“Evening, Mother, Ms. Webber,” she said, nodding in turn toward each of us. She came to the table and took the chair Derek had just vacated and dug immediately into his salad.

“Judith!” Marion exclaimed. “Where have you been? There were people here. I needed you.”

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry. I was tied up at work.”

“How could you work with all that’s happened today?”

“Well, I figured I’d probably have to take the rest of the week off. If I’m going to do that, I had things to take care of first. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t sound at all sorry, merely irritated. I looked at her, amazed that a brother and sister could be so different. Where Derek was sweet and vague and sort of gentle, Judith was brusque and direct and almost masculine.

“You could’ve called,” Marion said, putting an end to the matter. “I was worried.”

“Sor-ry,” Judith replied sarcastically, and I couldn’t help but think she sounded for a moment more like a 12-year-old kid than a grown woman.

The three of us ate silently, tension hovering around the table like a fog. I finally spoke, my voice sounding loud in the quiet.

“I didn’t think to ask you earlier, Judith, about your position at the company?”

“I’m CEO of Smythe Incorporated. The for-profit division.”

“I thought your father ran things.”

“Daddy was the president. The big decisions, the overall vision. I implement the day-to-day. Just like Derek does for Feed the Need on the nonprofit side.”

“I see,” I said, feeling a surge of frustration over my lack of knowledge. Usually, by the time I approached a company with a donation, I knew them inside and out. But this assignment had been so hurried, so different from my usual procedure. I had only the vaguest idea of how the Smythe enterprises operated, and most of that information I had gleaned from the brochure I had read in the reception room that morning.

“How about you, Callie?” Judith asked. “What do you do exactly?”

I eyed her cautiously for a moment. There was something odd about her demeanor, and I wondered if she had checked me out after finding me in her father’s office that afternoon and knew exactly what I did.

“I work for the J.O.S.H.U.A. Foundation,” I said. “I’m the Director of Research.”

“I told you, dear,” Marion added. “She works for Tom.”

“Director of Research?” Judith asked. “What exactly does that mean?”

I put down my fork, glancing at Marion.

“I verify the integrity of charitable organizations,” I said, “to see if they’re spending their money wisely and if their programs really do what they say they will do. Basically, I make sure they’re everything they claim to be.”

Judith looked at me, truly interested now.

“And if they are?”

“Then we give them a grant.”

“And if they’re not?”

I shrugged.

“Depends. Most of the time we just reject their grant proposal. In a few odd cases, we’ve actually helped bring out fraud or criminal charges.”