Finders Keepers

         Being a good, loyal member of the parish served by the local Catholic church, Spencer Wood again found himself coming forward to help when needed. In his late 50s, while life was presenting more challenges related to the inevitability of growing older, Spencer felt he was capable enough in regard to his mind and body to make a meaningful contribution of his time and energy.

The tray full of bills, sorted by denomination, each stack held secure with a triangular metal clip, stared up at Spencer, standing behind it with his arms gently folded midway between his waist and head. Glancing to each side of him, there was no one looking to see what he was thinking about doing, debating with himself if he should or not. Rachel had left to use the rest room, Morgan went to grab a cup of beer, leaving the chili stand at the church picnic to Spencer alone until they got back.

           The metal poled, tented 8 by 8-foot structure was open on all sides, save for the equipment around its edges and a long folding table in both front and back. Spencer felt it was a good idea to also make a quick turnaround glance behind him in the direction of the parking lot to ensure he was not being observed by any witnesses. The soda people on one side and fish fryers on the other were busily occupied with their own responsibilities, he noticed. Directly ahead, the socializing, strolling, laughter and activity that characterizes such gatherings went on as it always has.

           An unexpected gulp in his throat was followed by a trigger need to clear his throat despite Spencer having no other symptoms of a cold or any illness. It has been a perfect autumn day for selling lots of chili, temperatures in the 40s with a slight breeze and no sunshine to present any hint of possible natural warmth.

           Certainly, if one 20-dollar bill were removed, it would not mean the take for the day would be hurt that bad. And that 20 could be put to such good use – the slot machines in the tavern down the road from the park had been good to Spencer in the past, often enough to make the risk worth the effort.

           “I am putting in a lot of time for this church,” Spencer convinced himself, “like I have done for many years now.”

One 20 will, he reasoned, amounts to what ends up being about 50 or 75 cents, maybe less, per hour.

Immediately coming up with a cover story to justify this act instead of talking himself out of it, Spencer decided that he would say he was going to replace the 20 after needing it to put some gas in his car for the ride home.

           He felt his palms getting moist while standing there pondering. If this 20 yields a huge slot jackpot, then, as his rationale proceeded, he could simply reimburse the church not only the 20 but much more when the tithe is collected next week. Not if but when, Spencer said to himself. Those feelings, powerful premonitions like before, had paid off many times so why not now?

           Surely, the chance existed, a strong chance, he concluded, that the 20 would be eaten up by the slot machine with nothing returning to the sap who put it in there, all of these thoughts racing through Spencer’s head in a matter of a handful of seconds, but you can’t win if you do not play.

           “Be quick” he muttered to himself as he flexed the fingers and thumbs of both hands. Then it occurred to him there had been probably close to three hundred dollars taken in from the chili sales thus far and with three hours until the event shut down, there would certainly be more. Who’d miss one 20?

           The last couple times Spencer played those tavern slots he lost a bundle, making it more obvious to him that he was overdue to score big time.

           One last very fast pivot of the head to the right and left, then two rapid twists at the waist for a glance on each side and directly behind him occurred before Spencer felt clear to make his move. The 20 slid out smoothly and was thrust into his right pocket followed by a momentary, barely negligible sigh of relief and more surveillance in all directions.

            After serving an elderly couple who had approached for a mild, not too spicy or hot version of the product being offered, Spencer’s vision caught Morgan coming from the direction of the beer then going behind the row of stands to enter the chili booth from behind as is the practice in such instances.

           Then within the next 30 seconds or so, here comes Rachel unnoticed by Spencer until she was within about two feet behind him, saying, “Hey, dude, did you drop some money on the ground?”

           His eyes widened and head pushed back a couple inches on the top of his neck, Spencer’s first utterance was, “Huh?”

Then Rachel pointed to an area about half-foot to the right of where he was standing.

           “Look, there’s a 20-dollar bill laying there. Better be more careful when handling that cash. A strong gust of wind could have blown it who knows where.”

           Softly slapping his forehead with the palm of that same right hand which had handled the 20, Spencer could only muster an “Oh my God!” before bending over to grab the bill and shove it back into the tray where it belonged.

           Next, he looked at his hands and stammered something not as audible about them not working as good as they used to when he was younger, before signs of arthritis began to creep in, as Morgan and Rachel looped their aprons over their heads and tied them in the back.  

           “No slot machines tonight,” Spencer thought to himself as things in the chili stand returned to as they had been before the two other volunteer workers departed, convincing himself that he was getting tired and should head home to rest anyway instead of playing slot machines.

           Scrambling as his feelings of guilt mounted inside, Spencer felt motivated to say something more to Rachel and Morgan and came up with, “It’s a good thing you saw that 20, otherwise it could have ended up in the wrong hands.”

           “I’ll drink to that,” Morgan responded while taking a sip from his cup, followed by “You want some?” to both his cohorts.

           “Nah,” Spencer shot back abruptly. “I already screwed up once tonight and that was without being under the influence.”