“It’s okay, Billy,” I said. “Do your folks understand I’m not a social worker? I’m doing volunteer work that I don’t have the skills for. Or the time. Since the government in the form of the Board of Education can’t hand the girls at Bertha Palmer the help they need, I’m hoping the private sector will pick up the slack. By-Smart is the biggest employer in the community, you have a history of helping out down there, and I’d like to encourage you to make the girls’ basketball team one of your programs. I’ll be glad to bring you down to one of our practices.”

“My own girls do volunteer work,” Bysen observed. “Good for them, good for the community. I’m sure it’s good for you, hnnh?”

“What about your sons?” I couldn’t resist asking.

“They’re too busy helping run this business.”

I smiled brightly. “My problem in a nutshell, Mr. Bysen. I own my own business, and I’m too busy running it to be an effective volunteer. Let me bring you down and show you the program. I know the high school would be thrilled if their most famous graduate came back for a visit.”

“Yes, Grandpa, you should come with me. When you meet the girls—”

“It would only encourage them to expect handouts,” Uncle Gary said. “And frankly, while we’re putting out the fire Billy created, we don’t have time for community work.”

“Can’t you shut up about that for two minutes?” Billy cried out, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Pastor Andrés is not a labor organizer. He only worries about all the people in his congregation who can’t do stuff we take for granted, like buy shoes for their children. And they work hard, I know they do, I see them at the warehouse every day. Aunt Jacqui and Pat sit in that back room calling them names, but these people are working fifty and sixty hours a week, and we could do better by them.”

“It was a mistake to let you get so involved in that church down there, Billy,” Bysen said. “They see how good-hearted you are, so they’re playing on that, they’re telling you things about us, about the company, and about their own lives that are distortions. These people aren’t like us, they don’t believe in hard work the way we do, that’s why they depend on us for jobs. If we weren’t down in that community seeing they got a paycheck, they’d be loafing around on welfare, or gambling.”

“Which they probably do, anyway,” Mr. Roger added. “Maybe we should take Billy out of the warehouse, send him to the Westchester or Northlake store.”