Readers will recall that in The Last Summer a lad named Jimmy got his bearings thanks to a summer of hard outdoor work with a bird dog trainer on a ranch in Montana. A year later Jimmy’s grandfather, who had financed that summer, called Ben Reach’s office and asked for an appointment. “Can you make it at about four on a Friday, and ask Dr. Sam to join us?”
“Of course,” Joanne said with a smile. She suspected that the purpose of the grandfather’s appointment would be a reward to the curmudgeons for what the Montana summer had done for Jimmy in helping him become a man instead of an adolescent.
Joanne had ice cubes, short and tall non-sweating tumblers, mixers and fifths of The Macallan, Jim Beam Black, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker Black Label, and Kettle One in the cabinet in the library-conference room when Jimmy’s grandfather arrived.
Ben and Sam were half way through their first three fingers of The Macallan. Both were feeling weary from a long week of stressful client-patient encounters in which they had found it necessary to deliver bad news, and were glad for the weekend break ahead. Tomorrow morning they would fly fish for bream on their favorite pond on Mossy Swamp Plantation.
Joanne showed Jimmy’s grandfather in, and the curmudgeons stood to greet him with hand shakes. They were relieved to see he was smiling, dressed casual and appeared relaxed.
He poured himself two ounces of Kettle One over three ice cubes in a short tumbler and took a seat at table end, Ben on his left, Sam his right.
“Boys, I am here to thank you for what that trip to the prairies did for Jimmy and to see if I can do something tangible to show my gratitude.”
The curmudgeons were hoping they would hear something like that and were ready.
“That’s not necessary but mighty kind. What did you have in mind?” Ben asked.
“A charitable contribution that might help other lads or lasses get similar help to what Jimmy got from Mr. Culp or others like him,” the grandfather said.
Ben and Sam were ready, but did not want to seem too ready. Sam responded in a way to seem to change the subject.
“How is Jimmy doing?”
“Great. I just got back from his boot camp graduation. He is proud of himself and eager for responsibility. That’s why I am here.”
“Here is one idea for you to consider, a contribution to the Community Foundation, make it a Donor Advised Fund. Tell them the purpose is to provide education opportunities for adolescents, including apprenticeships in dog and horse training and similar trades or crafts such as farrier. You can be the adviser or if you like Sam and I can be co advisers with you, you the lead of course. The Foundation could do like you did for Jimmy, give the mentor — dog trainer — enough cash to feed the apprentice and give him a modest stipend, or cover some of the mentor’s trip expenses.“
“That sounds good, but I want it to be anonymous so you two will have to be the advisors.”
This was just what the curmudgeons were hoping for, though they did not say so. With that Jimmy’s grandfather pulled a stock certificate for Apple shares out of his breast pocket and endorsed it for transfer to the Community Foundation of South Georgia. When he saw the number of shares Ben almost fainted. Then Sam saw and involuntarily exclaimed, “Good God A-mighty.”