“I want to give you $5,000.”
Dad frowned.
“That’s too much.”
“It isn’t.”
Martin held his gaze.
“Please take it.”
Eventually Dad agreed.
On the drive home, he remained quiet.
“Five thousand dollars,” I finally said.
“Yes.”
“For finding a box.”
“For doing what I was supposed to do.”
“That’s the point.”
“What is?”
“Maybe doing what you’re supposed to do has become rarer than it should be.”
Dad thought about that.
Then shook his head.
“You still shouldn’t do the right thing because you expect a reward.”
“I agree.”
“If you start calculating what honesty might produce, it stops being honesty.”
He looked through the windshield.
“You do the right thing because it’s right.”
“And then sometimes good things happen.”
“Sometimes.”
He smiled slightly.
“Not always.”
Then he added:
“But sometimes.”
A few minutes later, my phone rang.
Richard.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
