We were halfway back to the manor before Lynette remembered how to speak. And then she didn't stop until after dinner, when Marlon threatened to "noogie the hell" out of her if she said one more word about "that Colson moron".
Ralph and I sat alone in one of the living areas of the manor, watching the rebroadcast on a large screen. They had cut it and pasted together different parts. They chopped up my heated speech and put some of it after the regular interview questions. "Replay," Ralph demanded when it was over. It played again.
It was odd to see myself on a screen like that. I wasn't one of Lynette's tv programs. But I was. I really looked the part. I tried to think of how I'd see it, how I'd take it if I was a normal kid. But I'm not a normal kid. I have no idea at all how it played to them.
"Do you think Colson was right about Norton?" I asked Ralph.
"Abso-fricken-lutely. Those types, they always know the real score." I asked what he meant. "Politicians are surrounded by people who spend their lives analyzing the population. They look at data and compile it in the best way they can think of to make the politician happy."
"That doesn't sound like a very good system."
"Yes and no. It gives them blind optimism."
"That's good?"
"Not always. But it's better than blind pessimism."
Is it?
"It's the people like Colson who actually know what's going on in the world. I mean, really going on. Take away that monkey suit and the stupid hair, and he's a really smart guy. If he thinks this is the way to play it..." He shrugged.
It doesn't make sense that someone like Colson should care one way or the other.
"He's an old friend of Reggie's. Didn't they say?" They did seem familiar. "Reginald gave him his first network. STNN, the StarTech News Network. He started as a legit news hound."
"Like a reporter?"
"Yes. Didn't you read anything that Lynette gave you?" He scoffed and shook his head. "Key players, Jake."
All that time I thought Ralph was loafing around hooked on snacks and crappy programs, and he actually learned way more than me. Oops. "So what happened to him?"
"He played in front of the younger audience. They ate him up. So he went that route and he's now one of the biggest moguls in the entertainment industry."
"So that's the favor that he owes Reginald."
"And more importantly to us, the devotion to StarTech. He's right. Forget Norton. If Colson says to play to the others, then do it."
"Christophe didn't seem to happy about it."
"Trust me, Jake. Go with Colson on this. Christophe's got a personal axe to grind with Colson."
Lynette tapped on the doorway. "Did you want to know what's in your mail?"
Ralph pretended to yawn and said he was tired. I didn't know why, but I also didn't stop him. I clicked screen off.
"Oh, I was hoping I could watch it." Lynette sat on the couch next to me and turned the screen back on. I sighed and let her play it through. And again. But it had been too long of a day for me to let it go any more.
"Okay, it's watched." I guess I snapped. Lynette hurried to shut off the screen. "Sorry," I said. "Ralph watched it about ten times, and before that..."
"It's okay. I'm sorry it was a rough day."
Ralph told them all about his sister during dinner. And she was there for the rest. "It's okay. About what I expected."
"Oh, Jake. Don't hate Earth just because of a rough start. It's not all like this. Colson was amazing."
I felt the side of my mouth twitch. "He was? Could have fooled me."
She sighed. It was an annoyed sigh. "Do you want to know what's in your mail?" Yes, she was definitely annoyed.
"Sure."
She had it sorted into four piles. "This first set, it's just junk. People wanting things from you."
"Like what?"
"Money."
"Oh." I took one and looked at it even though she said it was junk. It said, "You are cordially invited to view our private collection of Dupree original mens' wear." It went on to promise me that only a "select few" are offered this opportunity. "I shouldn't go?"
She laughed. "Jake. This probably gets sent to all rich people. It's ads, just like you see in the holozines, only on paper to make it seem fancy. They might have a much higher price tag on the clothes, but it's still just a store trying to sell you something."
"And all of these are like that?"
"Yep. Those are the junk. This pile," she said, handing me another, "Are requests for donations."
"Of what?"
"Money."
"So the same thing."
She shook her head. "No. These people aren't selling anything."
"They're just asking for money and not giving me anything in return?"
"It's charity requests, Jake. Hard luck cases." She must have seen my confusion. She took the top one. "This one is from the Church of Solitude asking for a donation to help them build a new temple. See? It's people trying to do things, usually good, asking for help because they don't have the money to do the things themselves."
"Okay, well. Uh..." I was in over my head.
"I just sorted these. I'll give them to Christophe and he can send them to the Cosworth Foundation."
I felt like an idiot, but I had to ask. "What's that?"
"It's your family's charitable fund."
"Oh."
"It's like a company in itself. It invests a portion of your money in different ventures, then distributes that money for charity."
Finally, something my money did that I felt good about! "That sounds pretty good."
She grinned at me. "It is. Your family gives a lot of money."
That sounded better and better. Finally something that wasn't stupid or useless.
"So should we give the, uh..." I looked back at the letter. "Church of Solitude...should we give them money?"
She shrugged. "As I said, you have a company that handles these requests. These people only sent it to you directly to go around the process."
"Oh."
"They're hoping you'll just transfer the credits without them having to apply and appeal."
"And that's bad?"
"Yes. You want to know that you're giving money to good people, after all. That's what your board does." She put that stack of mail to the side and moved on to the next. "This pile is invitations." It was, by far, the largest pile. "Most of these Christophe will not let you attend. Some of them are more for Ralph, Reginald, and Christophe. And some of these we really, really want to go to."
I had to smile. "We do, huh?"
She nodded. "Absolutely."
"Then we'll talk to Christophe."
She was unable to hide her excitement and carefully set the stack of invitations to the side. "This last pile, it's personal letters. I didn't read them. Well, I did a little, but only enough to figure out what they are," she said quickly.
"Go ahead and read them."
"But...they're your letters." She pushed the pile to me. There were only a dozen or so. "Honest, Jake. I didn't read most of them."
I picked the first one up. It started nice enough. "Dearest Jacob." I skimmed to the end to see who it was from. "Who's Jackie?"
"Your aunt. Or cousin. Cousin?" Lynette frowned and shook her head. "I don't know, really. It's hard to get my head around because here, you'd be almost ninety." She gave a laugh. "You're an old young man. It makes the family thing a little difficult."
"So some cousin. Or aunt."
"Yes. Let's see. I think she is your aunt's daughter. That would make her...cousin. That's it. She's your cousin."
A cousin. One I had never met. One that called me dearest. Oh boy.
"She wants to meet with you to fill you in on your family. Apparently she is very big in genealogy. That's tracing your roots."