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“Will do. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s all. Please leave the door open on your way out.”
Brianna had asked for a meeting this morning, and now Sloane pressed her extension. “Brianna. Good morning. Are you free to meet now?”
Within minutes the older woman rolled into Sloane’s office in her wheelchair, a stack of paperwork in her lap.
Brianna Rifkin had been at the foundation for the last ten years. Sloane had come to know her and her story during the three months Brianna had stayed in one of the foundation’s domestic violence shelters all those years ago. She’d seemed to be gaining so much strength and confidence that Sloane was beside herself when Brianna announced she was going back to her abusive husband, who had apologized for the beatings—crying and promising that it would never happen again. Sloane had tried to talk her out of it, but when she saw that it was useless, she’d given Brianna her direct phone line and told her to call anytime, day or night, if she was in trouble.
Just two days later, a frantic phone call came while she was at the office. The beating had been especially vicious, and Brianna was hysterical, sobbing into the phone and trying to speak, cowering in the bathroom behind a locked door with her husband raging on the other side. Sloane ran to her car, dialing 911 as she left. By the time the police and Sloane got to the house, Brianna’s husbandhad broken down the bathroom door and shot her as she tried to get away from him. The bullet lodged in her spine, paralyzing her from the waist down. When Robert found out what had happened, he was furious with Sloane for putting herself in such a dangerous situation, but she’d told him he had to accept the fact that she’d never refuse any woman’s call for help. That was behind them now, and Brianna had become a valued member of the team, going back to school and eventually earning her degree in accounting.
“Why don’t you bring me up to date?” Sloane said, eyeing the stack of folders Brianna held.
“The groundbreaking for the women’s shelter in Philadelphia is in two weeks. They’re estimating it should be operational within six months.” She placed a paper in front of Sloane. “If you can sign this, I’ll release the first portion of funding this morning.”
“Wonderful. I’m happy to hear everything is on track.”
“I’ve gone through the most recent grant applications and have made my notes. I’ll leave them for you to review, and you can let me know which you want to be sent to the committee for voting.”
For the next thirty minutes, the two women went over everything item by item until they were finished.
“We’re looking good, Sloane,” Brianna said, closing the last folder. “Even better than last year.”
The rest of the morning seemed to fly by. Sloane was reading a grant request when Miles popped his head into her office and said, “It’s twelve fifteen. You remember you have a one o’clock lunch date with Camille, right?”
“Oh my gosh, I completely lost track of time. Thanks, Miles.” She gathered up the file and put it away, then sat for a moment, picking up the old photograph once again, her eyes resting on the image of her late husband. She swallowed the lump in her throat, put the photo down, and, straightening her shoulders, left the building.
—
Twenty minutes later, Sloane pulled into the parking garage on F Street, still lost in thought as she maneuvered into the spot she’d reserved ahead. Despite the short walk from the garage to the Old Ebbitt Grill, where she was meeting Camille for lunch, the sleeveless linen sheath she wore was inadequate on this unusually chilly September day. She picked up her step, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in her hip, but looking forward to spending time with her dear friend, hoping Camille might intervene on Sloane’s behalf with Rosemary. She understood how hard it must be for her former mother-in-law to see her with someone other than her son, but as Whit often reminded her, Robert wouldn’t have wanted Sloane to be alone for the rest of her life. Surely Camille could help Rosemary understand that.
Sloane deliberately arrived a little before their reservation time, hoping for once to get there before Camille, who was always early. As the hostess led her to the table, Sloane shook her head when she saw that Camille was already seated, her blond hair loose and wavy. Her stunning Thai silk skirt and jacket of bright turquoise looked great, Sloane thought as the slim woman rose to embrace her.
“So happy we’ve finally found time for lunch,” Camille said, smiling at her.
“Me too. Between the two of us, our schedules are so hectic.”
Camille’s job at USAID took her to countries around the world on assignment, and she’d been gone off and on the better part of the past year. Her travels were the genesis of her exotic wardrobe, and she often brought back something unique for Sloane and Emmy. When Robert was alive, Sloane and Camille carved out a week each year for what they called their girls’ trip. They took turns choosing the location, with the only rule being it had to be somewhere neither of them had been before. “We need to start our trips again,” Sloane said as she took a seat.
“I think it’s my turn to choose,” Camille said, a sparkle in her eye.
“Maybe we can finally do the hiking trip we keep talking about, now that I’ve got my hip replacement scheduled.”
“I’m so glad you’re finally taking care of that. Is Emmy going to come stay and help you afterward?”
Sloane shook her head. “No, I’ve already put a call in to a care agency your mother recommended. I won’t be able to drive for six weeks and will need physical therapy. Emmy can’t take that much time off from work, and I don’t want her to. This way someone can ferry me around and help with some of my admin duties at the foundation. Help me cut my workday down a bit.”
The server appeared at their table, and Sloane ordered a glass of iced tea. When it arrived, she clinked her glass against Camille’s.
“Cheers.” She took a long sip, feeling herself relax.
“How’s Emmy doing in her new position?” Camille asked.
“She loves it and is really enjoying California. I was hoping one day she’d take over the foundation, but obviously I want her to follow her passion.”
Camille arched an eyebrow. “You’re too young to be thinking about who’s going to take over. You mentioned that you met with a new donor last week. How did it go?”
This was Sloane’s opening, and she took it. “Great. It was Whit’s doing. Congressman Horner made a significant contribution. Whit has drummed up quite a bit of support. He’s really gone above and beyond. So…” She took a sip of her iced tea. “What do you think about asking him to join the board?”