Greg stopped at the edge of my driveway.
For once, he had nothing to say.
No smug smile.
No folded arms.
No clipped little speech about company policy.
He simply stared at Richard Caldwell as though someone had opened the ground beneath his feet.
Richard, meanwhile, looked perfectly calm.
Too calm.
“Good,” he said again. “You’re here.”
Greg swallowed.
“Mr. Caldwell.”
The way he said the name told me more than any explanation could have.
Respect.
Fear.
Recognition.
I looked from one man to the other.
“You two know each other?”
Richard smiled faintly.
“Oh, yes.”
Greg immediately stepped forward.
“Can we discuss this privately?”
“No.”
Richard’s answer came so quickly that even the crowd went quiet.
The woman beside me—his daughter—tightened her grip on her little boy’s hand.
Greg glanced at the neighbors, the phones, the donations spread across the lawn.
His face hardened.
