“You look like him,” he said simply.
I blinked, confused. “My dad?”
Frank nodded once. “He used to come in here sometimes back in the day. Construction guys always need tools.” His eyes softened for a second. “He was one of the good ones. Always paid back his loans. Never tried to pull anything.”
My throat tightened. Even in a pawn shop, my father’s integrity had left a trail.
Frank disappeared into the back and returned with a familiar leather box.
“This came in yesterday,” he said, setting it on the counter. “Guy said it was his to sell. But when I opened it up for inspection…”
He lifted the lid.
There it was.
Dad’s watch.
It looked smaller than I remembered, like it had shrunk in the time it was away from me. Or maybe it looked vulnerable because it was sitting under harsh fluorescent light in a pawn shop, stripped of context and love.
“I don’t usually question sellers too hard if the merchandise looks legit,” Frank said, “but this watch—your dad… he’d never let this go. So I did some digging in our system.”
He tapped a dusty keyboard behind the counter.
“Your father pawned this watch exactly once, fifteen years ago,” Frank said. “Paid it back with interest within a month.”
A strange ache hit my chest.
Fifteen years ago… that would have been when I started at St. Mary’s Academy.
My fancy private high school.
My scholarship.
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The fees, uniforms, books, activities that scholarship didn’t cover.
Dad told me he’d picked up overtime. He never said he’d pawned the most precious thing he owned.
“The loan was for three grand,” Frank continued. “Records show it was right around the time you started that school.”
My eyes burned.
“That’s when I knew something wasn’t right with this sale,” Frank said. “But that’s not why I called you.”
He picked up the watch, turned it over, and pressed something on the side.
The back popped open.
