Synopsis

Dr. Dan Trix is considered for the presidency of a prestigious university in Berlin− until he is charged with sexual abuse of a board member. Elaine Newman’s foundation sponsors a seminar to recognize the philanthropy of a local company. A woman who attended suddenly dies. Elaine is considered culpable. Lester Ponzolli invests heavily in a speculative company. The company declares bankruptcy. Penelope Rinaldi-Goldman helps a fellow Wall Streeter broker a bitcoin deal that goes bad. She’s suspended and investigated for illegal currency trading. All a coincidence? Is someone trying to ruin Trix and those dear to him? As Trix, Lester and Elaine struggle for answers, not only are their livelihoods in jeopardy, so are their lives.

Chapter 1.

The lady beside me bought her perfume at Dollar General and had once bungee jumped off a bridge in Arizona.

That’s the sort of thing you learn in an ice breaker. You know, a sharing, where you discover particulars about other attendees and complete a scorecard. This was shared at a presentation for philanthropists sponsored by my fiancée.

Then it got worse.

The Star Attraction came to the podium. “I guess I’m the last speaker of the day,” she said.

The audience thought that was a real belly buster.

I’m not a chronic malcontent, eager to vilify anything and everything that doesn’t entertain or educate. As a former college professor, I have credentials in public speaking; how to lecture, how to seminar, how to present, how to do it right. I also know how to do it wrong.

As a hard-charging assistant professor, I was responsible for a segment in a faculty orientation program. Something to do with improving teaching skills, I was told. My clever idea was to record a classroom lecture that was quintessentially awful. In the debrief, the audience would enumerate the mistakes, pinpoint the failings, highlight the atrocities, belittle the hubris. The problem was finding someone to present a bad lecture on camera. Some of my colleagues insisted they didn’t know how to give a bad lecture. Others were concerned that the audience would misinterpret their professional standards, and some contended that the focus was inappropriate; we should exemplify excellence.

I was left with no alternative. I became the producer, director and actor. I rehearsed my class. We all performed terribly. I mumbled with my back to the class, ignored them while I scribbled illegibly on the white board and insulted them when they didn’t pinpoint an answer. It was a truly awful, seldom subtle performance that was shown to the assembled academy. The point here is that great lessons can be learned from the truly dreadful.

We were learning a great lesson that day.

If I had learned to say “no”, I wouldn’t have been in this predicament. My fiancée, Elaine Newman, the executive director of the Unbroken Shore Foundation, had a job where social obligations were rarely distinguishable from professional. She wined and dined and cuddled and schmoozed and had the admirable conviction that if you spent time with people and just listened, you would always find something you respected.

I don’t know if she had found that something yet with Vida Loosmann. I certainly hadn’t. Ms. Loosmann thought it was engaging to stand in front of the podium instead of behind, thought it would bring her closer to the audience, more one-on-one. I am a model for the casual, extemporaneous speaker, she was implying. Hear me roar. All went fine, until it didn’t. She had tried to memorize her credo. Flying high, no net. Then a rope broke. She forgot where she was.

A pro would have treated this like part of the act. Pause for a moment. Return to the podium. Have a glance at the notes. Continue beguiling the audience. She snorted a smile, stumbled around the podium, rummaged through her notes, couldn’t find her place, finally realized she had to say something then started at the top of a page that had nothing to do with what had come before. Great stuff for YouTube.

Finally it ended. Elaine planted the heels of her palms one against the other and tapped her fingers together. Maybe there was some noise. It looked polite.

“I’m not sure. Was that the hard sell or the soft sell?” she asked out of the side of her mouth while smiling at Ms. Loosmann.

“That was a seminar on how not to seminar,” I said.

“Is this New Marketing in Action?” she said. The audience was either extremely unsophisticated, extremely tolerant or in need of a miracle in their lives. They smiled and waved as they stood. Ms. Loosmann pointed at each and mouthed a few words as though recognizing old buddies.

“The premise being it doesn’t make any difference if it’s great or terrible as long as it’s memorable?” I said.

“Not soon to be forgotten,” Elaine said.

“What I forgot is why we’re here,” I said.

We were interrupted by acquaintances saying hello; most were genuinely pleased to speak with Elaine, as she was with them.

“Someone forgot to tell the Big Dog about the composition of the audience,” she said. “This was supposed to be a presentation in front of a philanthropic audience about the good works that Sun Goddess nutritional products does in the community. We got an infomercial. Somebody screwed the pooch,” she said.

“Not necessarily,” I said.

Sarasota, Florida, is a county of some three hundred thousand, depending on the season, largely populated by the elderly of pan-European descent and their landscapers. Elderly here denotes those over sixty-five, but certainly doesn’t describe their vitality or their income level.

Many have the good fortune to be able to play golf and tennis at private clubs, sail boats on the bay, dine on scallops topped with crab and have conversations regarding the quality of the latest facelift.

Their problem is not inactivity but overscheduling. They have season tickets for the opera, the symphony, Florida Studio Theatre, pre-season baseball. They complain about the parking surcharge at the Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall but absolutely loved that Tony Bennett concert. Any new restaurant is a tough reservation. The far reaches of the parking lot are popular. That’s where you find the Mercedes, the Maserati, the Ferrari and the occasional McLaren Viper, none parked close to the door of the other.

The philanthropic crowd drinks inexpensive wine, eat salads at lunch, donate thousands to charity but are giggly-pleased when they find a nice gala ball gown at a consignment shop.

They have health problems and many have a massage therapist, a chiropractor and an acupuncturist or at least a friend who can recommend one. They aren’t certain of the benefits of aromatherapy but adore the fragrances.

Which takes us to why Ms. Loosmann might not have screwed the pooch but instead provided some intriguing foreplay.

The hinges on the medicine cabinets of these philanthropists are replaced as often as their putter grips. They have pills to make it go away and pills to make it come back. Pills to open, pills to close. Pills to make it big, pills to make it small. Red, blue, oblong, round. If then, nitrized flaked barracuda fin fortified with rusted acacia berry and aloa-fortin seven will provide full spectrum support for their increased cardio-vascular needs, why hell yes, I’ll take a bottle of that.

The philanthropic community is a society without the secret handshake. Their clubroom is the bar at the Ritz. I should emphatically note that I do not denigrate them or their habits. Those who bemoan the wealth of the one percent are oblivious to the magnitude of their generosity. They enjoy giving. They enjoy being coaxed to give. They are humbled by the good born of their giving. They enjoy learning of the giving of others.

Which is why most of them had come to that small ballroom at the Hyatt Regency in Sarasota. As a bonus, they were now aware that lactobacillus bulgaricus imbedded in a supernatant was the key beneficial bacteria in any potent and focused probiotic.

The Hyatt was formerly a place where you expected naughty things to happen in bathroom stalls. Then management realigned their priorities, refocused their objectives, redecorated the rooms, reeducated their associates and out the other end came a Hyatt that didn’t require an apology. If the Ritz was fully booked, your reputation was not tainted by staying at the Hyatt. Their catering and banquets manager was eager to book seminars and speeches and focus groups and a Neil Sedaka Q & A. She was a lively pixie and Elaine was happy to promise that her next event would be at the Hyatt. This was that next event.

Elaine grabbed my arm and directed me toward Ms. Loosmann, who happened to have some small sample packets. She was explaining to an attentive lady in gold lame, with notable scoliosis, how cortisone was derivative but often helpful. Her potion, however, was based in nature and cultivated only in the rain forest of the Amazon, unique in that it was a calcium product hydrogenated from the fiber of a rare succulent. The lady in lame was effusively thankful.

The stately fellow with macular degeneration was fortunate because she happened to have a sample of Nipatriad Vision Stabilizer, in soft gel format, specially enhanced with Omega-5 and Zeaxanthin. Only one capsule per day required. No thanks to me, she said. I’m thankful to be able to help.

After a couple more of those, Ms. Loosmann turned to us and said, “You two look so healthy. Let me guess. psyllium husk powder, glumatine capsules, an enhanced opti-vitamin and maybe a colon cleanser.”

“I’m Elaine Newman, the executive director of the Unbroken Shore Foundation. This is Dr. Daniel Trix. It was our mailing list that generated your audience.”

“How nice to meet you,” she said as we shook hands. She was of sturdy Germanic stock; broad at the shoulder, broad everywhere, but all in proportion. I’m certain her ring size was larger than mine.

“You have a passion for your product,” Elaine said.

“I have a passion for health and well-being,” she said. One of her minions cuddled next to her. She excused herself for a moment while she retrieved more order forms from her alligator briefcase.

“What do you take to maintain that wonderful glow on your complexion?” Elaine asked.

“These.” She jiggled a bottle and handed Elaine an order form.

“I think you had a very attentive audience,” Elaine said.

“It’s simple but true; the older we get the more help we need. It’s so satisfying to be able to help those who need help.”

“I only know about Sun Goddess through their philanthropy in the community. The Hike for Health on the Legacy Trail was very well-attended.” We had been sent a flyer for the event. It was a family walk/ride on a trail that had been converted from a railroad bed. An event sponsored by Sun Goddess to heighten awareness of the value of everyday family exercise. Free veggie burgers and un-reconstituted fruit juices at the end. No doubt some sample packs of kids’ vitamins and order forms lying about.

“Our studies have shown that the healthier you are as a child, the healthier you’ll be as an adult,” she said.

“Ceteris paribus,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“All other things held constant,” I said.

She looked confused.

“He’s a doctor,” Elaine said.

“What’s your specialty, Doctor? Are you in wellness management? Is that your interest here?” she asked.

“Organizational mismanagement,” I said.

“He has a doctorate in business. He was a professor. That kind of doctor,” Elaine intervened.

“Oh, I see. Not a real doctor.”

“Who was it that assigned you to this presentation? I’d like to relay to them what a splendid job you did,” Elaine said.

“I’m not sure. They’ve been shuffling people between Berlin and the U.S. The company started in Germany. Sonnengottin it’s called over there. They want the Berlin people to understand the U.S. market. They have new people in the chairs now, and some new chairs as well. I received an email telling me to be here. So I am here,” she said.

“Your English is superb,” Elaine said.

“Yes, it is. I should see if I can help my colleagues. There are still people waiting with questions. Thank you for sponsoring this event,” she said as she moved toward a circle of people.

“Actually, we didn’t sponsor it. We just …”

She was off before Elaine could finish.

“Pay to play, lady. You ain’t buyin’, she ain’t talkin’,” I said.

Several in the audience, now with either bags or order forms in hand, nudged beside Elaine and thanked her.

“I have such a time controlling my statins. This may be the thing.”

“I’ve consulted three doctors and they all have a different story on my fibrillation. And to think all I need is this one little pill.”

“If this works for my arthritis, I’ll buy the company. You’re a gem, Elaine.”

There was a small bottle of something left on the table. Elaine read the label. “‘Extract of wild salmon oil with D-Aspartic Acid. For the enhancement of the sexual experience, only.’ Do you think it works?”

We didn’t have a control group that night so there’s no way to tell.

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