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Nic Dungy, and I’m here on behalf of Pastor Cole’s last request.”
    Elisha remains stoic. I mean, the news did have an impact, but not much. Maybe I’m expecting a little more from a girl who just lost her father. Regardless of how strained the relationship was between the two, Pastor Cole was still her father. Elisha took another moment to size me up. I can tell that she isn’t sure if I’m someone that she can trust.
    â€œCome on in,” Elisha says and opens the door.
    If no one told me that Elisha is Pastor Cole’s daughter, I wouldn’t have guessed. There is a case that could be made for the full lips and nose that resembles Cole’s, but even her complexion is a shade darker than the coffee skin of Cole.
    I enter the home, and Elisha makes a beeline to the kitchen. The living room is full of family portraits. Pastor Cole is missing from all of them, of course. It’s safe to assume that Elisha must’ve had her name changed to her mother’s last name.
    It’s a full-time job covering up the past. Who knows what else Pastor Cole kept from the public’s eye? I wonder what was Pastor Cole hiding that cost him his life.
    These pictures can’t answer those questions for me. I suspect that if there are any pictures of Elisha with Cole, those pictures are hidden from plain sight. There are a list of accomplishments that stop with Elisha graduating from Florida A&M. Her accomplishments tell a story that Pastor Cole’s influence and money had a hand in telling.
    â€œHere you go,” Elisha comes back into the living room with a glass of lemonade.
    â€œThank you.” I’m not much of a lemonade drinker. I prefer ice tea, but it is rare to meet a girl like Elisha who still has manners. We sit down on a couch.
    â€œSo you knew my father?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t. I met him a couple of times, but that was it.” I took a sip of the lemonade and set it down on the coffee table in front of me. Not bad, a little too tart, but for someone who used to drink Jack Daniels for breakfast, I can manage.
    â€œYou must have a high opinion of him to be here on his behalf.”
    â€œNot really,” I say without any hesitation.
    â€œNeither did I; at least you’re honest. So why are you here?”
    I have forgotten that there is an envelope inside my jacket pocket. I reach in and hand it over to Elisha. Elisha doesn’t waste any time opening it. She scans the letter and the check that is attached. I expect to see a smile on her face; instead, she looks perplexed. Elisha’s perplexity morphs into anger without warning.
    â€œIs this a joke?” Elisha turns the check around and shows me a payment made out to her for $1 million.
    I swallow wrong, and the tartness of the lemonade makes me pay for it. I cough several times before I regain my faculties. “Excuse me?”
    â€œThis is only half of what I was promised. Where is the rest?”
    I’m floored at this point, because I made it a rule not to enter a room uninformed, and I must be the smartest person in the room. I allowed Pastor Bryant to let me walk into a room where I am short on both, and now I need to try to grasp the gravity of the situation.
    â€œLet’s relax and calm down. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this.”
    â€œUnless you have another check on you for $1 million, there is nothing to explain. All I need you to do is go and get me my money.” Elisha cocks her head to the side.
    The island hospitality has left, and I’m still spinning my wheels. I took another sip of my lemonade before I set it down again and squared up with Elisha.
    â€œIt’s good to see that you are taking your father’s death real hard.”
    â€œDo you see any father-of-the-year trophies around here? His money and his time were all that was ever worth anything to me.”
    â€œOkay, let’s be honest here. What do you expect to