"I don't want your future hanging on a piece of paper that somebody may not know how to handle," he told Miles. "You're a child. We'll do this properly, through adults who are responsible for you and a trust that protects what is yours."
Miles looked bewildered. "Are you angry because I didn't take it?"
Hamilton's face changed. "No, Miles," he said. "I'm ashamed that I thought handing you money would be the easiest part. I don't want the easiest part anymore. I want to do the right part."
At a little after nine, Hamilton began making calls while the paramedics arranged his evaluation and Victoria remained beside the boy. The first was to Andrew, an administrator he knew at Friends Select School. Hamilton asked about a Monday meeting, a long-term scholarship, and how the school might evaluate a gifted student whose records were incomplete. Andrew asked careful questions and agreed to speak with the appropriate enrollment staff rather than promise an instant admission.
The second call went to Sarah, a property manager responsible for several of Hamilton's buildings. He asked whether unit 8B at the Spruce Street building could be prepared as a warm, furnished place for a child and an approved caregiver. Sarah told him furniture could be arranged, food could be delivered, and the apartment could be made ready quickly. She also reminded him that a nine-year-old could not simply be left there alone because a wealthy stranger said he was safe.
"Then find out what the city needs from us," Hamilton said. "Work with the social worker, not around her. I don't want to promise this child a home and discover tomorrow that we forgot the most important person in the arrangement."
His third call was to Jim, the attorney who handled his estate and philanthropic trusts. Hamilton instructed him to prepare a proposal for a two-million-dollar education trust, with responsible oversight, appropriate protections, and money available for school, college, professional training, and living needs. He did not ask for a loophole that would give him control over the child. He asked for a structure that could survive changes in his own life.
By the time he ended the call, Miles was sitting beside Victoria with a bowl of soup. He had eaten half of it slowly, as though taking large mouthfuls might make the food disappear. Hamilton watched the boy set his spoon down each time someone spoke to him, giving the speaker his complete attention. The sight stirred a memory he had spent most of his adult life trying to keep out of view.
"Miles," he said, "there's something about my father I should tell you."
Hamilton took several seconds before he could begin. His guests had known him for years, but most of them had heard very little about the man who raised him. Gregory preferred stories about his first real-estate deal, the warehouse he purchased when everyone said it would fail, and the risks he took after other people refused to lend him money. He rarely talked about the years before any of that happened.