Pike's Folly by Mike Heppner Page A

Reeses.
    â€œYou’re lucky, Nate,” he said. “You’re all alone in the world. No expectations, no dynasty to uphold. No mother looking constantly over your shoulder.”
    This last was a topic of great amusement to Pike, who’d endured Keeny Reese’s wrath from the time they first met. With Gregg’s mother now well advanced in years and suffering from a variety of ailments, he preferred to think of her in a more forgiving light. He’d be around a lot longer than she would. “Don’t take it out on your family,” he said. “You’ve got a great kid, which is a blessing.”
    â€œAllison isn’t the problem. It’s people like Celia Shriver and those other old biddies who keep soaking me for charitable donations. On top of which, I’m getting taxed up the ass.” Anticipating Pike’s response, he added, “I’m not like you, Nate. I’m sure you know all the loopholes, all the ways to get out of doing your part—I mean, no offense.”
    Pike shrugged.
Oh, none taken.
“You need a quick shot of cash? I can give you a hand, buddy.”
    â€œForget it,” Gregg snapped. “I’ll be fine as long as this referendum goes through. I’ve got a solid budget until the end of next year, but that’s when things get sketchy. Everything that’s going to trickle down has trickled down already.”
    â€œThus the Allison Fund.”
    â€œYep.” This was a referendum Gregg had proposed along with a few of his friends in the Rhode Island General Assembly. If approved, many of the charitable organizations supported by the Reese Foundation would receive their hefty subsidies from the state. Gregg didn’t like talking about it. The fact that he’d done such a bad job of managing his finances—oh, no one would come right out and say it, of course, but he knew what they were thinking—filled him with a shame that was second only to the other shame in his life, the one that couldn’t be named.
    â€œI’m getting screwed on all sides,” he said. “My mom’s idea of what a dollar’s worth is about twenty years out of date. I feel like I don’t have anyone who I can talk to about this. Allison’s too young—she doesn’t get it. It’s not her fault, it’s mine. I never
taught
her anything.”
    Pike rose and, with a sigh of departure, chugged back the rest of his drink. He could take only so much of listening to Gregg before his thoughts began to wander.
    Before leaving, he told Gregg, “You need to stop worrying so much about the Reese Foundation. It’s all a lot of self-righteous bull, anyway. Every fortune—
especially
yours—has an evil source. Decades and generations won’t change that. You might not be aware of this, Gregg, because you’re too far from the source.” He gritted his teeth. “But I made my own fortune. I
am
the evil source.”
    Gregg wondered what comfort he was supposed to take from this. Even after so many years, it still wasn’t clear to him whether Pike really had his best interests at heart.
    At the front door, Gregg thanked Pike for coming by. The weather had turned gray and blustery, with a patch of blue sky where the good weather had pushed off to the north.
    â€œIf you’re interested in joining me,” Pike said, “I’ll be in Concord over the holidays. I know a woman who runs a ski lodge in North Conway. You’ll like this gal—Sarah Cranberry. The Cranberrys are another old New England family, although,” he laughed, unlocking his car door, “that’s where the similarity ends.”
    Gregg stepped off the porch, trying to ignore the autumn wind circling around his ankles. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll come up for a few days. But only to look around. I’ll go shopping at the outlets while you’re doing your business.”
    They