Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 03 - In Good Faith by Catharine Bramkamp Page B

give you a bottle of donated wine instead.” Carrie suggested.  She patted Patrick’s arm sympathetically.
    Ben grinned.
    The President then delivered a lengthy tribute to Beverley, listing among other attributes: her work with the homeless, her ability to find them work and things to do, her visits to their shelters, and her work on the board.
    As with anyone who had recently left us, the positive attributes were conflated, and any flaws were excised. Still, I shifted in my seat and played with the butter knife. Great, he had a perfect ex-wife; that always gives the current girlfriend confidence.
    “As you are aware, we have an opening on the board.” The President said jovially.
    Patrick glanced at Carrie, but she was politely focused on President and CEO Steven Baker. She is a good audience.  
    Finally, after canonizing Beverley Weiss and her many achievements, the President invited Ben to come and accept a larger size glass flame award to commemorate Beverley’s work with the League.
    “Bigger than yours .” He whispered to Patrick on his way back to his seat.
    Patrick smiled . “Sucks for you.”
    “And now, as we have in previous dinners, it is my pleasure to introduce Professor Marcel Von Drake.  He has been our program speaker for five years now, and you always ask for his return. The Professor is one of our HPL Shelter residents, and he is grateful for your continued support.  He is here to tell his story. Professor?”
    The professor looked the part of an aging academic, he was round and portly and barely fit into the rented tux someone had tucked around his body. But he did carry an aura of authority, as the man with all the answers. Not what I’d expect from a homeless person. I believe that was the point.
    Judging from his speech, the professor had an ax to grind with most of the civilized world He did complain with panache, I will give him that.
    Patrick shifted in his seat as the man spoke. He poured more wine into first Carrie’s glass, then his own. He gestured with the bottle toward the other tablemates, but they shook their heads, entranced with the vibrant message the speaker delivered.
    “I can’t believe he’s not working in some college.” Carrie whispered.
    “He was with a very small, liberal arts college .” Anne confirmed.  “He had to leave; there was some scandal, so he can’t get a job anywhere. That’s part of his challenges.”
    “ He is an awfully good speaker. I wonder if he’d come to our Rotary meeting?”  Our Flex man said.
    At first, I thought Flex was the name of a paint store, - for houses (of course I would think that). I learned Flex Industries actually makes coatings for optics, very high end.  That’s all the information I have because the awards and lectures had interrupted my burgeoning conversation with the Flex man.
    Carrie sipped at her full wine glass and continued to politely listen to the lecture, or rant.
    Patrick leaned over to me and whispered. “Maybe, he wasn’t too stable, or rather he’s not too stable.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “I heard a lecture on the psychopathic mind last year.”
    “Good heavens, why?”   I whispered.
    “We support a mental hospital in San Francisco .” He replied shortly.
    The professor did have style. He threw out his hands, bellowed, and ranted against society . He accused us all of being shallow and of not paying enough attention to the pain and suffering all around us.  He clearly hadn’t attended Thanksgiving with my family.  
    The professor made a segue into the invisibility of the common man and how it takes so much to get noticed, and that is all anyone really wants - to be noticed.
    “Okay .” Harold leaned over to Anne and whispered something in her ear. She leaned into him for a second longer than necessary, but he didn’t seem to notice. She nodded and moved quickly from the table, dragging the tablecloth and upsetting her wine, but Harold caught the cloth just in time and righted the