Lakeside Cottage by Susan Wiggs Page A

Maurice’s advice had already gotten him more than he’d bargained for. He had signed with him because he’d been promised control over a feature film based on his life and the incident at Walter Reed. Naively, he thought this meant he’d be given discretion over whether or not the film was made. He’d nixed the project, only to discover the production company was going forward anyway.
    “He’s got a point,” Sam said. “Because of what you did, you can make anything happen. Have you seen the bottom line on your foundation?”
    “It’s not ‘my’ foundation.” It was a nonprofit foundation set up in response to unsolicited donations that had inexplicably come pouring in following the incident. One of the positive by-products of his fame had been that the American people, for reasons that often went unstated, felt compelled to send him money. Checks, and even cash, arrived with no explanation, no return address or perhaps a scribbled note: “For basic decency.”
    “In appreciation.” There was a certain level of discomfort in being given money for doing what anyone would have done under the circumstances. He’d tried sending everything back, but there were too many, a number without any return information. He quickly became overwhelmed by the flood of mail.
    A nonprofit administrator took over, setting up the foundation. That way, JD didn’t have to deal with the money. It didn’t belong to him. He wanted it to be given to paramedics injured in the line of duty, and to help disadvantaged kids pay for college.
    “You’ll find some new statements in the mail I sent you,” Sam said. “You’ve got some decisions to make. You can do anything you dream about. So what do you want?”
    Oh, there was so much. And so little. He wanted for this all to go away and to be his own person once again. He wanted the past to be different, for his father to be around and his mother to be a mother. He wanted the American dream of living a normal, ordinary life. He wanted Janet to get better.
    He’d had to go to war in order to fund his education. His foundation offered a different option to kids like he was. Thanks to the American people and their unpredictable generosity, a good number of kids were getting their education paid for.
    And all it was costing JD was life as he knew it.
     
    In front of the Port Angeles library, Kate turned off her cell phone and grinned at Callie, who sat next to her on the bench. “It’s a go,” she said.
    Callie grinned back. “Really?”
    “Yep. My friend Tanya loves the idea of running a retrospective about my grandfather. She pitched the project to her editorial board, and they gave it the green light. So it looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do.” She felt a soaring sense of elation. She’d started the summer in defeat, but now her fortunes were improving. “I have you to thank,” she told Callie. “You gave me the idea.”
    Callie flushed and looked away. She tended to shy from praise.
    Kate didn’t push. “Let’s go inside,” she said. “I need to get going on my research.”
    Aaron was already in the children’s room for a Friday morning program on making paper airplanes. Katecouldn’t stop herself from checking to see that he was behaving himself. For the moment, he seemed to be engrossed in paper folding. She released a small sigh of relief and headed for the computers.
    There, she spent a pleasant half hour seeking out archived articles and images of her grandfather, a few of which she’d never seen before. Then, thinking about Callie, she searched for Millennium Commune and Timothy Stone. Within minutes, she was engrossed in all the shocking, lurid details of the commune. Everything Callie had told her was true. And there were even some things Callie had not shared, like the fact that when Brother Timothy elected to rape a girl as a coming-of-age gesture, it was the girl’s mother who procured the child for him, bathing and dressing her like a miniature