“I know what that sound means.” He chuckles and lifts his eyebrows. “You have my attention.”

“What if we generate some positive press ourselves? What if we’re part of—or perhaps manufacture—a feel-good story that would give us some attention not only with potential clients, but with the sports world and public in general? As Finn’s demonstrated, a little love goes a long way these days.”

“Go on.” He nods, his lips twisted in thought as he does when he’s pondering the validity of something.

I motion to the letter. “What if I found him?”

“Who?”

“This Ryan Camden guy.”

“I’m listening,” he says and steeples his hands in front of him.

“This letter has been lost in the mail vortex for five years, Dad. Aren’t you the least bit curious about what happened to him? I mean, it could be a great PR story for us. The ace baseball pitcher who had all the talent in the world including a one-hundred-mile-per-hour fastball, but who decided to serve his country instead. A letter he sent you, thanking you, on his way to war, which has been MIA until now. What has happened to him since then? What if he still has a killer arm? He’d be in his late twenties, but I think with our connections we could get him an audience with a major league team.”

“We both know a team would never pick him up and sign him after all this time—”

“But think of the spin we could put on it. Helping a selfless veteran realize his dream he thought was dead and gone. It’s something heartwarming—a dream come true even after all these years type of thing. We could even set up a veterans’ All-Star game—a thank you for your service PR opportunity with press and the whole nine yards. The sports world needs some good in it. Something beyond its overinflated egos and ridiculous salaries, and this could be it.”

“Salaries, I might add, that you profit handsomely from.”

“I never said I didn’t, but . . . don’t you just need to feel like you’re doing something good? Don’t you ever get burned out from it all and crave the humanity in this business?”

“Yes, but let’s be clear. A manufactured PR stunt is not humanity.”

His words feel like a scold when they’re merely being honest. “I know.” The words come out as a sigh and sound like defeat.

His nod is slow and deliberate, his eyes serious as they hold mine. “What’s going on with you, honey?”

I purse my lips and shrug. “I don’t know. I need a new challenge? I guess you just gave me one, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I’m curious about this man who’s close to me in age and who felt so strongly about his duty, that he gave up his dream to fulfill it. That kind of selflessness is rare. Maybe . . .” Maybe I feel a connection to a man I’ve never met—someone who, like me, didn’t conform to predictable expectations—and have to figure out why. “There has to be a reason this letter was delivered now.”