt capable of doing. There weren't too many of them. The weakness that lingered after brain surgery hammered me. I could not believe how exhausting climbing the stairs to the bedroom had become. The thought of riding a bicycle, or jogging made me physically ill.

My appetite was completely absent and food had no taste to tempt me. The pain at the surgical site started to abate after the first week but my head was very touchy and there were a series of never ending headaches to go with it. Other than to rest, recuperate and think I was useless. Beth Ann tried to cheer me up and succeeded fairly often but there was an ever present sadness I couldn't shake. It got worse every time I looked in the mirror and saw my bald head.

Colleen and Mr. Bell prepared the contracts and handled the money transfers and helped us along with Beth Ann's boss, Grayson Foster, to set up our bank accounts, since they would receive over seventy-five thousand dollars a month. The FDIC limited account insurance to the first one-hundred thousand dollars per account, so we needed to prepare for the excess earnings immediately.

Mr. Bell and Mr. Foster put together a short and long-term plan to protect our funds and populate our personal accounts to make sure we always had plenty of money for our needs.

With a personal fortune of just over ten million dollars, it was time for Beth Ann and me to build a life. She resigned from the bank and I let Hank and JoAnn know that the brain surgery precluded me from returning to work at the marina any time soon, if ever. It was no big, deal; we each had only worked one day when I had the aneurism. I was going to be taking things very easy for several months to let the surgery heal completely and avoid any complications.

The doctors agreed that I made a remarkable recovery but couldn't guarantee it wouldn't happen again. The consensus of opinion was that they had fixed everything that showed up on the tests. Beyond what they could see, there were no guarantees and I knew I would spend the rest of this life living with that knowledge.

Shortly after getting the money sorted out I made an appointment to have lunch once more with Mr. Bell. We went back to Mama's but this time I was paying. Mr. Bell picked me up in his Suburban which surprised me since he had made almost three million dollars from his part of our settlement. When I asked he said, "I like my big boat and it never occurred to me to get rid of it."

When our lunch was on the table and Martha finished fussing over Mr. Bell I said, "Mr. Bell I want to retain you to help me get tested so I graduate without attending high school."

As I hoped, he did not laugh, sputter, or make fun of my request. One thing about Mr. Bell was that he took everything seriously. I let him think. Eventually he was ready to dive in. "Brian. I am your attorney. As such I automatically want whatever is best for you. If you are sincere about wanting to graduate from high school without ever going to high school, I need to know what is involved and what the statutes are that might complicate getting it done.

"First: Why do you wish to skip high school?

"Second: What plan do you have that represents a replacement for the four years of your adolescence that would normally be taken up going to high school?

"Third: Are you ready for the kinds of questions that will be asked and the ways in which your life will change?" He sat back and gave me time to sort out my answers but I needed none.

"Mr. Bell, the doctor who saved me when the truck hit us told my mother that when they did the brain scans they noticed my brain activity was extremely high for any person, much less a teenager entering puberty. He warned my mother that public schools label students whose brains operate at a higher speed as ADHD and try to medicate them to make sure they don't inconvenience the faculty. I don't want to waste four years being treated like an inconvenience, while I could be getting on with my life.

"I died on the table in the ER the day the truck hit us. I nearly died again at your house ten days later. Twice in less than two weeks is too close for comfort and I realize that I may not live long enough to grow up, much less grow old. An aneurism could be a ticking bomb. It could re-occur anytime. The next time it happens what if there isn't a Dr. Temple and you around to help me?

"I can live with the possibility that this could happen again but I would like a chance to live – at least some - before it happens. Spending four years in high school cuts down my chances no matter how you look at it. You made this possible by making the deal with the Hillman Company and freeing me from having to focus on getting a good job, someday.