“Sit for five minutes,” he told me.
“I’ll get in trouble.”
“Then I will donate enough money to make the trouble disappear.”
I stared at him, unsure whether he was joking.
He smiled.
It was not the arrogant smile I expected from a wealthy man. It was tired and slightly crooked, as though he had forgotten how to use it.
I sat.
He remained beside me.
That was Harrison Blackwell.
Founder of Blackwell Hospitality Group.
Owner of seventeen hotels along the East Coast.
Widower.
Father of three adult children.
And, as I later learned, one of the primary donors responsible for funding the hospital wing celebrated that night.
We spoke for less than ten minutes.
He asked what book was sticking out of my bag. I told him it was a used mystery novel I read on the bus.
I asked why he was hiding behind a curtain during his own charity gala.
