Free Stunner by Niki Danforth Page B

challenges his nonprofit faces.
    “Joe, this is all very intriguing,” I say. “I’ll bring it to my fellow board members at our next meeting.” I leaf through the contents of a folder Joe has given me. “We’ll see if we can be helpful and get back to you shortly for an official funding request.” I stop when I get to his biography and read through it quickly.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Lake,” Joe then says. “I appreciate your interest and the possibility of the foundation supporting our work. With the economy so tough, outside funding dropped thirty percent last year, and, to be honest, we’re scrambling.”
    “Please call me Ronnie,” I say. “And I hope it’s all right if I call you Joe?” He nods yes and pushes his thinning black hair off his high forehead. I refer to his bio page. “Your personal story is compelling, and I’m sure a big reason why you’ve been successful.” Joe smiles modestly, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his khaki-clad legs.
    I flip through other pages in the folder. “Before coming here for this appointment, I researched both your program and you.” He looks at me curiously. “I even read up on the Scranton Gang.”
    Joe’s dark, almost black, eyes become more guarded. “That’s so far back. How’d you—”
    “No, please, Joe. The way you turned your life around is an inspiration. And from what I’ve been able to learn, your brother, well, his life went in the opposite direction.” I lean back in my chair too. “What I want to know is how does one brother make his life work so well, while the other one blows it?”
    Joe gives me a long, hard look. “Are you really here to consider funding my program? How’d you even hear about the Scranton Gang?”
    “It’s not so difficult to find out these things,” I say, sidestepping the fact that it also helps to have a connected P.I. working for you. “I’m definitely here to learn about you and your program so the foundation can consider a grant.”
    His expression is now one of suspicion. “Is something else going on that I should know about?” He stands up. “I think we ought to wrap up this meeting.” He walks to the door.
    “Please, Joe, wait.” Damn. Did I blow it, again, like at the Moosic Motel with the desk clerk? Am I coming on too strong, too direct? In a panic, I dive back in. “Joe, I mean no harm. You worked hard to turn your life around and have succeeded brilliantly in doing so. You’re an inspiration. Please, I mean that sincerely.”
    He walks back to his desk. “Thank you.”
    But I can’t leave it alone. “Why was it the opposite for your brother?”
    Joe stares at me, sits down, and, I guess, makes a decision to play ball. “I believe in the power of one-to-one mentoring. In my case, a teacher early on took an interest and helped set me on the right path.” He shakes his head. “Bobby never had that important advantage. Plus he didn’t want to work very hard. I tried over and over to talk to him, but he never really wanted my help. So his troubles continued.”
    “What happened to Bobby?” I ask and try to relax. “Is he in the area, too?”
    Having gone this far, Joe doesn’t seem inclined to stop. “I don’t know. About ten years ago, I finally gave up on trying with him. I don’t keep track of my brother anymore and have no idea where he is these days.” Joe’s eyes look sad. “But I think I’d have heard if he was around Scranton for any period of time.”
    I decide to push things a little further. Maybe too far, but I keep my tone casual. “Whatever happened to Teresa Gonzalez? She was so young.” I lean in on Joe’s desk and steeple my hands. “From what I read, she sounded like the really tough one in the gang. Isn’t it unusual for the girl to be the alpha in the pack when the others are boys?”
    Joe’s gives me a sharp look, but he does answer. “Teresa was our first cousin—our mothers were sisters. I don’t remember much about her father, Uncle