Marianne took a swig of coffee. This was her moment, her chance to deal a real blow to Regina and everyone else at GWGW. “Phasing out Florida’s community college system. They’re spending five million dollars on Tad Tucker’s campaign, just so they can shut down public community colleges. So they can swoop in with their … Christian medical billing schools. Christian prelaw academies. Christian sonography schools.”

“Christian writing schools?”

Marianne shook her head so vigorously it hurt. “We had no idea. We are independent—were independent—before they started funding us.”

“Why did you need their help? Why did you take their money?

Marianne tried to explain about the cost of everything, about Mark, but everything she said opened up a new question. How did she know Mark? How did it all get started? Why here, why now? What inspired her to start the school?

“I didn’t start it,” she told him, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. “I served as its first director.”

He took out his phone and read from the school’s website, which had somehow been changed overnight. There was a bio of Marianne under “About Our Teachers”—she was right at the top. But instead of listing her education and experience and publications, the bio described her as the school’s founder, a Virginia native who dreamed of starting a school for inspirational writing after graduating with her MFA (it did not say from where). At the end, a slew of corporate words: partnership and synergy and opportunity. Martin looked at Marianne and frowned, like he was very confused. Was the school not her idea?

Well, it was, she said, but not in a serious way. She had the idea that it could work, she said, and would be popular and profitable, but it was actually Frances Ketterling who wanted the school to open. Marianne told him everything she knew about Eric’s aunt, how she had the same dream, but was serious about it. She paid for the school to open. She paid Marianne to be here. It was a job, she told him.

“If she paid, then why did you need to go to GWGW for money?”

Marianne sighed—this was the hardest part to explain, the part she herself didn’t understand. “Running a school has so many expenses—all the fees and permits and salaries.” She struggled for a metaphor that would sound convincing. “We were caught a little flat-footed when we realized … how much everything would cost.”

“Don’t you collect tuition?”

“Tuition helps,” she allowed. “But, take my graduate school, it wasn’t providing everything I got there on my tuition alone. Though I guess I don’t see why not. The point is, most schools have this big endowment! We were just starting out!”