[To see the rest in comic book format, click here.  Or, to see it in prose format, just keep reading.]

There were some things money couldn’t buy—even if Scrooge McDuck had been willing to spend any. One of those things was health. He had tried to work, but his head was foggy, his sinuses full, his chest tight, his joints achy… Finally, he gave up trying to do anything productive and grabbed a money bag. He carefully began stacking coins into a tower. Before long he had to stand on his desk to reach the top of the pile.

The door opened and Donald walked in. "Hi, Uncle Scrooge! Feeling any better today?"

Scrooge squinted, trying to balance the next coin on the stack. "Not now, nephew! Can’t you see I’m busy? Besides, I’m not sick at aah…aah…" He scrunched up his face, trying to stop it, but it was no use. "ACHOO!" The force of the sneeze propelled him halfway across the room and knocked over his tower of coins.

Donald rushed to his side. Scrooge lay on the floor, dazed.

"Now are you going to admit you’re sick and see a doctor? This has been going on since we got back from South America!"

"Finesense! I’m non! Er…something like that…" Scrooge mumbled. He sat up, then doubled over in yet another coughing fit.

"Oh, sure. You’re in perfect health," Donald said sarcastically.

He shakily stood, grasping furniture for support. "I am! Besides, do you know what doctors cost?"

"Yes! This!" Donald whipped out some paper money from his pocket. "I’ll pay if you agree to go, you tightwad!"

Scrooge tried to look busy, rearranging books on the shelves. "Hey! Where was that when I asked you to repay that loan yesterday?"

Donald jammed Scrooge’s top hat on his head and pulled him away from the bookcase. "Never mind that! You’re going to a doctor if I have to drag you!"

And that’s exactly what he did. Hooking the old duck’s cane in the back of his coat, Donald dragged him across the lobby, past the secretary’s desk. "Miss Quackfaster, my uncle will be taking the rest of the day off!"

"Er…" the startled secretary said.

"I still say I’m—koff koff—fine!" Scrooge wheezed.

But there was no reasoning with Donald when his mind was made up, and before long Scrooge was sitting on the examining table in the doctor’s office.

"Please cough, Mr. McDuck," the bearded doctor said, pressing the cold stethoscope into his chest. He coughed. And coughed. And coughed. "You can stop now." But he couldn’t. By the time he had it under control, he was so weak he flopped backward on the table with a moan.

"See what I mean?" Donald said.

The doctor consulted his medical books for a long time, then called the two ducks back into his office. "I’ve determined you have Voyahakinitis. You’re lucky you came when you did! It can be very dangerous! It’s a rare disease, found only in the wilds of the Amazon! Yours is the first case I’ve ever seen!"

Amid more coughing, Scrooge asked, "So what’s the treatment?"

"Some pills can clear it up now, but every time you travel, it’ll return."

"What?" Scrooge flew out of his chair. "No travel? But my global empire! Treasure hunts!"

The doctor shrugged. "You wouldn’t last a year."

"But I can’t just—koff koff—I’m fine! I—koff koff—" He folded in half with another coughing fit. Donald was at his side in concern. Finally, he slumped back in his chair and sighed. "Although perhaps I could use a few days off…" He stood and walked to the door, dejected. "Come on, nephew. Let’s go home."

Donald marched him straight home, made him put on his pajamas and go to bed. He brought a tray of soup and ordered him to eat it.

"Do you realize how expensive chicken soup is these days?" Scrooge protested.

"Relax! It was a dented can from your own company! Now rest!" Donald headed for the door. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

Scrooge let out a stream of curses, but Donald left without relenting.

He ate the soup, of course. It felt good on his aching throat, and now that it was opened there was no sense in letting it go to waste. And it had been a dented can, after all. His company couldn’t have sold it for full price, anyway. That was a small comfort.

He laid back and closed his eyes, listening to his alarm clock tick. It was the only sound, besides his own labored breathing, in the entire house. Gads, it was quiet. Too quiet. He didn’t need Donald’s nagging, but it would be nice to have some company…

Sleep slowly descended.

Several days passed, and the doctor’s pills worked their magic. By the weekend, he was feeling like himself again. He had had plenty of time to think, and had made some decisions. Now if he could just sneak away before the boys—

*KNOCK KNOCK*

He winced and looked for a place to hide his suitcase.

"Uncle Scrooge, are you awake?"

"Er…yes, Donald."

Donald and the boys came into the bedroom and saw him standing by the bed, in the middle of packing. "What are you doing?"

"Er…uh…packing," he said simply.

Donald snatched the suitcase away. "Are you touched in the head or something? The doctor said you can’t travel anymore!"

Scrooge yanked the suitcase back and kicked Donald on the bottom. "I know what that quack said, but I’m feeling fine now, and I’m going anyway!"

"But Unca Scrooge—" began the boys, taking turns speaking the same thought. "If you travel it’ll keep coming back…worse and worse until—"

"Until you inherit five multiplujillion, nine impossibidillion, seven fantastacatrillion dollars and some odd cents!" he burst out.

The boys regarded him with equally sad, pleading expressions. He was surprised to detect tears just beneath the surface.

"Oh, for Pete’s sake, stop looking at me like that! It’s just one last trip! Then I’ll retire, I promise!"

"Yay!" The boys glommed onto him for a group hug, and he grudgingly accepted.

"Fine, you stubborn Scot!" Donald said. "Where are we going?"

Scrooge clutched his suitcase protectively. "Who said you were going?"

"But Uncle Scrooge—!"

"Don’t you ‘but Uncle Scrooge’ me! I’m going! This is something I have to do by myself!"

"But where?" asked one of the children. "What is it?"

"Just a little…unfinished business, boys. Back in the Klondike…" His gaze became distant, and the boys knew there was no use arguing.

Early the next morning, Scrooge headed for the Alaska pier. As he neared the ship, his nephews’ voices rang out behind him. "Wait, Unca Scrooge! You forgot your big coat!" they chorused, dragging his heavy parka.

He stopped and shook his head. "No thanks, boys. It’s not that cold in the Yukon this time of year. I’ll be fine!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Now stop looking so glum and wish me a safe journey!"

"Bye, Unca Scrooge!" they called.

Umpteen years ago…more years than he cared to count, really…he had worked his way from Perth, Australia, to Skagway, Alaska, shoveling coal in the hellish boiler room of a steamship. This time he made the journey aboard his own private vessel, the Pride of Glasgow. The journey took a few days, and by the time the Alaska coast was in sight his cough had returned. It wasn’t bad…yet…but he didn’t have any time to waste. He headed straight for Dawson, and soon found himself standing across the street from the old Blackjack Ballroom once again. Despite the new sign calling it the "Frostbit Arms Hotel," he would always think of it as that.

Here I am again… he thought. One last time…

He went through the swinging doors, remembering his words to his nephews… "Fifty years ago I came through these doors… A piano was playing over there by the stage, and Goldie, the Star of the North, was singing…"

There was no piano now, and she was nowhere in sight. He went up to the front desk, his heart pounding. "I want to see the owner immediately! Tell her Scrooge McDuck is here to see her!"

The desk clerk, a sleepy-looking young dogface, picked up the phone. "Miz O’Gilt, there’s someone to see you by the name of Scrooge—"

Before he could finish saying the name, there was a sudden blur, and Goldie skidded to a stop in front of him. "Hi!"

"Goldie!" he said with a smile.

She quickly composed herself, leaning on the desk in an attempt to look casual. "So what’s a busy obsquamatillionaire like yourself doing way up here?" she asked.

"Well, it’s a long story. About fifty years long. You see—" Another coughing fit struck.

"Scrooge!" Goldie said in alarm, reaching out to steady him. "Are you okay?"

"I’m—koff koff—fine! I just—koff koff—cough!" The fit subsided. "I’m sorry. That’s part of my long story. Let’s find a place to sit. Got any coffee?" As an afterthought, remembering the first time he had been in this building, he added, "Provided I can trust your coffee, that is."

One long story and a cup or two of untainted coffee later, Scrooge shrugged. "So if I can’t travel anymore, I’ll have to retire."

"So now what?" Goldie asked with concern.

"Well, remember when you came to Duckburg for my Golden Jubilee? I said I didn’t have time for you, and you said you’d wait." He took a sip of his coffee, avoiding her gaze.

"I remember!" she said dryly. "What of it?"

He slowly pulled a black velvet box out of his pocket and opened it. "You can stop waiting."

Goldie’s eyes grew wide as saucers. "Huh?" was all she managed to say.

He leaned forward and slid the gold ring on her finger. "I hope this fits!"

"Th-that’s the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen!" she gasped. "Scrooge McDuck, is this what I think it is?"

It all seemed to go in slow-motion. Scrooge got down on one knee and clasped her hands in his. "I know I’m a few decades late, but better late than never. Goldie, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry I was never able to admit it before. Everyone from aliens to characters of Finnish legends has been telling me I was crazy to let you slip through my fingers! I’ll never be truly rich until I have you at my side. Goldie…will you marry me?"

She was frozen in her chair, suddenly unable to move. Dimly, she heard him say, "Well? Goldie?" He noticed her comatose state and shook her shoulders. "Goldie! Snap out of it!"

She did. "D-did you just propose to me?"

"Yes," he said with a smile.

"Are you serious?" she shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the lobby.

"Absolutely! Marry me, Goldie!" he said again.

She tried to speak, but tears stole her voice. Finally, she threw herself into his arms with sob. "I’ll take that as a yes!" he said with a happy laugh. He drew her into a kiss, and the years melted into one glorious moment.

"Scrooge?" she whispered, gazing into his eyes.

"Yes?" she said, gazing into hers.

Fury suddenly fountained up, and she yelled, "Couldn’t you have done this like umpteen gazillion years ago?!"

"Well, I, uh—" He stumbled backward, frightened by her outburst, and tripped on his chair. He fell back with a bump, and looked up at her beseechingly. "I was going to, really! I wanted to! I worked for days on the letter in that box of chocolates! When I lost it in the glacier, I knew I could never recreate it, and I just—I’m sorry."

She folded her arms on her chest and looked away. "I would have thought you’d come running to me after you got my letter!"

He slowly got up from the floor. "What letter?"

"After the fire. When Steele was in town."

"I…er…never read it," he said meekly.

She whirled to face him and yelled, "What do you mean you never read it?"

His own temper flared. "I figured you were just insulting me again!"

"That was a love letter, you dolt!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that? You’d just pressed kidnapping charges against me!"

"Because I wanted you to stop ignoring me!"

"Look, Goldie, I just…I never…" His anger faded. "I mean, I…I didn’t open that letter because…I was afraid." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I wanted to go on believing you loved me as much as I loved you, and I was afraid that letter said otherwise."

She half-turned toward him. "Really?"

"Yes! You’re on my mind every day. I love you. I always have and I always will."

Her expression softened. "Well, luckily for you, sourdough, I feel the same way." She took his hands in hers and leaned in for another kiss.

Several days layer, Donald, Huey, Dewey and Louie watched the Pride of Glasgow chug back into Duckburg Harbor. "Here comes Unca Scrooge’s ship!" Louie said.

"Yeah," Donald said, squinting at the figures at the ship’s rail, "but who’s that with him?"

"We think we know, Unca Donald," Dewey said slyly.

The nephews were right. The ship docked, the gangplank descended, and Scrooge disembarked with Goldie at his side. She wore a broad hat with flowers on it and a peach-colored dress. "Hello, boys! You remember Goldie?" he said in a remarkably casual tone.

"We were right!" the boys exclaimed.

Scrooge proudly put an arm around Goldie’s shoulders. "Meet your new aunt!"

"What?" Donald squawked. "You mean you’re getting married?"

"Yes!" she said. "Finally!"

Scrooge gave a nervous laugh. "Er…yes." A coughing fit interrupted him, and everyone watched in concern until it passed. "What’s everyone staring at? I’m fine!" he said grouchily.

The children seized Goldie in a group hug. "Welcome to the family, Miss Goldie!"

"Thank you, boys."

Scrooge put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. "Now, Donald, I’ll retire." He grabbed Goldie’s hand and started leading her down the pier. "Come, my little nugget! I’ll give you a tour of the bin!"

Scrooge rejoiced in showing his beloved every square inch of his Money Bin. Every nook and cranny had a story behind it, and, even after an entire afternoon of exploring, they had barely scratched the surface. It didn’t really matter, though; they had all the time in the world now.

"Well, that was my trophy room," Scrooge said as they returned to his office.

"Very impressive!" she said, peering through the glass dome at his First Dime. "But where is it?"

"‘It’?"

"The Goose Egg Nugget, silly! Assuming you trust me not to steal it again!"

He laughed. "Of course!" He spun a long series of combination locks until the massive vault door swung open. "After you, my dear," he said, stepping aside with a bow.

For the first time, Goldie saw the McDuck fortune in all its shining immensity. "Oh, my frostbitten pinfeathers!" she gasped, transfixed by the sight of the rolling plains of cash. A sudden compulsion overcame her, and she dived off the platform.

"Goldie!" he screeched. "No! Don’t! Goldie!" He was the only one who could swim in money! Anybody else would smash headfirst into the cold, hard cash. He launched himself into the air and came down in an expert dive. "Goldie? Where did you go?" She had disappeared! He scrambled around, digging in the dunes of coins, frantically calling her name.

Moments later, she burst forth with a spray of money, giggling happily. "Yipee!"

"But…how?" Scrooge stammered. He stared as she effortlessly did the backstroke. "I thought only I could swim in money!"

Goldie stopped and grinned at him. "I have always wanted to try that!"

He let out a slow sigh of relief, coaxing his heart back to its normal rhythm. It was some sort of miracle, apparently, and he realized Goldie would never stop surprising him. He smiled. "Wait here. I’ll be right back!" He burrowed back into the money and returned a few seconds later with a safety deposit box originally from his bank in Whitehorse. "Here it is!" He spilled out the contents: some yellowed papers, the Goose Egg Nugget and a small lock of blonde hair tied with a red ribbon.

"Wait a minute!" she said, momentarily ignoring the giant nugget that had so intoxicated her years ago. "Is that my hair?" Until this moment, she had forgotten giving that lock to him.

"Er, yes, actually," he said with an embarrassed smile.

She picked up the bit of hair and studied it, and her expression grew sad. "Was my hair really that color once?" She put a hand to her head, feeling the gray hair there now.

"Yes," Scrooge said. "Then it had the sheen of a gold nugget. Now it shines like silver. And your eyes have always been like emeralds."

"Oh…" she said, moved by the poetic sentiment. She threw her arms around him for a kiss, and although he fell backward in the coins he made no move to resist.

Word of the engagement spread quickly across the world. The marriage of the world’s richest duck was newsworthy, after all. The preparations were underway by the next day. Scrooge sat riveted in his desk, sweating bullets as a crowd of people surrounded his desk, each with their own demands. The ice sculpture, the cake, the flowers, the music, the dress, the rice, the food, the expense! It was too much!

"Out! All of you! Leave me alone!" he bellowed suddenly. Everyone bolted from his office in terror, scattering papers in their wake.

Goldie stuck her head in the door. "Is there a problem in here, Scrooge?"

He slumped down in his chair until his eyes were level with the desk. "Are you sure you don’t want to elope?" he asked. "It would be easier and cheaper!"

"After all the years you kept me waiting? No! I think I deserve the biggest wedding in history!" she said angrily. His expression only grew more miserable, and she relented a bit. "But in the meantime, relax! We can take a quick dip in the bin before dinner, and worry about the preparations tomorrow." She kissed his forehead, and he did began to relax.

Much worrying and many preparations later, the day arrived. The family gathered at Notre Duck Cathedral, shadowed by a flock of reporters.

Scrooge McDuck stared into the mirror, adjusting his bow tie for the hundredth time.

"Are you nervous, Unca Scrooge?"

"Er…of course not, Huey!" he said unconvincingly. The boys winked at each other and tried not to laugh.

There was a knock at the door. Gladstone was closest, but he was busy admiring his reflection in a hand mirror. "Would you get that, cuz? I’m busy."

Grumbling unkind things about his cousin, Donald headed for the door. He yanked it open and snapped, "Yeah? What is it?" He stopped. "M-m-m-ma—" he began. One of the two visitors put a finger to his lips and shushed him.

Scrooge was still fussing with his bow tie when he noticed the reflection of the two people standing behind him. He gasped and spun around. They had aged, of course, but he recognized them immediately. "Hortense! Matilda!"

Hortense winked. "You didn’t think we’d miss our big brother’s wedding, did you?"

Behind them, Donald frowned and carried on a one-sided conversation. "Hi, Mom! Nice to see you, too! Me? Oh, I’m fine. And you?"

Scrooge shook his head in disbelief. "You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed you—or how sorry I am!"

Hortense smiled smugly. "We forgive you. Although we would accept groveling…"

"Hortense!" Matilda scolded. "It’s not all Scroogey’s fault. We shouldn’t have stayed away so long!"

Huey, Dewey and Louie crowded around to get a good look at their great-aunt and grandmother. The two both seized their long-estranged brother in a hug.

"Ahem!" came a female voice from the doorway. They all turned to see Goldie, splendidly arrayed in her wedding gown and looking very peeved. "Is there something I should know about, Scrooge?"

He laughed, breaking off his hug with the other ladies. "It’s all right, Goldie! These are my sisters, Matilda and Hortense!"

Goldie’s frown disappeared. "Oh. That’s all right, then. Pleased to meet you!"

Donald watched warily. "Isn’t it supposed to be bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?"

"No sweat, cuz," Gladstone said. "I’ve got enough good luck in my little finger to get Uncle Scrooge hitched without a hitch!"

Louie approached the groom. "The music is starting, Unca Scrooge! It’s time!"

"We’ll be there in a few minutes, Louie."

"Oh, no you don’t!" Goldie waved a scolding finger at him. "I’m not waiting another minute!" She locked her hand around his wrist and began dragging him toward the door. "I’ve finally gotten you this far, and I’m not letting anything else happen!"

"Er…okay!" Scrooge said, embarrassed by the laughs of his relatives.

At long last, it was happening. Scrooge McDuck and Goldie O’Gilt stood together at the altar of Notre Duck Cathedral. Huey, Dewey, Louie, Donald, Daisy, Gladstone, Miss Quackfaster, Gyro Gearloose, Hortense, Matilda, Ludwig, Grandma Duck, Gus Goose, and numerous other friends and relatives watched from the pews. A sobbing Brigitta MacBridge sat near the back.

"Dearly beloved," began the clergyman, a gangly bird of some sort. "We are gathered here today to join this duck and this woman in holy matrimony. If anyone has a reason why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Goldie and Scrooge turned to the others with murderous looks, absolutely forbidding anyone to utter a word. Near the back of the sanctuary, Daisy was holding Brigitta’s beak shut, and gave the couple a thumbs-up and a wink.

Suddenly, the door at the back of the room swung open and Scrooge’s doctor hurried in. "Actually, I believe I may have a reason!" he announced. He was breathless and had apparently been running.

Amid gasps and frowns, he hurried to the altar and meekly faced the groom. "Well, you see, my medical books are over fifty years old. I didn’t realize a cure had been found for Voyahakinitis…in 1932. One injection and you’re cured! There’s no reason to quit traveling!" He trembled as Scrooge’s jaw dropped.

"What?"

"Please don’t sue me!" the doctor said in a tiny voice.

Scrooge glanced at Goldie, who looked as if the world was disintegrating around her. She gave him a pleading look. "Um…" he faltered for one brief moment. Then he put his arms tightly around her shoulders and scowled at the physician. "Sorry, Doctor, but I’ve got more important things to do!"

"Oh!" she gasped and threw her arms around him. "I love you!" she said through threatening tears.

He stepped back and put a hand on her cheek, wiping away the single tear that had managed to escape. "Now shall we get married before anything else happens?"

She smiled and lowered an eyebrow. "Believe me, I thought you’d never ask!"

And so, finally, Scrooge and Goldie heard the magic words, "I now pronounce you duck and wife." They kissed tenderly to the applause and sniffles of the guests.

Scrooge held her at arm’s length, basking in the glow of her smile. "Hello, Mrs. McDuck," he said quietly.

"You have no idea how good that sounds," she said, shutting her eyes in rapture.

The reception was brief—mainly because Scrooge refused to pay for food and drink for all the guests. Goldie threw her bouquet into a crowd of hopeful young women, and although Daisy fought tooth and nail to get closest, the bundle of flowers landed in the lap of a tearful Brigitta MacBridge. No one could be sure, but it was probably not by accident. Goldie could see how smitten Brigitta was with Scrooge, and although she had no chance with him she deserved happiness, too. Perhaps the token sign would nudge her in the right direction.

Donald sighed in relief, grateful for the reprieve. If Daisy had caught the darn thing, she’d be pestering him for months to pop the question. Oh, who was he fooling? She’d be pestering him about it anyway.

Scrooge winced in horror. "Those flowers were expensive!" he moaned. Goldie giggled, and his sisters rolled their eyes in fond amusement.

Soon, dusk fell over Duckburg, and the happy couple left the church amid sprays of rice and good wishes. As they headed for the car, Scrooge pointed a threatening finger at Donald. "Now don’t spend my entire fortune on ice cream sodas while I’m gone!"

Donald looked injured. "Who, me?"

"Don’t worry, Unca Scrooge," the boys said. "We’ll take good care of things while you and Aunt Goldie are on your honeymoon."

He helped the bride get her huge dress into the back seat of the limousine, then sat down beside her. A spattering of rice hit the window. "That had better be cheap rice they’re throwing," he said, lowering a critical eyebrow.

"You’re cute when you’re stingy," Goldie said with a grin. "Home, driver." She kissed him on the cheek.

"Aw, well," Scrooge mumbled, blushing. She nuzzled up under his chin and sighed in contentment.

"By the way, fifty years ago I could have carried you over the threshold, but now, with my back, I don’t know…"

"I’ve seen you lift money bags heavier than me!" She laughed. "But I understand."

"And I know we were only going to my cabin on Bear Mountain for our honeymoon, but now, with what the doctor said, we could expand our itinerary!"

"I wouldn’t mind seeing your castle in Scotland," she said, her green eyes sparkling.

"Maybe Paris?"

"Sure!"

"The pyramids?"

"Why not?"

"Outer Mongolia?"

She reached forward and tightened his bow tie with an impish smile. "Don’t push your luck, sourdough!"

They laughed and sank into each other’s embrace, watching the trees slide by along the roadside.

"I love you, Scrooge," she whispered.

"I love you, too, Goldie."