The Gift of a Legacy Read online

  I observed the surroundings again and stated, “Well, you must be really proud of what’s been done here.”

  Joey replied, “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, but I don’t see why we couldn’t get somebody to do all this work.”

  Gus roared with laughter, slapped Joey on the back—nearly knocking him to the ground—and declared, “Son, we did get somebody to do all this work … You.”

  Jason explained, “Joey, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you will come back to this spot many times throughout your life to pay your respects to your great-grandparents. You will never be able to look at that fence or these gardens without feeling good about yourself.”

  As Gus, Jason, and Joey loaded the remaining tools and supplies into Gus’s truck, I walked over to spend a few moments with Miss Sally. I looked all around the idyllic gardens that provided a fitting final resting place for my special friend and said to her, “Well, old girl, he did it. I just hope the rest of the lessons take root like this one did.”

  As the sun melted from the western horizon and twilight gathered, I closed the wrought-iron gate and headed back toward Anderson House.

  The next morning, my first cup of coffee and I were on the veranda to welcome the first hint of sunrise. Gus stepped out to say good-bye and let me know he was heading back to his ranch in Texas. I hugged the bear of a man, who seemed more like the granite statue of a rugged pioneer than an old man who was at least my age.

  I said, “Gus, I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Ted,” he explained, “I’m not going to tell you how much trouble you would have been in if you hadn’t called on me for this little project. Red and I discovered years ago that if you build a fence, it can go all the way around your property, but if you build a fence-builder, the fence can go all the way around the world.”

  Miss Hastings and Jason, along with two other guests of Anderson House, were already at the breakfast table when I arrived.

  The first new guest was recognizable to anyone who has ever followed finance or presidential politics. I smiled, extended my hand, and declared, “Mr. Forbes, it’s great to see you again.”

  He shook my hand warmly and responded, “Ted, it’s always good to see you. We have solved many of the world’s problems sitting around this very table, and I understand we have another little challenge to take care of today.”

  I nodded affirmatively and turned to the other gentleman. While Steve Forbes looked like he had just stepped out of a meeting in a Wall Street boardroom, the individual standing next to him, with his long, curly hair and an unruly beard, put me in mind of sketches I have seen of the artist Leonardo DaVinci.

  Hawthorne did the honors and intoned, “Mr. Theodore Hamilton, this is Maximilian Swayne, a treasured friend of Miss Sally’s and longtime frequent guest of Anderson House.”

  I shook hands with the musician and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have only recently become aware of your work.”

  He laughed and said, “I’m surprised you’ve heard of me at all.”

  I feigned shock and announced, “I’ll have you know I was just listening to your latest album the other day right here in this very house.”

  Just as everyone was being seated and Claudia was serving our breakfast, Joey shuffled in groggily and slumped into the chair at the opposite end of the table. I could see the blisters on his hands from my end of the long table, and he moved as if every joint and muscle in his body ached.

  He glanced up as Claudia set a plate before him and noticed Maximilian Swayne seated to his left. He did a double take and sputtered, “Who …? What …?”

  The apparently world-famous musician shook Joey’s hand and stated, “Who is Maximilian Swayne, and what depends entirely on who you ask about me.”

  Joey found his voice and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Jason looked across at Mr. Swayne and said, “If you will allow me to answer that. Today we’re going to be talking about money, and Mr. Swayne and Mr. Forbes have a lot to say on the subject.”

  Joey stared at Maximilian Swayne openmouthed until the rock star finally spoke, explaining, “Joey, Miss Sally and I were great friends for many years. Just as my career was taking off, a wise business manager gave me the gift of a few days at Anderson House. During my stay, I happened to meet Mr. Forbes and other frequenters of the bed-and-breakfast, who taught me many lessons, including how to handle money.

  “Most musicians spend their lives trying not to starve to death. A few of us find lightning in a bottle and discover ourselves surrounded with everything we thought we ever wanted. At that point, most of my colleagues somehow manage to squander it all and find themselves facing starvation again.

  “Thanks to the hard work and resourcefulness of your family, you were born with the lightning already in the bottle, but you’ve got to learn quickly how to manage your money and make it an asset for the world instead of a liability for you.”

  Joey seemed confused and bewildered.

  Jason interjected, “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to share my grandfather’s thoughts on the topic.”

  Red Stevens appeared on the screen and spoke. “Today, we are going to talk about what may, indeed, be the most misunderstood commodity in the world. That is, money. There is absolutely nothing that can replace money in the things that money does, but regarding the rest of the things in the world, money is absolutely useless.

  “For example, all the money in the world won’t buy you one more day of life. That’s why you’re watching this videotape right now. And it’s important to realize that money will not make you happy. I hasten to add that poverty will not make you happy either. I have been rich, and I have been poor—and all things being equal—rich is better.

  “Jason, you have no idea or concept of the value of money. That is not your fault. That is my fault. But I am hoping in the next thirty days you can begin to understand what money means in the lives of real people in the real world. More of the violence, anxiety, divorce, and mistrust in the world is caused by misunderstanding money than any other factor. These are concepts that are foreign to you because money to you has always seemed like the air you breathe. There’s always more. All you have to do is take the next breath.

  “I know that you have always flashed around a lot of money and spent it frivolously. I take the responsibility for this situation, because I deprived you of the privilege of understanding the fair exchange between work and money.”

  The room fell silent as we all felt the weight of Red Stevens’s words.

  Steve Forbes broke the silence. “Joey, money’s like most things in life. You can only learn so much theory, but if you’re going to really master anything, you’ve got to have some practical lessons.”

  Joey seemed bewildered. Steve Forbes fixed him with a stare. “Thanks to Mr. Hamilton’s invitation, Mr. Swayne here and I”—Steve Forbes put his hand on the shoulder of the rock star beside him and continued—“support a children’s hospital through a foundation I run with Mr. Hamilton’s help. Mr. Swayne has agreed that he and his band will play a benefit concert here at Anderson House’s amphitheater next month with all the proceeds going to benefit the children we serve and their families.”

  Joey still appeared to be grasping for some sort of meaning in all this, so I explained, “Son, you and Jason are going to organize the event, work with all the sponsors and patrons, collect the funds, and then—in what I hope will be an experience you will never forget—you are going to determine how best to present the money to those who need it most.”

  Joey protested, “I’ve never done anything like that, and I don’t even know where to start.”

  Mr. Forbes closed our breakfast meeting by saying, “Joey, it’s like anything else. You start at the beginning, and you do one thing at a time until the goal is reached. And if I might add a piece of advice, never focus on the money.”


  This sounded baffling coming from the world’s leading authority on finance.

  He continued, “If you focus on money, your priorities will always be wrong; however, if you focus on the people you’re serving, the colleagues you are working with, and the task you are performing, the money will always take care of itself.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Legacy of Friends

  Some friendships are a legacy left to us by those who have gone before. Other friendships are legacies we will leave behind.

  Miss Hastings kept me apprised of all of the details and the progress of the upcoming benefit concert. Her reports suggested that Joey was performing well, if a bit hesitantly at first. We scheduled a breakfast meeting at Anderson House two weeks before the concert to go over all the details.

  As we enjoyed all of Claudia’s culinary delights, Mr. Forbes ran through the preparations that had been set in motion by his foundation for the upcoming event. Maximilian Swayne assured us that he and his band would be ready to “rock the house,” as he described it, and his manager had alerted their entire fan base via social media, with which I am not entirely familiar. Jason updated us on the sponsors, media coverage, and advertising.

  Finally, I turned to Joey and said, “And now, it’s time for your report.”

  Joey cleared his throat, hesitated a moment, and then stated, “I have been to the children’s hospital a number of times.” He seemed to grow emotional and then said, “The kids are really amazing. A lot of them are in pain and facing life-threatening problems, but they seem to carry on as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Their families, on the other hand, are obviously worried about their kids and dealing with unbelievable financial burdens …” Joey looked down at the table, seeming to contemplate what he had experienced. “I have never seen anything quite like that. These people are really hurting, and I’m glad we’re going to be able to help them with money from the concert.”

  After Joey concluded all the details of his report, I spoke. “On behalf of Mr. Forbes’s foundation and the children’s hospital, I want to thank everyone for their efforts. Not only are we helping Joey understand the lessons about money Miss Sally wanted him to learn as part of her legacy, we are doing work that would make her proud.”

  I directed my comments to Joey and continued, “She also wanted you to learn about friends and friendship, and since we are putting on this wonderful concert, I wondered if you might be able to get at least three of your friends to fly in for the show and to stay for a week afterward in order to help us with the presentations and arrangements we’ll be undertaking to benefit the children and their families.” I interjected a doubtful tone into my voice and said, “You probably don’t have any real close friends like that.”

  Joey slapped his hand on the table and pointed his finger at my face, saying, “You have no idea about me and my friends. I have friends all around the world. They’ve gone with me sailing, mountain climbing, sightseeing, to sporting events, and to other things you don’t know anything about. I can get a lot more than three friends here.”

  I smiled and nodded amicably, assuring him, “No, son, I probably don’t know much about it, and we’ll all look forward to meeting your friends here at Anderson House for the concert and the work we will do the following week.” I assumed my lawyerly countenance and tone, stating, “But make no mistake, Joey. While we’re doing good things for a great cause, this is still a part of your great-grandmother’s bequest that I’m overseeing. We will expect and require you to have three friends here as a part of the lesson Miss Sally wanted you to experience.”

  The breakfast meeting broke up, and Joey still seemed to be angry and distant. He slipped away without giving me an opportunity to say good-bye before I left Anderson House.

  The night before the benefit concert, Miss Hastings and I arrived at the stately bed-and-breakfast, settled into our customary rooms, and walked across the grounds toward the amphitheater. As we approached the concert venue, I could hear the band tuning up their instruments.

  When Miss Hastings and I reached the amphitheater, we took seats in the back row and looked over the setting. The band fell silent and looked at one another as if preparing to play.

  I was fearing another audio assault of the sort I had heard when Joey played their latest album but was shocked to hear the keyboard player and guitarist Maximilian Swayne combine their efforts on a melodic, stirring rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon.

  As the last notes faded into the distance, Miss Hastings and I walked down the aisle and greeted Maximilian Swayne and the band.

  I looked at the rock star and commented, “I’m exceedingly impressed with your musical selection. I didn’t realize that you and a composer that lived five centuries ago could collaborate in such a special way.”

  Maximilian Swayne chuckled and replied, “An old music teacher of mine told me there’s no such thing as a good kind or bad kind of music. There are only good players and bad players. Pachelbel’s Canon in D was one of Miss Sally’s favorites, so the guys and I thought, since she’s resting right over there on the hill, we would offer up our own sort of tribute.”

  I have found that the pleasant surprises in life come not from the things we know but from the things we thought we knew before we had the opportunity to relearn them.

  Joey approached at that moment, pushing a young girl in a wheelchair toward the stage. She was tiny, seemed very frail, and had several casts and bandages in evidence, but she was smiling brightly, and her eyes shone with an intelligence and energy that was captivating.

  Before Joey could utter a word, she proclaimed, “My name is Stephanie; I’m seven years old, and I was in an accident, but I’m getting better.”

  She pointed behind her and continued, “This is my friend Joey. We have been doing radio and TV interviews to help the concert.”

  She looked at Maximilian Swayne adoringly, and he welcomed her. “Stephanie, it’s good to see you again. Let me introduce you to some of my friends.”

  The little girl had an amazing time as the band prepared for the concert scheduled for the following day.

  The next morning at the breakfast table, Joey introduced me to a number of his friends whom he had flown in—courtesy of his dwindling trust fund—for the concert and the week of work we would be doing with the children’s hospital. I may have seen a more disheveled and disreputable group of humanity sometime in my eighty years on earth, but I couldn’t remember when.

  The day was bright and clear, which was a relief. Weather is always a concern for an event such as a benefit concert in an outdoor amphitheater, but everything went off without a hitch.

  The packed house responded enthusiastically to Maximilian Swayne and his band, though I will admit to not appreciating the music from the concert as much as I had enjoyed their rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon the night before.

  Mr. Forbes took the stage during intermission to thank everyone for their generous support of the children’s hospital, and the crowd was appreciative and respectful, with the exception of Joey’s friends, who were rude and disruptive. Several of the security guards got them to at least quiet down to a certain degree, and then the show went on.

  All in all, I would say it was a near-perfect day that benefited a great cause.

  As my head hit the pillow that night, I was tired but grateful for all that had happened and slept the sleep known only by those who have done good work for a great cause.

  The next morning, as I settled into my place at the breakfast table, I greeted Steve Forbes and Maximilian Swayne and thanked them for all that they had done to make the event a success.

  Jason and Miss Hastings were excitedly recounting episodes from the concert when Joey entered dejectedly and flopped into his chair at the far end of the table without making eye contact with anyone.

  I addressed him. “Good morning, Joey. As I mentioned
to you, we need three of your friends to join us for this meeting, which will involve a lesson in friendship.”

  He muttered something I couldn’t hear, so I declared loudly and firmly, “Speak up, son. We can’t read your mind.”

  He shot an angry look at me and shouted, “They’ve all gone! None of my friends would stay. They took the round-trip tickets I bought for them, rescheduled their flights, and flew home after the concert. They didn’t want to do any work for the hospital.”

  Joey paused, and Jason slipped discreetly from the room.

  Joey hung his head and admitted, “I guess they really weren’t as good of friends as I thought they were, and this probably blows my inheritance, whatever that was going to be.”

  An officer of the court and a practitioner of the law often has to enforce things they would rather not deal with.

  I sighed in resignation and explained, “Joey, the provisions of your great-grandmother’s will and the instructions you received did, indeed, require you to have three friends present. I’m not left with much choice …”

  At that instant, Hawthorne opened the door and Jason pushed young Stephanie in her wheelchair into the room.

  She greeted everyone cheerily. “Good morning, everybody. I heard that all of Joey’s friends were getting together, and we were having blueberry pancakes.”

  Miss Hastings turned toward me and whispered, “That’s one.”

  Jason chimed in. “That’s right. Stephanie and I were just talking about it, and since we both like blueberry pancakes and are both friends of Joey’s, here we are.”

  Miss Hastings whispered, with a bit of emotion in her voice, “That’s two.”

  I resumed my legal proclamation. “Well, Joey, you have two friends here, but …”

  Hawthorne cleared his throat forcefully and interrupted. “Sir, if I may. I was honored to count Miss Sally among my friends, and she spent many hours sharing her hopes and dreams for her great-grandson, Joey, with me. I feel as if I know him and would be pleased to count him among my friends.”