Free The Concealers by James J. Kaufman Page B

roads—are all in and the zoning is appropriate for what you want to do. Is that right?”
    â€œMissy and I have penciled it. You own a lot of real estate. Been through this before. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, y’know, get the business angle. And, if you wanna, you could donate some money to the camp. Sort of start-up. Get a little vigorish.”
    â€œI can have my people look at it,” Preston said. “Send the workup to Casey, my CFO.”
    â€œWhat workup?”
    â€œThe information you have about the real estate, its cost, the improvements, how much will be financed, the terms, and the pro forma, P&L, and balance sheet for the camp, all that stuff.”
    â€œI ain’t an accountant, but I got some go-to guys on the numbers. I’ll get it together.”
    Tommy reached over the table and shook Preston’s hand again. “Thanks for looking into this. I appreciate it,” he said. “And I think it’s a special thing you got with your kid, P.J. Makes me think about Joe.” Tommy crossed himself. “You gotta be proud.”
    Preston looked down at the table for a minute and then back up at Tommy. They finished off the wine and ordered dessert. But nothing could make the conflict Preston felt go away.
    Finally, Preston blurted out, “P.J.’s hearing-impaired.”
    â€œSo?” Tommy said. “Kids need special attention. Besides, we all got something. He may turn out okay; you said he’s only one year old, right?”
    Preston was surprised by Tommy’s reaction and wondered if he appreciated the full import of the problem. “Let me explain. They tested him at birth. They can do that now. He didn’t pass. But I agree with you. I talked to a pediatrician who told me his hearing may develop, but it’s too soon to know. Marcia’s pushing for having him fitted with hearing aids now. Can you imagine that?”
    â€œYeah. I mean, if that’s what it takes. Important thing is let ’em know you love ’em.” Another hand clap and a big smile.
*  *  *
    Preston awoke that Saturday morning with a slight headache. Over breakfast with Marcia, he described his previous day to her—from the visit to the lawyer’s office to his dinner with Tommy, leaving out nothing except Tommy’s feelings on the hearing-aids issue. Preston knew on some level he must be testing his wife’s patience, but he’d never held anything back.
    He spent some time with P.J., but felt restless and a bit irritable. He tried watching television but soon became bored and decided to take a walk. Maybe that would help clear the fog that had settled over his head during the past forty-eight hours.
    As he was leaving the lobby, the doorman handed him a Federal Express envelope. “Just signed for this, Mr. Wilson,” he said. “I was about to call and let you know. It must be important.”
    One glance at the Marion, New York, address told him it was. He dialed Ben Forsyth’s cell number.
    â€œLook, I’m sorry to bother you on the weekend,” he told the attorney, “but the package I mentioned is here already. I don’t want to open it and risk damage or contamination or anything—what should I do?”
    â€œHere’s my home address. Bring it by, and I’ll take care of things from here.”
    Preston at first felt a shock at how fast this was all moving, but he had to admire Beth’s determination and the integrity of her follow-through.
    After taking a cab to Ben’s apartment and giving him the package, Preston decided to go to the Manhattan store, even though it was a Saturday, to take a look at how the sales team was operating and try to put this matter out of his head. He knew he would never have peace until it was determined, one way or the other, whether Katherine Kelly was, in fact, his daughter.

 
CHAPTER NINE
K atherine checked her mailbox at the bottom