Chapter 12 Seed Money
The smell of pancakes lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of ocean breeze drifting in through the open windows. The Harper family sat around the kitchen table in a rare moment of peace. Charlie, Alan, Evelyn, and Jake—each in their own universe, orbiting the same breakfast.
Jake cleared his throat.
"So… I've made a decision," he said, casually forking another bite of pancake into his mouth. "I'm going to Caltech."
Alan beamed with pride. "That's great, buddy! I mean, incredible! Caltech!"
Evelyn raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and offered a sly smile. "A fine choice. Exclusive, respected, and most importantly, local."
Jake nodded. "Yeah. That's the point. I want to keep my options open… stay connected to everything."
Charlie leaned back in his chair, arms folded, silently impressed.
Evelyn reached for her designer purse and retrieved a sleek leather checkbook. "Well, then. Since my only grandson is now the future of American science, it's only right that I contribute. Let me help with your tuition."
Jake paused, setting his fork down. "Thanks, Grandma… but I don't need help with school."
Evelyn's face tensed. "Excuse me?"
"I appreciate it," he said carefully, "but Caltech's offered a full ride. What I'd like instead… is a loan."
Charlie glanced up. "Uh-oh."
Evelyn tilted her head. "A loan?"
Jake nodded. "Ten thousand dollars. I want to invest. I've been researching a few startups—real disruptive stuff. I've already found two with serious upside."
Charlie snorted. "You're asking Evelyn for investment money? That's not a loan, that's a deal with the devil. Make sure she doesn't ask for your kidneys as collateral."
"I'm sitting right here, Charles," Evelyn said coldly.
"Just making sure the kid knows what he's signing up for."
Jake leaned in, locking eyes with her. "You'll get it back. With interest."
Evelyn studied him for a long beat, something flickering behind her sharp gaze. Not pity. Not warmth. Respect.
She smiled. "You're your uncle's nephew… but smarter. Alright. You'll have it by Monday."
Alan blinked. "Wait, what—how come you never—"
"Because you, dear, have no idea what to do with money," Evelyn said sweetly.
A few hours later, Jake sat on the edge of the couch, phone in hand. Charlie had gone back to bed, Alan was in the shower, and Evelyn was out making some "strategic calls" of her own. The house was finally quiet.
Jake called his mom.
"Jake? Everything okay?" Judith's voice was cautious, but softer than usual.
"Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine. I just wanted to let you know… I've made a decision. I'm going to Caltech."
He could almost hear the pause on her end as the information sunk in.
"Wow," she finally said. "That's… that's amazing. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks. I was hoping you could contact them—see if you can set up a meeting for Monday? I want to make it official."
"Of course. I'll take care of it first thing."
Jake smiled. "Thanks, Mom."
He hung up and leaned back on the couch, hands behind his head, feeling the weight of momentum on his side.
Genius. Charm. Money.
The plan was coming together.
And this time, Jake Harper was calling the shots.
By 2 p.m., the Harper house was quiet, the kind of weekend lull where even the ocean sounded like it was taking a nap.
Jake sat at Uncle Charlie's cluttered desktop in the living room—a dusty PC surrounded by empty coffee cups, CDs, and what he hoped was an ashtray. The monitor hummed softly as Jake clicked through financial articles and early tech forums using dial-up.
God, this thing's a dinosaur, Jake thought. But it'll do.
He wasn't browsing cartoons or games—nope. Jake was pulling up market trends, skimming through early reports on rising companies. His genius-level IQ zeroed in on potential future giants, and a short list began forming in his mind:
• Apple (AAPL): Still recovering from the dot-com bust, but with the iPod's popularity rising and rumors of new products on the horizon, it was poised for massive growth.
• Amazon (AMZN): People still thought it was "just a bookstore," but Jake knew better. E-commerce was only going up.
• Google: Not yet public, but Jake was already keeping a mental note—when that IPO dropped in 2004, he'd be ready.
• Nvidia (NVDA): Graphic cards were becoming huge, not just for gaming but for future computing power. Jake saw the future of AI and crypto (years ahead of time).
• Netflix: A DVD rental company today… a streaming powerhouse tomorrow.
He jotted a few notes on a napkin from Charlie's bar. Ten thousand dollars could go a long way if placed right—and Jake didn't plan on missing.
Then came the heavy, dragging steps from upstairs.
Uncle Charlie, looking like he had been in a battle with both gravity and gin, wandered into the room wearing sunglasses and a bathrobe. He took one look at Jake on the computer.
"You better not be downloading anything that ends with '.exe' or 'teenbabes,'" he muttered.
Jake smirked. "Just looking up stock tickers and growth forecasts."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Nerd alert."
From the kitchen, Alan's voice rang out: "Charlie! Can you keep an eye on Jake for a bit? I need to run to the grocery store. Jake, can you fold the laundry while I'm gone?"
"Sure thing, Dad," Jake called back, not moving an inch from the desk.
Alan rushed out, leaving the two alone with a laundry basket in the corner and a long afternoon ahead.
Charlie looked at the laundry, then at Jake. "Tell you what… let's make it interesting. Ever played sock golf?"
Jake turned in the chair. "Is that a real thing or did you just make it up right now?"
"Both," Charlie said, grabbing a pair of socks and balling them up. "You pick a hole—couch cushion, trash can, cereal box—and you try to land the sock in it. You make it, you score. You miss, you fold a shirt."
Jake smiled. "And if I win?"
"I'll give you one of my poker tells."
"And if I lose?"
"You fold all the laundry and make me a sandwich."
"Deal."
They played for hours—using chairs as sand traps, setting par scores for ridiculous trick shots, and talking trash like two kids at recess. Jake even got a few pointers from Charlie on how to sound smooth without trying.
It was ridiculous. Silly. Pointless.
And absolutely perfect.
For a few hours, Jake wasn't a genius or a prodigy or the most in-demand kid in California.
He was just a boy, playing sock golf with his uncle.
And in that moment, life felt pretty damn good.