Young - The Hermit

CHAPTER ONE

Neal Grant watched silently as the cemetery workers began to fill the graves of his entire family. It was just him now. Alone. Something hed never been before. First it was his parents and siblings, then his wife and three wonderful children. All of them were now gone forever and all dead at the same time because of a drunk driver on a foggy road.
Hed been told countless times since the accident how lucky hed been. Neal didnt see it that way. He should have died with the rest of the members of his family. He almost had and had given up in the hospital when he came to and was given the news about the multi-car accident that had taken his family that fall day.
But the doctors and nurses hadnt given up and he survived. It would be another six months before he was back to his old, physical, self. Neal knew hed never be the same mentally. Turning toward the waiting limousine, Neal walked slowly toward it through the falling snow, leaning heavily on the cane that supported the left side of his body.
The driver, huddled in his great coat, opened the passenger door and then closed it after Neal worked his way inside. When Mark was back inside, Neal finally spoke. Home, I suppose, Mark.
The limo was already running and Mark put it in gear. But before he reached the exit of the cemetery, Neal spoke again. Never mind home, Mark. Take me to the office.
Concerned about his boss, Mark asked, Are you sure, Sir? Youve only been out of the hospital for a few hours.
Im sure, Mark. I just dont want to go home right now.
Mark looked at Neal in the rearview mirror for a moment, but turned the car toward downtown St. Louis, without protesting further. He pulled into the parking garage, stopping right at the elevators and hurried around to help Neal out of the limo. He pressed the elevator call button and waited until Neal was in the elevator and on his way up to his offices on the top floor.
He took the car for service and cleaning, and then parked it again in the garage, ready for Neal when he did decide to go home.
The office staff gathered around Neal like, in his thoughts only, not voiced a bunch of mother hens. He waved them away politely and went into his office, collapsing back into the heavy leather office chair with a grunt of pain.
Neal just sat there, looking out the window, hands tented under his chin, lost in thought. It was suddenly after five in the afternoon and the staff gathered at the open office door.
Sir? Cathleen OConnor said rather tentatively.
Yes, Cathleen? Neal asked, turning the chair around to face the door.
Its five oclock sir. Would you like me to notify Mark youre ready to go? It was said hopefully.
No. Just close up shop and Ill see you tomorrow. Ive a little more to do before I go home.
Reluctantly the small office staff left the office, worried more about their boss than any would say. When he was sure the staff was gone, Neal buzzed Mark. Eagerly Mark answered. Ready to go sir?

No, Mark. I wont need you this evening. And feel free to sleep in tomorrow morning. I wont need you until late morning, if then.
All Mark could do was say, Yes Sir.
Next Neal called home and told the housekeeper that he wouldnt be home and she could leave until the next day.
It was another hour before Neal got up from the chair and hobbled to the bathroom that was part of his personal office suite. The suite included a bedroom for workday pick me up naps. Thats where Neal spent the night, unwilling to go home to a house without his family.
The one thought of suicide had come and passed shortly after the doctors told him about his family. There was no way he was going to risk not seeing them in the afterlife, so suicide was out of the question.
But what was he going to do for the rest of his natural life? Everything hed done his entire life had been preparing for a family, or having a family. What did all the possessions and wealth mean now, with no one with whom to share them?
The thoughts, and the pain, caused Neal to toss and turn all night, despite the comfortable mattress. He kept spare clothes in the bedroom and was able to dress in fresh clothing the next morning. Neal even had coffee going for the staff when they arrived just before nine.
Ignoring the donuts that were a morning tradition in the office, Neal nodded a hello and left the office without a word. He took the elevator down to street level, and again leaning heavily on his new cane, began walking toward a nearby breakfast place. Despite not having any appetite he knew he had to eat. At least enough to keep alive.
He was automatically polite to service people. It had been drilled into him since birth that being rich didnt mean you were better than anyone else. It only meant you had more money than most. Nothing less, nothing more.
Pushing away his plate, breakfast only half eaten, Neal asked for the check and left the restaurant still feeling restless, and more than somewhat useless. Instead of turning back toward the office, Neal turned the other way and began to limp along aimlessly. Noting one of the small shops lining the sidewalk Neal had to smile. The shop was tiny, nestled amongst the other major stores in the area. Rather like a small cave in the side of a mountain.
Thats what I ought to do, Neal said to himself, a tiny element of his usual ready humor coming to the fore. Become a hermit. Fondle my gold in the back of a cave. Live out my years in seclusion, until the end.
Perhaps it was fate, destiny, or just a coincidence. One of the regularly seen and ignored people on the street carrying a The End of the World Is Near! sign passed by just then. And Neal noticed that the shop that reminded him of a cave was, in fact, a coin shop.
On impulse, Neal went in, having to stop, press a button, and wait for the owner of the shop to release the door lock. He had a bit of trouble with the heavy door, which was on a heavy-duty closer, but Neal made it in without any further injury.
And what can I do for you sir? asked the elderly gentleman behind the glass display counter. Neal felt his eyes widen slightly at the sight of what seemed to be a very large pistol in a holster on the rather frail looking man.
Gold, Neal said. I was thinking of buying some gold.
Numismatic coins or bullion? asked the man.
I dont know, Neal replied. Whats the difference?
Patiently the store owner explained the difference between numismatic coins and bullion coins. Numismatic gold coins, he said, have a value over and above the value of the gold they contain due to rarity of the specific type of coin, age, special circumstances of the coin, and other factors that have nothing to do with the gold itself.
Bullion coins, on the other hand, are priced simply on the amount of gold in the coin, based on the spot quotes of the gold market. They can vary from day to day, even hour to hour. Numismatic coins are held for their uniqueness. Bullion coins are held for their immediate value.
I think I want bullion coins then. Something that I would spend if things were different. Neal didnt say different how. He was still thinking of life as a miser, not spending anything, just counting the coins.
I have a selection. You prefer American Eagles, Canadian Maple Leaves, or South African Krugerrands? I have a few of each in one-tenth ounce, one-quarter ounce, one-half ounce, and one-ounce denominations.