The Collectibles Read Free Page B

lured by the majesty of the mountain and its bounty and by Howard’s competence, charm, warmth, and grace. They felt safe with Howard. There was Aunt Lettie’s humor and mountain cooking, too.
    Increasingly, Howard had allowed Joe to come on these trips. The executives, or “city fellas” as Uncle Howard called them, were, for Joe, a window to another world. Joe loved to watch them as they struggled through the narrow passes. First Joe noticed the difference in the way they talked. Not only the words they used but the sound of the words. What Uncle Howard called their “New York City way of speaking.” Then there was a difference in the way they walked, the way they moved. It was hard to explain, but there was something in the way they acted that gave Joe the impression that they had seen it all, that nothing could surprise them. Finally, their clothes were the kind Joe had only seen in catalogs, sort of fancy and finished at the same time, all new and expensive. Joe felt they lived in a different world.
    Occasionally, they would even say a few words to Joe. They could not keep up with Howard, though he had them by fifteen or twenty years. At night, they gathered around the campfire, watching Howard cook. While usually tired, they were expansive, at times euphoric, as they recounted their experiences during the day. They missed their shots, lost their fish, or found their traps empty, and acted as if they had conquered the world. Eventually, in one way or another, they would turn the talk to their lives and how successful they were in their business deals. Joe could tell from the way Uncle Howard kept taking off his cap and putting it on again he didn’t care too much for the bragging part, but Joe wanted to hear it all. Where they went, their cars, their Lear jets, and especially their boats and where they would take them on the ocean. It was another world. Someday Joe would have a boat and drive it in the ocean himself.
    Howard insisted on no alcohol during the day and indeed discouraged it altogether. But often, the flasks would appear after supper “to add a nip to their coffee,” and that added fuel to their words. After Howard had listened intently to all of their stories, and told a few of his own, he would suggest it was time to turn in and “allow all the other animals in the mountains to get some sleep.” Joe watched Howard carefully, taking it all in.
    The moon was high and bright now. Joe sat by the fire watching it until the last ember died, replaying the conversation with his uncle over and over. The air turned chilly. His uncle’s words burned hot in his mind.
Do what the other fella can’t. Be what the other fella ain’t. And then help the other fella.
    Joe crawled into his sleeping bag. He finally fell asleep, but not before making himself a promise.
I may have to go through this world being average – but I swear, I’ll be uncommon along the way.

 
Chapter 2: Preston
    H undreds of miles away and in a world apart, Preston, too, would hear words this night that would change his life forever. The only son of Peter and June Wilson, he had the misfortune of being born rich, and ignored by his father. From this father he inherited a tall, strong body with full shoulders, a well-proportioned and pleasing face, a full head of thick black hair, straight healthy teeth, and piercing blue eyes.
    Preston’s mother was an even-tempered, slight-breasted woman of thirty-seven who wore her thin brown hair in a page boy cut and a small amount of make-up applied to her eyes and sparse eyebrows. She had thin lips, slightly turned down unless she happened to smile. When she did smile, her pale translucent face took on a bright, less hungry look and, at times, she actually had a certain glow, especially when she saw Preston.
    From his mother, thanks to her father, Preston would inherit a trust fund making him the sole beneficiary of 6.7 million dollars. His