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Bob’s grown kids all looked at each other. The thought that their father would ever have the need to employ an attorney struck them as odd. The fact that he would employ one as obviously as high powered as Franklin Danbury Jr. seemed like a complete waste of resources.   “Just like the old guy to not have any money in the bank, but spend a fortune on an attorney,” the oldest son thought to himself. 

“Well, we appreciate the condolences, Mr. Danbury,” the oldest son said. “But we’ve pretty much got this about wrapped up.  The estate sale, such that it was, is finished. I’ve been to the bank and am working with them to clear out Dad’s account. We’ll be meeting with a real estate agent tomorrow to list the house. Well probably end up putting the old Imperial on Bring a Trailer to get rid of it. It probably has some value, as nice and as rare as it is.”

“I see.”  Danbury realized this conversation was probably going to be more difficult than he’d realized. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“No, of course not,” Bob’s daughter said.   “Can I get you an iced tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”  Danbury sat on the old couch and unbuttoned his jacket. 

“Have you practiced law here in Fort Stockton very long?”  The daughter seemed to be going out of her way to be polite. The two sons not as much. 

“The family goes back generations. I took the practice over from my father when he retired several years back. The firm’s relationship with your father began with your father and my father. But, here we are. Time stops for no man, as they say.”

“I suppose we could use your help to complete the sale of the house,” the oldest brother said. “Otherwise we’ve just about got it handled.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. I didn’t realize you would be attempting to settle the estate so quickly or I would have called you.”  Danbury was trying to keep an open mind and not rush to judgment regarding Bob’s kids. “I’m afraid there won’t be a sale as far as the house goes.”

The siblings all looked at each other. The irritation was palpable. 

“You’re going to need to explain yourself, Danbury. I don’t like the sound of where this might be going.”

Danbury shifted in his seat slightly. “I understand. Let me explain.”

The three heirs shifted to the edge of their seats and seemed to be preparing for a confrontation. 

“I’m not aware of why or why not your father didn’t share more details of his estate with you. But let me get you up to speed. Per his will, the home we’re sitting in here has been deeded to Lucinda.”

Visibly angry, the oldest son rose to his feet. “Who the hell is Lucinda, some girl he was banging we didn’t know about?”

“I can assure you that’s not the case. She owns The Grounds for Divorce, a favored local cafe here in Fort Stockton.  The place draws in an eclectic bunch of guys, mostly those who enjoy old cars, swapping stories, and Lucinda’s ‘hospitality’.  The relationship she shared with your father was purely platonic and professional. He enjoyed going in and having his morning coffee at her place. She was always kind. In fact she always asked him about the three of you. She knows quite a bit about all of you. What she doesn’t know, not yet anyway, is that your father left her this house. I felt it only appropriate to meet with the family before sharing those details directly with her.”

Two of Bob’s kids were livid, the third in shock. “How the hell could he leave the only thing he had that was worth anything to some woman who served him coffee?” The youngest was beside himself with the indignity of being cut out of what he figured must be a reasonable sum of money.  He figured the house was probably worth between $250 and $300 K.  His older brother and sister seemed to be in shock.  “Did he give that woman the damn Imperial, too?”

“No.  Of course not.”  Danbury was as cool as a cucumber.  He’d sat in on meetings a lot more controversial than this one.  “The Imperial was left to Delgado.”

“Delgado?  Who the hell is that?”  The youngest of the siblings still seemed to be the only one who could voice his thoughts.

“Well, Delgado is the cook at the Grounds for Divorce.  He is also in a relationship with Lucinda, but let’s not let that define either one of them, shall we?”

“And why would our father leave a classic car that was his pride and joy to a cook at some greasy spoon cafe?” the daughter asked.

“Your father said Delgado made the best Huevos Rancheros he’d ever eaten.”  It took all Danbury had to hide the smirk that he knew was probably creeping onto his face.

“You realize we’ll probably challenge both those decisions, don’t you?” the oldest brother said.

“And you’d be well within your rights, I assure you.”  Danbury took a sip of his tea and set the glass back down.  “But you’d lose.  And waste money. And it would be pointless in the end.  You see, all of your father’s decisions were made long ago and his estate planning was ironclad.  Let me explain some things about your father that he apparently never shared, or you never asked about. . . .”

Danbury sat back in his chair to get comfortable.  He took one more sip of tea and began.  He explained that when the wealthy man their father worked for in Dallas passed, their father had been treated well.  The estate, the property, the business, stocks, bonds, and all the assets were willed to the man’s heirs.  Everything except the auto collection that Bob had taken care of for decades.  The entire collection was given to Bob for his service over the years and his dedication to keeping them all running and in perfect working order.  “There were 47 cars in the collection and every one of them was passed on to your father,” Danbury explained.

“Those cars had to be worth a fortune!” Bob’s daughter said.

“Where are they now?” the oldest son asked.

“In collections all over the country.”  Danbury was glad he finally had the siblings’ attention.  “Your father knew he’d never be able to take care of a collection like that, and it was never his intention to attempt to.  He knew he’d been gifted the collection to find worthy new homes for all of them, in addition to being recognized for his work and service to the man who left them to him.  The only one he wanted to keep was the Imperial.  It was always his favorite.  And so he did.”

“Well then what happened to all the money he got for the cars?  It damn sure isn’t in Prairie View State Bank!” the oldest son said.

“No.  No it isn’t,” Danbury said.  “Your father never really trusted banks.”  Then he stood up.  “Help me with this, if you would please.”  And with that, he leaned over and picked up the corner of the old oriental rug in the middle of the room they were all seated in.

He pulled back the rug and underneath it was a trap door on the floor.  As Bob’s children helped pull the rug all the way back, Danbury opened the trap door and revealed a shallow basement below.  “Follow me.”

Once all four were down in the cool dark basement, Danbury pulled a chain on a single bulb swinging overhead.  Nobody could believe what was on the floor underneath the lone bulb.  “As your father sold each of the cars in the collection he’d inherited, he took the proceeds and purchased gold bars.  In all, he bought exactly 100 of them by the time the last car was sold.”

The siblings were silent.

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“Since then, he has used seven of them for different things, mostly charitable causes.  The stack you see represents the 93 that are left.  He has stipulated that one gold bar be donated to Jim Bowie High School as a gift to the Auto Shop in Mr. Binderman’s name.  He said that’s who got him started on the path that led him to his ultimate fate.  One is to be donated to the Almost United Methodist Church.  He said Pastor Peterson would know best what to do with it.  One is to be given to whomever runs against Mayor Goodman in his attempt at reelection, regardless of who that might be.  Your father said he was confident that someone could once again lead Fort Stockton who had at least a modicum of honesty.   Someone with honor and a moral compass.  It didn’t matter the party or the person, just someone actually qualified.”

Bob’s kids were all in disbelief.

“That leaves exactly 90 gold bars,” Danbury continued.  “That is 30 gold bars for each of you.  He said  it would be up to each of you to share them with your own children or causes however you saw fit.  As of the price of gold at the close of trading yesterday the value of all 90 bars is roughly $7,000,000.”  Danbury smiled.  “He assumed that once you were armed with knowledge you would understand his desire to leave the house to someone whom he knew would enjoy it and the Imperial to someone who would assure that it stayed in Fort Stockton.  Someone who would enjoy it as much as he did.  Delagado’s current Buick is somewhat long in the tooth.”

There was a folder on a small table next to the stack of gold bars.  Inside was a picture of Bob as a small boy.  He was sitting with his mother and siblings at a dinner table.  FDR was sitting next to him.  Under the photo was a genealogy chart going back to the original Bob Irion.  There was a picture of Bob Irion as he looked when he served as Secretary of State for the Republic of Texas.

“Who the hell knew Dad was a millionaire philanthropist?” the oldest son asked.

“Or that he really was related to someone famous from Texas history?” the daughter added.

“And had dinner with a president!” the youngest son laughed.

With one his gold bars the oldest boy bought a fully restored 1957 DeSoto Adventurer Hardtop Coupe on Bring a Trailer.  It reminded him of his dad and his passion for Chryslers of the time period. Showing it, touring it, and enjoying it with his own children and eventually grandchildren, the white and gold coupe proved to be the best way possible to reach the generations coming up.  Sitting on the bench seats trimmed in gold vinyl with tweed cloth inserts, enjoying the color-coordinated door panels, a brown dash pad, and salt-and-pepper carpeting, he’d share family stories so they wouldn’t be lost to the ethers one day when he was gone himself.

And every time he looked at the gold roof and lower body sweep spear of the Adventurer, he thought about his father Bob, and a basement full of gold bars.  And he wished he’d have made it to Fort Stockton more often while Bob was still around.

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