Page 6 of The Session

“I can show you the spreadsheet. There’s a private school, Georgia Academy, that will let us use their facilities for the rest of the year. They asked for six thousand three hundred. The other thousand was more of a stretch goal,” Mark explained.

“Seven thousand dollars?” Morris repeated. “That’s how much you came here to raise?”

“Yes, sir. I might have been a little ambitious,” he admitted.

“What could you do with ten thousand?” Tru asked.

“Ten thousand dollars? We could probably tie the location rentals down for part of next year.”

“What do you think?” Tru asked Morris and Kincaid.

“We can talk it over,” Morris replied. “We need to have an official meeting with all the members of the board.”

“I have power of attorney and all his board seats while my dad is recovering,” Tru replied.

“That works—unless you have an objection, Nathan,” Kincaid said.

“I guess not,” Morris responded.

“Mark, consider us in for $10,000,” Tru confirmed.

“Really?” he asked, amazed.

Morris seemed visibly uncomfortable with the decision but didn’t protest. “We’ll have some paperwork for you to sign. Nothing complicated. But we can’t just hand the money over like that.”

“That makes sense. And thank you,” Mark replied.

Tru stood and shook Mark’s hand. “Your sports foundation sounds amazing. You know Summit has youth and sports programs around the world. If you ever wanted to work with us, let me know. We might be able to find a place for you with Summit.”

Morris gave her a glance, followed by a false smile. “Yes. You never know if something might open up.”

Motive

“What do you think?” Tru asked after Mark left.

Morris leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “How does he not know?”

“Right?” Blaise chimed in.

“Clearly Carol didn’t tell him. Your NDA worked, I guess,” Tru said.

“That wasn’t my idea. I just made it easier to comply with.” Morris shook his head. “You don’t think he even suspected? My God. Just look in the mirror, man. The receptionist saw it right away.”

“Still,” said Kincaid, “my nephew has no idea who Paul Newman is. He thinks he makes salad dressing. What’s news here might not be news in Georgia.”

Blaise pointed to a small bronze statue of Max Lightman sitting on a shelf in the corner of the conference room. “You’d think he’d see that and have questions.”

“And shout ‘Dad’?” Tru countered. “I don’t think the thought would even cross his mind.”

“Come on. I used to wish my real father was Kirk Douglas. You’re telling me a kid who doesn’t know who his real father is wouldn’t start to wonder and imagine it was someone famous and powerful?” Morris pressed.

“Maybe he did, but it wasn’t Max,” Tru said.

“Don’t tell Max that. The only thing worse than having your illegitimate kid pop out of nowhere is him having no idea who you are.” Morris shook his head ruefully.

“He looked a lot like Kevin,” Tru noted.

“Don’t tell Marnie that. Max was screwing Carol at the same time she was pregnant with Kevin,” Morris warned.