“That’s the thing,” he said. “Down deep, most people are pretty awful. Still, we spend half our lives pretending we’re better than we really are. I’m the worst, I know. I guard my reputation like my life depends on it. Because it sort of does. Once you screw up, you have to go through hell to get your honor back.”

I felt like Arch’s honesty deserved a comparable disclosure.

“Remember when I told you about my dad being a hero in Vietnam and everything?” I said. “Well, he died in Vietnam, but I don’t know a thing about him. I’ve never even seen a picture. My parents were never married. My mom got knocked up when she was fifteen years old and ran away from home. My dad was a stable boy at my mom’s summer camp. He shipped out for the Army before she even knew she was pregnant. They never saw each other again. Aunt Sunny took my mom in before I was born. My mom’s parents know I exist, but I’ve never met them. Never seen a picture of them either. I’m not even sure they’re still alive, though I figure they are, since my aunt keeps in touch with the people back home. I think she’d have told my mom if something had happened to them. Or maybe she wouldn’t.”

Arch shook his head.

“Damn, bud,” he said.

“I should have told you.”

“I understand why you wouldn’t.”

“I wish I had.”

“You can tell me anything, Charlie,” he said. “You’re my bud—my brother. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” I said. “It’s just . . . you understand, right? You and the Haltoms—everyone at Yeatman, really—you’re all so nice. I didn’t want you to think I was poor white trash.”

“You know how Uncle Jim got his start, don’t you?”

“Jamie told me.”

“You think he gives a shit if people know where he came from?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

“Well, they all know,” Arch said. “And what are they going to do about it? He can buy and sell the lot of them. And he came from nothing. Started with nothing but a shit-ton of determination. Now he’s the big dog. You could do that too, you know.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t.”

“You mean it?”

“Damn right I do.”

I wanted with all my heart to believe him.

“Are you really named after your grandfather?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You ever think about him, or your grandmother? Ever wonder why they’ve never tracked you down?”

“I used to ask Mom about it all the time. She always changed the subject. Eventually, I caught on that she didn’t like the questions.”

“Did your mom have any brothers or sisters? You got any aunts and uncles out there wondering what became of you?”

“Mom was an only child.”