I ALMOST PASS OUT WHEN Greg Fielding hands me a check for $5 million.
I’m so stunned I don’t even mind that I’m once again in Martin’s helicopter, flying away from one of the strangest luncheons I’ve ever attended.
“I can’t tell y’all how sorry I am,” Martin says sorrowfully.
“Marty, Tom still got the donation for a center,” Mae says.
“But what they said about you—how they treated everyone. I should have known better. Greg was always a prick in medical school. Still don’t know why I’ve remained friends with him all these years.”
“Mae’s right, Martin,” I say. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve got the donation. This is enough to really get work on the center rolling. With this, we’ll have no problem opening next fall.”
“That’s wonderful, Tom,” Helen says, kissing me on the cheek.
“You don’t h
