The building itself, of mellowed brick and polished wood, might have been from the same architect as my new house, just with his dial changed from “House” to “Office.” The budget knob was not changed from “Obviously Expensive.”

The receptionist, whom I had never seen before, stood immediately as I entered.

The executive offices were arranged around the reception lobby and took up the whole first floor. I had only a moment to glance at the displays of good done that filled the room.

“Mr. Boyer. Mr. Kern is expecting you. Please come this way.”

I was escorted into the prestigious office of the director.

This sumptuous room provided a second chance to be impressed by displays of the foundation’s works, and wasn’t the real purpose of the foundation to give a person a second chance? It was an eclectic mix of architectural models of inner city recreation centers, African objets d’art, photos of smiling state officials, and Nathan at his desk.

He leaped up at my appearing.

“Jason! What a pleasure.” He shook my hand, and the receptionist retreated. “It is so good to see you!”

And it was. There was so much good for me to see. It was not the same as the opera, which was the grandiose height of human culture. This building was founded on a different importance-that of human worth. The budgets of the two were actually nearly the same.

I met Dr. Hugo Grambling, a sociologist, whose groundbreaking insight on the risks to youth of urban culture could hardly be underestimated. Dr. Gloria Fitwell-Monoque directed the foundation’s programs in the schools. Mr. Cordele Hyde was at the state capital, lobbying on behalf of the disadvantaged.

I could direct Mr. Hyde to four of my own executives who could advise him on lobbying.

And Mr. Ebenezer M’fele was in New York at a UN conference on aid to developing countries. He had so greatly expanded the scope of the foundation’s efforts since he had come on board the previous year. With the new African projects, they were truly thinking globally as well as locally.

We went upstairs to the staff offices. These people were not introduced to me, only pointed out. They were researchers, writers, and accountants-the full-time staff. Others were contracted in as needed.

The overhead alone for this operation, as I knew from George Elias, was four million a year, the majority of it executive salaries and their travel expenses. They spent six times that on programs.

So much good was done, one might wonder how any bad could be left in the world. At least, in this one state. But I knew better, at least concerning this one state.

As we passed the receptionist, she deferentially interrupted our tour.

“Mr. Rosenberg is faxing some papers.”

“Very good. Set them on my desk.” Nathan returned his full attention to me. “Jacob Rosenberg is our legal advisor. He is newly on the board. Your father was very impressed by him, and I’m sure you will be, also.”

The ground floor was not all offices, I found. There was also the board room. Nathan and I settled there after the tour, amid yet more conspicuous exhibits of accomplished charity, and discussed the past and the future.

This had been the salve for Melvin’s conscience, where it hadn’t been seared senseless. Had he really had enough inner conflict that he’d needed this much of a foundation to ease his guilt? Was I going to have enough guilt that I needed something this big to ease mine? I tried to look at it objectively. Nathan was doing lots of good things. It was reasonable for a person with extra money to use some of it philanthropically. There didn’t have to be other motives, and did the motives matter anyway?

“I expect I’ve been presumptuous,” Nathan said, “simply assuming you would take on your father’s role with the foundation.” He lit a cigarette. We obviously needed a smokescreen for this conversation.

“It would have been a natural assumption,” I said.

“Then I would like to ask you, what is your expectation? What do you think of the foundation?”

“I’m very impressed.” Melvin probably had been. “And there’s no question about the funding. That will continue as it has.”

Nathan laughed. “I hadn’t really had a chance to consider that it might not. That would have been upsetting!”

Upsetting, right. At least upsetting. I could imagine these experts trying to get real jobs.

“As for my own participation,” I said, “I’m not sure. I’m willing to put money in. For now, we’ll leave it at that.”

“That’s quite a lot.”

“And I’d like to get together once in a while, Nathan. We started a conversation two weeks ago that I’d like to continue.” I considered the man in front of me-sophisticated, sincere, intense, waiting patiently for the next words of this callow youth. “I’ve been going through Melvin’s papers. The picture they’re painting isn’t nice.”

“I understand.”

“How do you feel about the money you got from him, knowing where it came from?”

He leaned back with a deep sigh. “I’ve simply done the best I could with it.”

“I’ve been wondering,” I said. I hadn’t meant to get into this. “You warned me before, how money corrupts. I knew it was true, but now I’ve seen more closely how that works. What if…”

“Yes?” he said, after my long pause.

“What if I shut it all down? In some way that wouldn’t put too many people out of work. But what if I got myself out of it all?”

His stare was piercing, right through me. As debonair as he might be, his eyes were the eyes of a very deep man.

“I think you would have done a very noble thing.”

“Even if the foundation lost its funding?”

He took a moment to load, and let me have it with both barrels. “The foundation’s good work is small compared to the evil that your family’s business practices have wrought. On balance, shutting down the foundation would be a small price to pay to restore integrity to this state.”

He said it calmly, which helped me listen the same way. Then I calmly considered whether I should deck him, and then whether I should just fire him.

“Well, I asked for it,” I said. “You wouldn’t have said that to Melvin.”

“He wouldn’t have asked. Would you actually consider taking such a step?”

“I don’t think it’s possible. The tumor is too big and too deep. The patient would die on the operating table.”

We stepped back from the precipice. “It is something to think about,” he said. “I agree it would be, at least, tumultuous.”

Time for a new subject.

“Did you have a chance to call Angela?”

He smiled. “Yes. It was an excellent conversation. She didn’t commit, but she had a number of questions. I think she will decide to join the board.”

“Good,” I said. “That will be to everyone’s benefit.”

Back toward my office. I decided I needed a second opinion on the meaning of life.

“Mr. Spellman’s office,” the voice said.

“This is Jason Boyer. Could you please tell him that I’d like to drop in, in about thirty minutes? If he’s free.”

“Just a moment.” I was pulling out of the foundation parking lot. “He would be pleased to see you.”

As much as I would be to see him. I got on the highway and crossed the vast space between Nathan Kern and Fred Spellman.

Fred was waiting, as large as life.

“I’m just checking in,” I said. “Is anything happening?”

“From Governor Bright? No. I’ve heard nothing.”

“Is that good?”

“Probably not. Although I expect he’s still off-balance.”

“I’ve been through Melvin’s papers. I guess I know a lot of the details now.”

“I would advise you to stay away from the individuals named in those papers.”

“My own employees?”

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