As always, Ms. Evelyn’s generous spirit and true love of humanity humbled Athen.
“I thought we should celebrate our good fortune in some special way,” Ms. Evelyn continued in her slow, precise voice. “That perhaps we as a city should unite to give thanks for the harvest we have been able to share. I was thinking a community day of prayer would be fitting, a day when the churches could unite in a common service of worship, perhaps to be held at the green. It seems right to give thanks in the midst of God’s bounty, don’t you think?”
“It’s a wonderful idea, Ms. Evelyn,” Athen readily agreed.
“It occurred to me that you, as mayor, as well as one who had volunteered her time to help with the project, might like to be a guest at the service.” Ms. Evelyn looked at Athen from across the big desk. Something seemed to play behind her eyes, giving Athen just a hint of speculation as to what, besides prayer, Ms. Evelyn might have in mind.
“I’m honored that you thought to include me,” Athen told her sincerely, “and I would be delighted to attend.”
“Wonderful.” Ms. Evelyn smiled. “Two p.m., the Sunday after next. Pray the weather holds. It so often turns cool at the end of October.”
She rose to leave and Athen walked her to the door.
“Do bring Callie,” Ms. Evelyn reminded her before she walked to the elevator and waved.
Something is afoot, Athen reflected as she opened the drapes to give full view to the lush green spot just three blocks from City Hall. The autumn sun danced off the trees that grew along the perimeter of Ms. Evelyn’s garden, the russets of the oaks and the yellows of the maples forming a brilliant outline along the back border. Athen thought back to the day she spent there early in the summer. It had been the best weekend she’d had in a very long time.
She tried her damnedest not to think about Quentin. She still could not look at him without feeling confused. He’d set in motion feelings she believed she’d never feel again, and then quietly walked away. He was gracious to her at the weekly press conferences, yet avoided speaking to her outside the conference room, other than once to mumble “great haircut” as he passed by. He avoided making eye contact with her, yet she could feel his eyes on her from the moment he entered the room until his speedy exit. There were times when she wished she could grab him by the collar, shake him silly, and yell, “What is wrong with you?”
But, of course, she never would, so they continued to meet once each week within the confines of a public press conference.
Secretly, their mutual professional and forced politeness drove her crazy. She wondered what he felt, what he was thinking as he watched her from his seat in the first row. This Quentin was new to her and she could not read him at all. He looked the same but the fire he’d once displayed was gone. He had even, on several occasions, uncharacteristically passed on opportunities to grill her on one topic or another, choosing instead to defer to another Herald reporter, and his news stories lacked his old spice. She wished he would talk to her, if only as a friend. She still missed him, even after all these months. His presence in her life felt much like an unfinished sonnet. She wished that someday they would have the chance to write the last verse.
“THESE ARE PERILOUS TIMES, FRIENDS, and we are in the midst of a perilous journey.” The Reverend Davison’s voice boomed across the immense crowd that gathered for the UCC’s Community Day of Prayer. “Mankind stands on the brink of the destruction of the spirit. Only by coming together in a common cause can we triumph over the forces of despair. The path before us is clear, sisters and brothers. We can, as a community, set in motion the means to care for those among us who, through no fault of their own, need a hand to help them along.”
Athen bit her bottom lip and arched her foot inside her shoe, trying to distract herself so that she would not openly grin.
Ms. Evelyn was, in fact, a genius.
She had personally visited every member of the city’s clergy to invite them to attend this event, and as a result, every church and synagogue in Woodside Heights was represented on the dais. As mayor, Athen had been seated in the first row. Next to her sat Riley Fallon and his new bride, Georgia, the Reverend Davison’s daughter. Clearly, the seating arrangement had been deliberate. As the Reverend Davison launched into his plea for community support of the UCC’s efforts on behalf of the homeless, he was backed on the platform by the mayor, a member of City Council, and every religious leader in the city.
Brilliant, Ms. Evelyn. Simply brilliant.
“… and so we ask you to support us as we strive to do His work, to feed the hungry in our midst, to shelter the homeless, to clothe those whom the bitter winds of the coming winter would chill.”
Looking out across the sea of faces, black and white, Hispanic and Asian, Greek and Italian, Irish and Polish, Athen knew that the battle would be won. Hundreds of people jammed the garden and spilled onto the adjacent street and sidewalk. She glanced sideways at Ms. Evelyn, seated at the end of the row, marveling that the spirit of this one small woman had proven to be greater than the forces of power that had opposed her for so long.
Athen’s eyes scanned the crowd for Dan Rossi, wondering what thoughts were going through his mind. She had not seen him arrive, but she knew he would be there. To have avoided the event would have been a political error he would never have made. The press had built the Day of Prayer into a happening that no one of standing within the community would have missed. Athen would bet her last dollar that before the day was over, Dan would have arranged to have his picture taken with Ms. Evelyn.
“… and just as our hard work has resulted in this beautiful garden wherein we now gather, so can we banish the blight from this city. Let us pray …”
As the closing prayer commenced, the clouds that had hidden the sun all afternoon shifted, allowing the warming light to cover the crowd. Athen suppressed a giggle. Only Ms. Evelyn could have arranged for so dramatic a touch to end the ceremonies.
Walking through the dispersing crowd, Athen realized that Callie was no longer at her side. Peering around, she saw her daughter walking toward the sidewalk with Diana. She headed in that direction, but found her way blocked by a solid form dressed in khaki pants and a brown tweed jacket.
“Hello, Athen.”
“Hello, Quentin.”
“Quite a gathering Ms. Evelyn put together,” he said.
“I doubt anyone else could have pulled it off.” She hoped he could not hear her sudden, erratic heartbeat.
“I guess she’ll get her shelter built,” he continued.
“I’d bet on it.”
They’d been walking slowly, small steps through the maze of people, neither paying attention to which way they were going. She realized they’d headed back to the garden, away from the sidewalk and Callie. Athen stopped, and so did he.
“Brenda tells me Meg will be home next week,” he said.
“Yes. Tuesday.” Her capacity for small talk had almost been reached. What was the point?
“Callie is doing exceptionally well with her riding, did Brenda tell you?” He still avoided her eyes.
“Yes, she did. It’s really wonderful of Brenda to pick her up on Saturdays and bring her home.”
“It’s not out of her way, and both Callie and Timmy really have a great time. They’ve become best friends, almost like sister and brother. You should come out to watch some afternoon. You’re always welcome.”
A tense silence began to build and she struggled with a response. The old Athen would have let it go.
The new Athen decided that she’d been polite long enough.
“I don’t feel welcome, Quentin. For some reason that I don’t quite understand, I seem to make you extremely uncomfortable. I can accept the fact that you don’t have any interest in dating me. But we’re both grown-ups, and given the fact that our children are such close friends, I can’t understand why we can’t be friends as well. This polite but distant attitude of yours is very annoying. Could we forget about everything el
se and just be friends?”
For the briefest of moments he permitted his eyes to meet hers before looking away. In those few seconds she saw a flash of longing so defined that her knees all but shook.
“I’m afraid it isn’t quite that simple, Athen,” he said softly.
“Quentin …” She laid a hand on his arm just as Callie grabbed her from behind.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Mom.” Callie tugged on Athen’s sleeve. “Oh, hi, Mr. Forbes.”
“Hello, Callie.”
“Can we go, please?” pleaded Callie. “I’m starving and I have a math test to study for.”
“I was just going to look for you.” Athen told her. She turned to Quentin. “It was good to see you. I’m sorry if I …”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He cut her off. “It was good to see you, too, Athen.”
“I don’t understand you, Quentin,” she said bluntly.
“I’m hoping someday you will.”
“You make me crazy,” she told him from between clenched jaws.
“Good,” he whispered. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.” He squeezed her elbow before turning and walking away.
IT HAD NOT TAKEN A political genius to figure out that at the following week’s Council meeting, a motion would be made to lease the houses on Fourth Street to the UCC. Although Wolmar and Giamboni voted against it, George Konstantos voted with Riley Fallon to hand the properties over. Athen cast the deciding vote, and the deed was done.
“This is your first victory since taking office. How do you think the opposition will react?” she was asked at the press conference that afternoon.
“First of all, I do not see it as a victory for anyone other than the people who have worked so hard and so long for this,” she said. “People like Ms. Evelyn Wallace, the Reverend Davison, and the other leaders of the UCC. It is their victory, not mine. And as far as the opposition is concerned, I would hope that Councilmen Wolmar and Giamboni would respect the wishes of the people of Woodside Heights. Though it’s beyond my comprehension why anyone would oppose such a worthy project, especially since it has the backing of the people in the community.”
“And Dan Rossi?’ A voice from the middle of the first row asked pointedly.
“Dan Rossi does not sit on Council, Mr. Forbes,” she reminded him.
“It is my understanding that after the first of the year, Mr. Rossi will announce that he will run in the primary,” he continued. “Since he has been an outspoken opponent of a shelter at that location, do you foresee any problems in getting the project off the ground before you leave office?”
“Do you mean will the shelter be open before my term expires?”
Quentin nodded.
“I have another year in office, Mr. Forbes. I cannot imagine that it would take a year to complete this.” She tapped her foot in agitation. “The fact that last month’s amendment moved the primary to May does not affect this project. I fully expect the shelter to be open well before next November.”
“Then you are conceding that you will not run against former Mayor Rossi in the primary?” Dave Higgins from one of the local network affiliates asked her, as the TV camera lights flashed sharply.
“I never intended to seek reelection, Mr. Higgins,” she told him bluntly.
“But if the shelter was delayed,” he persisted, “or in jeopardy between now and May, would you consider …”
“The shelter will not be delayed in any way.” She cut him off, seeing the line of questioning beginning to drift to waters she had no interest in treading. “There are plans in place to move this forward as quickly as possible. Perhaps Councilman Fallon would be good enough to fill you in on the timetable.”
Quentin hung back at the end of the conference, and edged toward her. “Congratulations, Athen.”
She had watched him out of the corner of one eye, wondering if today he would elect not to make his usual dash for the door. She was pleased to see that he was slowly gathering his things, seeming to time himself so that they would be heading for the door at the same time.
“Congratulate Riley. Or better still, Ms. Evelyn. She’s the one who made this happen.”
“You cast the deciding vote,” he reminded her.
“I was happy to do it, I assure you.”
“Do you really think Dan will let this happen?” They moved into the hallway.
“I can’t see how he can stop it,” she told him confidently. “What could he possibly do?”
“It just isn’t in his nature to back off graciously.” His leather binder began to slip forward from his grasp. She reached out and caught it before it could fall. Their fingers touched, and they stood frozen for a moment, politics and old hurts briefly forgotten. A current passed from one to the other and back again.
For a moment she forgot that she was the elected mayor of the city and that she was in the middle of a hallway at City Hall jammed with reporters. Their fingers instinctively entwined, and neither made an effort to disengage from this small, unexpected connection. When she met his eyes, he did not avert his gaze as had become his habit.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Moran.” The photographer from the Woodside Herald approached her from behind. Quentin juggled his binder up under his arm and the spell was broken, their fingers sliding apart. “We’d like a picture with you and Councilmen Fallon and Konstantos.”
Athen turned to the camera, smiling as she stood between the two councilmen. When she turned back, Quentin was gone.
26
Good Lord, Meg, the only thing I’ve ever worn that was cut this low was a nightgown.”
Athen stood in the dressing room of the upscale boutique Meg had dragged her to, and tugged at the front of the gown the saleswoman had brought her.
“Leave it alone.” Meg slapped at Athen’s fingers. “You’re throwing off the lines of the dress.”
Meg stood back to assess the fit. “It’s perfect, Thena. Gorgeous. The color is perfect. The dress is perfect. Oh, and with your mother’s garnet necklace …”
“I don’t know, Meg.” Athen shook her head uncertainly. “It shows a lot of skin.”
“Yes, it does. But it shows it so well.”
“Would you wear this in public?”
“If I were tall and built like you? In a heartbeat. I hate to sound corny, but you do, in fact, look like a Greek goddess.”
Athen anxiously studied her reflection in the dressing-room mirror. The dress was beautiful, she admitted. The softest shade of red wine velvet, it had wide shoulder straps and just skimmed her body all the way to the floor. Melina’s garnets would be spectacular. Athen looked back at Meg, still undecided.
“I’m not used to being this dressed up.”
“Look, this will be a very fancy party. Hughes has invited everyone he knows to this bash to celebrate the kickoff of his newest venture. People from the entertainment world, businesspeople, politicians from every state,” Meg reminded her. “Everyone will be dressed up. You want to look spectacular, and in that dress you do.”
“Which dress have you decided on?” Athen asked her.
“I think the cream lace over satin number.”
“Go put it on and let me see.” Athen shoved Meg through the dressing-room door.
Athen reached behind her to pull the zipper down and caught her reflection in the mirror, then turned and looked at herself from all directions. The dress was more beguiling than overtly sexy, she decided. Maybe she should throw caution to the wind and go for it.
“What the hell.” She shrugged and hung the dress on its padded hanger.
When the saleswoman peeked back into the dressing room, Athen handed her the dress, and said, “I’ll take it.”
“FOR PITY’S SAKE, ATHEN, GET that finger out of your mouth and stop biting your nails. You’ll ruin your manicure.” Meg stretched to fasten the wide gold strand of garnets around Athen’s neck.
“I’m nervous.”
“Get over it.�
� Meg popped earrings into her own lobes and checked the mirror to make sure they were straight. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear these, they always turn around. What do you think?”
“I like the pearls better.” Athen handed Meg the box holding the pearl earrings.
“You’re right.” Meg slipped the gold earrings out and replaced them. “They look better with my hair back. Will you please get that glum look off your face?”
“What if he ignores me?” Athen tapped her fingers on the dresser top.
“How could he ignore you?” Meg shook her head, exasperated. “You look spectacular. If I could look like you for just one week of my life, I’d die a happy woman. Now come on. If we leave now, we can make an entrance.”
“Oh, God, Meg.” Athen rolled her eyes to the ceiling and Meg laughed.
“Leave the dress alone,” Meg commanded as she pushed Athen toward the step. “That dress is precisely the reason God invented cleavage. Now, put on your wrap and walk your little butt downstairs. The car will be here any second. You just sit back and compose yourself. I have a feeling this will be a night to remember.”
THE CHAPMAN MANSION WAS DECKED from top to bottom for the holidays. White Christmas lights illuminated every tree lining the drive and defined each window and doorway of the immense house. The illusion was, Meg noted dryly, of a crystal palace, plucked from the pages of a children’s fairy tale and dropped into the upper regions of northern New Jersey.
A Different Light Page 31
