Chapter 9: Flame meet Foam

Interlude: 25^th Anniversary

Cindy:

Dad will never talk about the press conference. No one will talk about it. Mom just smiles. Whatever was said, it was done strictly off the record. As bad as their reputations are, journalists pay attention to that kind of thing. All we know is that everyone came out looking like a cat with canary feathers in its mouth.

Mom and Dad had only known each other a couple of weeks. That had to have raised some eyebrows. Dad says that he only introduced Mom, then let her do the presentation. He always says 'presentation', not speech or talk. There were probably some numbers and graphs and things. Mom can make anything interesting.

Sheila:

I did not know what had happened in the night, but my vigil had born fruit. I simply hoped it was not poisonous. I guessed it was like Sean's "I know what to do, but not how to explain it" moments. Whatever. I had gained a serenity that I had envied in Christine. She has no decisions to make. Mine were already made. I tried not to think about the consequences, because it would scare the spit out of me.

My audience was one woman, four men and Sean, who already knew. I examined the five. Three of the men I might have approached as potential clients. The fourth was Francis Costello from the local paper. The woman was clearly paired with the star of the bunch, Michael Gordon of the Wall Street Journal. I had the hook. I just needed the bait.

"Gentlemen, Miss Smith, I am Sheila Schwartz, soon to be Schwartz-Richards. The reason you are in this room is that Sean and I have had dealings of a business nature, which are of interest to your readers, right? Right?" All the heads nodded. "Bullshit. While I agree that this is reportable news, we would not have a fairly senior Journal columnist here just for the neighborhood project. It's the wedding—and something else.

"Before we get to the official reason for your visit, I am going to go into the "something else" in some detail. There will be images, some of which we will provide as hard copy, with a no reproduction proviso. Some will be eyes only. Does anyone need to bow out under those restrictions?" No one did. They were now on the record as having agreed to some heavy restrictions. "Let me be clear. What I will show and explain is sensitive. It is not, strictly speaking off the record, but it is background material. We are asking for, and expecting, a great deal of discretion."

Good Journalists treat their profession as a calling. There is an honor code. Everyone knows that confidential sources cannot be compelled in court. That understanding was bought by a line of reporters going to jail rather than give up a name. This group, even Francis Costello, was of an honorable bent. The plan was use that fact to hide in plain sight. I had prepared a PowerPoint slide show, which I was about to put up on Sean's 60" screen.

"Some of you will be more familiar with photography than others. I will leave it to you to discuss the picture quality. I worked closely with Justin Immons on a recent catalog. Justin, who is a professional, says that they are excellent. This is Jason Porter." There were gasps. I was showing the digital version of the catalog cover. It was the first time I had seen it that large. I had to admit, the image had real power.