Two weeks after the gala, the story broke again. This time it was not in the local paper. It was in a national magazine, and it was not about me. It was about Graham.
The reporter had found a business deal from fifteen years ago, a deal that had gone bad, a deal that had cost a lot of people a lot of money. Graham had not done anything illegal. But he had done something ugly, and the magazine made it look worse than it was.
The story ran on a Monday. By Tuesday, the foundation had called an emergency meeting. By Wednesday, Graham had stopped coming out of his study.
Delia was frantic.
"He's not eating," she said. "He's not sleeping. He won't talk to anyone."
"Then he needs to talk to someone," I said.
"He won't." Delia looked at me. "Maybe he'll talk to you."
"Why would he talk to m
