Crazy about me? Was that what the girls at Mt. Ararat were saying, or was this Billy’s interpretation? I turned back around.

“Billy, you keep sticking your naive nose into things you don’t know jack shit about.” The man who’d been in the room with Mr. William spoke for the first time. “Jacqui told me you had this insane idea that Father would bankroll your pet project; she says she warned you that he wouldn’t be the least bit interested, and now, on today of all days, when you’ve done your best to destroy our good name with our shareholders, you waste more valuable time by encouraging this social worker to come up here.”

“Aunt Jacqui wouldn’t even listen to Ms. War-sha-sky, Uncle Gary, so I don’t know how she can figure out whether it’s a good proposal or not. She threw her copy out without even taking one look at it.”

“It’s okay, Billy,” I said. “Do your folks understand I’m not a social worker? I’m doing volunteer work that I don’t have the skills for. Or the time. Since the government in the form of the Board of Education can’t hand the girls at Bertha Palmer the help they need, I’m hoping the private sector will pick up the slack. By-Smart is the biggest employer in the community, you have a history of helping out down there, and I’d like to encourage you to make the girls’ basketball team one of your programs. I’ll be glad to bring you down to one of our practices.”

“My own girls do volunteer work,” Bysen observed. “Good for them, good for the community. I’m sure it’s good for you, hnnh?”

“What about your sons?” I couldn’t resist asking.

“They’re too busy helping run this business.”

I smiled brightly. “My problem in a nutshell, Mr. Bysen. I own my own business, and I’m too busy running it to be an effective volunteer. Let me bring you down and show you the program. I know the high school would be thrilled if their most famous graduate came back for a visit.”

“Yes, Grandpa, you should come with me. When you meet the girls-”

“It would only encourage them to expect handouts,” Uncle Gary said. “And frankly, while we’re putting out the fire Billy created, we don’t have time for community work.”

“Can’t you shut up about that for two minutes?” Billy cried out, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Pastor Andrés is not a labor organizer. He only worries about all the people in his congregation who can’t do stuff we take for granted, like buy shoes for their children. And they work hard, I know they do, I see them at the warehouse every day. Aunt Jacqui and Pat sit in that back room calling them names, but these people are working fifty and sixty hours a week, and we could do better by them.”

“It was a mistake to let you get so involved in that church down there, Billy,” Bysen said. “They see how good-hearted you are, so they’re playing on that, they’re telling you things about us, about the company, and about their own lives that are distortions. These people aren’t like us, they don’t believe in hard work the way we do, that’s why they depend on us for jobs. If we weren’t down in that community seeing they got a paycheck, they’d be loafing around on welfare, or gambling.”

“Which they probably do, anyway,” Mr. Roger added. “Maybe we should take Billy out of the warehouse, send him to the Westchester or Northlake store.”

“I’m not leaving South Chicago,” Billy said. “You all stand around acting like I’m nine, not nineteen, and you’re not even polite enough to talk to my guest, or offer her a chair or a cup of coffee. I don’t know what Grandma would say about that, but it’s not what she taught me all these years. All you care about is the stock price, not about the people who keep our company going. When we’re standing in front of the Judgment Seat, God won’t care about the stock price, you can count on that.”

He shoved past his grandfather and uncles and stopped briefly to shake my hand, and assure me that he would talk to me in person. “I do have a trust fund, Ms. War-sha-sky, and I really care what happens to that program.”

“You have a trust that doesn’t mature until you’re twenty-seven, and if this is how you behave we’ll make it thirty-five,” his father shouted.

“Fine. Do you think I care? I can live on my paycheck like everyone else on the South Side.” Billy stormed from the office.

“What’d you and Annie Lisa feed your kids, William?” Uncle Gary asked. “Candace is a junkie and Billy is an overwrought baby.”

“Yeah, well, at least Annie Lisa raised a family. She doesn’t spend her life in front of a mirror trying on five-thousand-dollar outfits.”

“Save it for the competition, boys,” Buffalo Bill grunted. “Billy’s an idealist. Just got to channel that energy in the right direction. But don’t go threatening him like that over his trust fund, William. While I’m still on the planet, I’ll see the boy gets his share of his inheritance. When I’m in front of the Judgment Seat, God will surely want to know about how I treated my own grandson, hnnh, hnnh, hnnh.”

“Yes, whatever I say or do I can be sure you’ll undercut it,” William said coldly. He turned to me. “And you, whoever you are, I think you’ve hung around our offices long enough.”

“If she’s one of the people influencing Billy down there, I think we’d better find out who she is and what she’s telling him,” Mr. Roger said.

“Mildred? We got time for this?”

His assistant looked at the laptop and tapped a couple of keys. “You really don’t have time, Mr. B., especially if you have to take phone calls from the board.”

“Ten minutes, then, we can take ten minutes. William can call back the board, doesn’t take any great genius to tell them they’re letting the rumor mills grind ’em down.”

Pink stained William’s cheeks. “If it’s that trivial a problem, let Mildred handle it. I have a full day scheduled without Billy’s setting the house on fire.”

“Oh, don’t take these things so personally, William. You’re too thin-skinned, always have been. Now, what’s your name again, young woman?”

I repeated my name and handed cards around the room.

“Investigator? Investigator? How in hell did Billy get involved with a detective? You and Annie Lisa ever talk to the boy?” Roger demanded.

William ignored him, and said to me, “What are you doing with my son? And don’t try shuffling around with lies about girls’ basketball.”

“I have only the truth to tell about girls’ basketball,” I said. “I met your son for the first time last Thursday, when I went to the warehouse to talk to Pat Grobian about getting By-Smart to back the team. Billy was enthusiastic, as you know, and sent me up here.”

Buffalo Bill stared at me under his heavy brows, then turned to the man he’d called Linus. “Get someone on this, see who she is and what she’s doing there. And while you’re calling around, we’ll all just go into the conference room and talk this over. Mildred, put through those calls to Birmingham for me, I’ll take ’em in there.”