Threads of Hope: Quilts of Love Series (15 page)

“Just hanging up with Peyton when you beeped in. You’re starting early today. Where to?”

“Outside of Houston. A clinic in Cypress. First time there, so I wanted to give myself some extra time.”

“Smart move. Have some good books on your iPod? Between the distance and the traffic, you might get in one or two today. People tell you Cypress is outside of Houston, but it’s going to feel like you hit the outskirts of Austin. So don’t panic, unless you find yourself actually in Austin . . .”

“Guess I should have packed two lunches. I’ll call Paloma and warn her not to hold supper, bath, or bedtime.”

“Do you need me to do that for you?”

“No. Wait. Okay I got it. I got it.” Greg said as if speaking to someone who doubted his sincerity.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, the GPS chick thought I wasn’t changing lanes. Anyway, I don’t need you to call the nanny, but I do have a favor to ask,” Greg said as he focused on the exit signs that were like huge shiny green tabs on a wide concrete tablet.

“I’m almost to my office. Want me to call you back?”

“I’ll talk fast because I need you to know this before you get there. And try not to ask too many questions. I’ll explain when I have more time.” He told her about the quilt delivery to Nina, but he didn’t want Elise to mention it unless Nina did.

“And why did you feel compelled to purchase this and send it to her?”

Elise’s voice put its mom-clothes on, but Greg understood that she didn’t know about Nina losing out on the bidding process, which he then explained. “If she does bring up my name, which is highly unlikely after Saturday night, please don’t say anything about Jazarah or Lily.”

“Strange request. You don’t want her to know you’re a single father of an HIV-positive child from Ethiopia and your wife died in a car accident caused by a drunk driver? Any particular one or all of those?”

Listening to his sister roll out his life that way, it sounded like a script from a sappy daytime drama.
If only it had been. I could have rewritten the script
. “I’m not trying to keep any of that a secret. Don’t be dishonest if she asks questions. Which I know you wouldn’t be, which is precisely why I wanted to talk to you. I just have to work some things out, and I don’t want her to make decisions based on pity.”

“All of this from a misunderstanding at the benefit?”

“Unfortunately, no. It goes back a long way. But that’s something I’ll have to tell you later.”

“How much later? Never mind. I just pulled into the garage. I’ll text you as the day goes on. And Greg . . . I know you wouldn’t ask all this if you didn’t have good reason. I trust you.”

“Thanks, Elise,” he said, relieved that she would back him and that he spotted the exit for 290.

Now if he could just convince Nina to trust him.

When Nina walked back into the office after moving the quilt to her car, Michelle was on the phone. She looked up when Nina passed, nodded, but her smile looked like one she’d worn the night before and forgot to take off. If she’d been Michelle, she would have picked up the phone and pretended to be on a call just to avoid a conversation. It occurred to Nina that perhaps the reason she didn’t trust other people or their feelings was her assumption they might be acting out of the same motives she would. And since, most of the time, her feelings were such a cosmic mess, she barely trusted them herself.

Nina might have pondered that longer if not for two distractions. An email from Elise asking to see her, and a message from Greg Hernandez. Was her morning starting with sibling rivalry or was this a cooperative attack? She needed a strategy and decided her best course of action was to see Elise first. If she spoke to Greg first, and the conversation crashed and burned, which she expected, then Greg might have time to relay that to his sister before Nina saw her. Then again, she had to ask herself if they would actually behave this way or
was she, once again, presuming how they would act based on what she would do?

She had fifteen minutes before her appointment with Elise, so she opened her iPad and typed her pitch about the AIDS Quilt feature and facts about it that she thought would heighten its appeal. Nina checked the archives of
Trends
for any features similar to the one she wanted to write. With the exception of an article over seven years ago about an eighty-panel display at Rice University, there was nothing that would make the feature a recycle. She’d need a photographer, but Elise would have to make the call on that. No telling where Brady might be, especially in the next few weeks. He didn’t seem to know where he’d be in the next few days.

Nina checked the time, examined the front of her black and white color-blocked dress for coffee spots, and applied sheer gloss to her lips. She looked over at Daisy’s desk, and her stomach still hit her emotional bottom floor with an elevator-like thud. After hearing Brady talk about her being in New York with Janie, Nina suspected that thud might be permanent.

Before she saw Elise, she needed to find Shannon. She’d emailed the intern a list of questions, and she wanted to discuss the possibility of Shannon joining her on some of the interviews and possibly going to some of the quilter’s meetings on her own. Nina walked around the office, but Shannon wasn’t at her desk. She left a “please see me” sticky note on the intern’s computer monitor, and entered a reminder in her iPad calendar to ask Shannon for her cell number.

Nina walked to the elevators, pressed the button, and almost went into cardiac arrest when someone suddenly came up behind her, squeezed her shoulders, and said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

One yelp later, she whipped around to find Brady standing behind her.

“If you weren’t so tall, and if I didn’t value my iPad so much, I’d whack you on the head so hard, you’d be looking up at me when I was finished.”

Brady laughed. “I wanted to surprise you. Obviously, I succeeded.”

“That was not surprise you heard. That was fright. What are you now, twelve? Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone?” She pressed the button again and hoped he thought the warmth that she was sure flushed her skin signaled irritation not infatuation.

“I wasn’t stalking you,” he said and grinned.

The grin that, if Nina had been butter, would’ve melted her onto the floor. She stared at the doors to avoid eye contact.

“I just walked in, needed to go upstairs, and saw you waiting . . . it seemed amusing when I thought of it.”

“Whatever. I think an alien child is overtaking your body.” The elevator doors yawned opened, and Nina stepped to the side to let Brady on first. No more blindsiding. “Why are you here anyway?”

“New dress? It fits you well.”

Nina was relieved his eyes weren’t hands. “Not new, and thank you. But you didn’t answer my question about your reason for coming in today.”

The door opened on Elise’s floor and Brady exited with her. He pointed in the direction opposite from where she was going. “Human Resources. I have an appointment to discuss some matters there.”

She didn’t have time to ask for details, but she was beginning to realize the less she knew, the better. Brady seemed like a human boomerang lately. Every time she thought he’d be away for good, he returned.

“Good luck. I’m off to see the Dragon Lady.”

She’d taken about four steps when Brady said, “Nina, wait.”

Nina tapped her watch. “Can’t be late. What’s up and hurry?”

“How about dinner tonight?”

She thought about wanting to return that quilt to Greg. Or at least pay him for it. Nina considered the possibility of Brady being hungry for more than food, and the fact that she might welcome being on the menu. She mentally duct-taped the voice of impulsiveness and answered, “I don’t think tonight will work.”

Disappointment replaced the invitation in his eyes. “No problem. I’ll call later. You can tell me about your visit,” he said, pointed in the direction of Elise’s office, and walked down the hall.

Why would he think I’d be sharing information about an appointment with Elise?
Brady acted as if his relationship with Janie was a wrinkle in time, and he’d simply stepped over it and back to her.

Those strange variables in the math equation that was Brady continued to increase.

Before Nina had an opportunity to dazzle Elise with her feature pitch, Elise announced that she officially released her from the bondage of human-interest stories.

“Daisy will be returning next week, and she can write the benefit follow-up.” Elise scribbled something in her desk planner, and added, “When I talked to her this morning, she mentioned that it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of The AIDS Memorial Quilt, which would make a great sidebar story.” She leaned back in her chair, tapped her pen against her hand, and stared out the window. “Probably a story all its own.”

Anxiety fluttered over Nina like a sheet, and if she didn’t move quickly, it would smother the very reason she wanted to see Elise. She clenched her iPad to avoid wringing the sweat out of her hands. She wanted to know why Daisy gave up New York or gave up on it, but that didn’t matter now. Nina sensed Elise’s interest in this story and, if it was important to her, then it was important to Nina. “I have a better one,” she blurted.

The pen stopped tapping, and Elise turned her chair to face Nina. “A better what?”

She flipped open her iPad. Seeing her notes settled her and sent the anxiety drifting to the floor. “A better idea for the benefit and AIDS Memorial Quilt. A feature series.”

Elise leaned forward. “I thought you liked the hard-hitting, down-and-dirty news stories. This one could easily go to Daisy. I’m curious as to why you want it.”

Nina knew the buy-in had to happen here, and it certainly couldn’t be based on the means to the end pitch she gave Aretha. She had to convince Elise she had a stake in the story.

“Not everyone in Houston could attend the benefit, but we could bring the benefit to them. The story isn’t the gala or even the Memorial Quilt itself because it’s been around for a quarter of a century. The people are the story. The people behind all those quilts hanging on the walls that night. Every one of those quilts is a story, just like every panel of the Memorial Quilt represents someone. When we give AIDS a face, or in this case,
faces
, then contributing to or participating in the benefit isn’t just about the quilts people can buy there. It’s about the power of support and community giving people a way to work through their grief to create something of beauty that can honor those they love.” Nina stopped because, though Elise nodded as she spoke and seemed focused, there would be no point in explaining more if she didn’t approve.

“That’s quite a passionate pitch. So, how would you make that happen?”

“My idea is to attend the support group meetings, follow a quilt from its inception to the final stitch. A different person in the group would be highlighted in each feature, with their permission, of course. The last feature would highlight The AIDS Memorial Quilt. We could go to D.C., and maybe some of the quilters could make the trip as well. In fact, with each story we could include the directions for making a panel and invite our readers to participate. They could form their own
groups or just send the panels to us, and we could deliver them to Washington.”

Elise walked over to the window of her office.

Nina waited. The quiet clanged in her head, but she knew if she didn’t outwait Elise, she’d start babbling. She didn’t want to beg for the story. Though she would if it came to that. She occupied herself counting the number of roses in the vase on Elise’s desk, the number of pictures on the shelf to the right of her desk, and she was about to start counting the books when Elise broke the silence.

Still standing with her back to Nina, looking out the window, she said, “And you’re sure you can do this?”

Inside herself, Nina jumped up and clapped. The outside Nina, firmly and clearly responded, “Yes, Elise. I can do this.”

“Okay, then,” said Elise as she returned to her desk. “Let’s talk about the publication schedule, and we’ll take it from there.”

Almost two hours later, Nina didn’t see any signs of Brady when she left Elise’s office. She had a text message from Shannon asking if they could meet in the morning, and one from Aretha that she was meeting Luke for dinner. Three consecutive days? Did he not have enough detective work to keep himself busy? Maybe she should have accepted that invitation from Brady because it was about to turn into a drive-through fast food or pizza delivery night. She scrolled through her messages and saw a few numbers she didn’t recognize that she’d have to check against her contact list that could be callbacks for her political story.

She opened her iPad and glanced at the pitch she had prepared for Elise. With the exception of the first sentence, nothing she said to Elise came from the original pitch she’d written. Looking at those words now, they seemed hollow, commercial. How did she manage to summon such passion
for this feature? Wherever it came from, it rang true enough to Elise. And that was enough for Nina.