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wearing a dark suit and a bowtie sat, nodding and punching the air. “And thank you to Benjamin for the sparkling introduction.”  
    The man beamed and nodded at him.  
    “Everything he said was a damn worn-out lie, of course, but thank you anyway.” Fitch made an elegant bow as the hall burst out laughing.
    Anderson Fitch scanned the excited crowd. He held on to the front of his jacket while he spoke, rocking back on his heels. “A famous man once said that the meek shall inherit the earth, but not the mineral rights.”
    The crowd laughed and clapped.  
    “Ladies and gentlemen, it is the ultimate honor to be awarded the Texas Businessman of the Year award.” He leaned forward over the podium and shook his finger at the crowd. “I won’t say I don’t deserve it, because I do.”  
    The crowd whooped. Fitch winked, tipping his Stetson at the people.
    “For years I have been building my business and, along the way, helping those struggling to survive. I’ve invested in charities and funded libraries and schools.”
    He nodded and glanced sideways at Benjamin.
    “Bennie asked me to elucidate you good folks on the secret to my success.” He looked around the room and smiled. “I put it down to one thing,” he said holding up his index finger. “Integrity.” He shook his finger and let the words sink in.
    “Integrity in all my daily business deals. Integrity in my relationships. I want to go to bed at night knowing I didn’t screw anyone out of anything today.”
    The crowd clapped, and he smiled at the people, making eye contact with the men and women seated in front. He gripped the front of his jacket with both his hands and twiddled his thumbs, waiting for the applause to die down.
    “My advice to any up-and-coming businessman or woman is this.” He held up his index finger again. “One, be honest in everything you do. You can fix a lot of screw-ups you create, but you can never fix a tarnished name.”  
    He held up a second finger. “Two, learn to give more than you’re willing to receive. The more you give, the more you will receive.” He shrugged. “It’s a universal law.
    “And three, pay your taxes. Those bastards will always get you.”
    The crowd laughed and rose to their feet, clapping. Anderson Fitch grinned and acknowledged the applause. He bowed and waved a final good-bye. He was escorted down the stairs by a large black man. Reporters shoved microphones into his face as cameramen jostled for position.
    He smiled at a blonde reporter as he walked to his table. She thrust a microphone with a CNN logo at his face, trying her best to get her voice heard over the din. “Mr. Fitch, Mr. Fitch. Is it true you’re constructing a refinery in China? What would the political implications be?”  
    Fitch stopped and faced her. “Maggie, I’m a businessman, not a politician. China is the second largest consumer of oil in the world.” He shrugged. “Don’t you think it would be pertinent to serve a well-paying customer?”
    The woman pushed the microphone closer. “Yes, but shouldn’t you be focusing your efforts closer to home? What about supporting your loyal American consumers? Employing more people?”
    Fitch smiled. “Maggie, refineries are not labor-intensive operations. Isn’t our good president always saying we should decrease the budget deficit?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled at the other reporters. “Raise taxes? Take more from the rich and give to the poor?”  
    He waited for a moment as the questions died down. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m bringing foreign spending into the States with a product that I’m sourcing from a third party. Last year, Refatex paid more than $800 million in taxes.”
    The reporter tried to ask another question, but Fitch said, “Phone me, let’s set up something formal.” He winked, and the woman nodded gratefully.  
    Fitch nodded curtly and strolled toward a table at the front of the large hall. He greeted the people