Lexi turns toward me. “What made you want to go into fashion design?”
I give her my standard answer. “Clothing is an expression of people’s personalities and designers can help draw those nuances to the person’s exterior.” It sounds pretty and most people are impressed, even my advisor. But the fact is that it’s a lie.
I’ve given the explanation so many times I’ve begun to believe it myself, but after my conversation with my mother, my entire world seems to have shifted off center. Not enough to shake up my life, but enough to throw everything off.
“People actually believe that?” Reed asks.
“Reed!” Lexi’s voice is harsher than I’ve heard from her, but Reed doesn’t seem to notice.
My shoulders straighten and I look into the rearview mirror so I can see his face, even if he’s not looking up. “And what do you have trouble with, Mr. Pendergraft?”
“Draw nuances of a person’s personality to their exterior ? It sounds like something you’d find on a freshman college entrance essay.”
“What? And I’m sure you have some perfectly logical reason as to why you want to get a graduate degree in mathematics?”
“Of course, I do.”
“And it is…?” I lift my eyebrows and glare into the mirror.
Reed’s gaze lifts and I lock eyes with his in the reflection.
His focus returns to the road. “I like the logic of math, and I think the world needs more logic instead of fluff answers such as drawing nuances of a person’s personality.”
I’m surprised I’m not hurt by his rude behavior, but I’m too furious for hurt feelings to rise to the surface. “The world needs more beauty and kindness, not rude behavior thinly disguised as logic.”
Lexi’s face pales and I’m sure she regrets bringing me along.
Strangely enough, Reed remains quiet for the next few minutes until he pulls into a small parking lot in front of a series of houses that are painted the same dark tan with black shutters. Yellow chrysanthemums fill neatly tended flowerbeds in front of the houses. A sign in the yard reads: Middle Tennessee Children’s Charity.
Reed wastes no time parking and jumping out of the car before Lexi and I get our doors open.
Not that I’m in any hurry to get out. I need to pull myself together before I go inside and meet the director.
Lexi senses my hesitation. My hand stretches across the cracked leather of the backseat and Lexi’s hand covers mine. “I’m sorry. I know he can be rude, but he’s not usually this bad.” She sighs.
“You seem to bring out the worst in him.”
I laugh, but it’s more of a snort. “Lucky me.”
“I’m sorry.”
I pull my hand out from underneath hers. “Stop saying you’re sorry. He’s the ass. How does that make you responsible?”
She wrings her hands in her lap. “I invited you … and he came….”
“Lexi, stop. I was happy you invited me. Now let’s go inside.”
I’m not really ready to go in, but what I need is a few minutes to myself, and that isn’t happening.
I push my door open.
I refuse to let Reed ruin this for me. When Lexi first asked me to come, I hesitated because of the painful reminder of my past. But my phone call with my mother yesterday made me realize there are other children like me. Children determined to escape their beginnings and make something of themselves. If I can be part of something that gives them the courage to do that, then I need to take it.
Reed holds the door open, wearing the same stuffy expression he wears when he conducts our committee meetings. He ignores me as I brush past him, and I’m thankful. Telling him off in front of the charity’s director would likely be frowned upon.
The walls of the entry and long hall leading to the back of the house are covered in photographs, but before I have a chance to examine them, a woman emerges from a doorway off the hall.
Lexi takes a step forward and offers her hand. “I’m Lexi Pendergraft. I have an appointment to see Ms. Marshall.”
The woman smiles and shakes hands. “That’s me, but everyone calls me Evelyn.”
Lexi turns to the side and gestures toward us. “This is Caroline Hunter and Reed … Pendergraft.
They’re both on the committee.”
Lexi may be a bubbly college sophomore on campus, but at this moment she’s in full-on business mode. She speaks with an air of confidence that some thirty-year-olds don’t possess.
Evelyn shakes our hands. “Pleased to meet you both. Why don’t we go into my office?”
We follow her into a room that looks like it was once a dining room. Her wooden desk is at an angle and clutter-free. Photographs of children cover the walls. Two chairs sit in front of her desk, and an overstuffed chair takes up the far corner of the room. Lexi sits in front of the desk, and I hesitate. Reed stands by the door and gestures to the chair next to Lexi with a sardonic smile.
Evelyn and Reed take their seats and Evelyn rests her forearms on the desk and leans forward.
“We’re honored the Monroe Foundation chose to donate to our organization.”
The photos on the wall drag my eyes like magnets. Some are of children on a playset. Others are of children bent over homework or reading books.
I expect Reed to answer and take charge like he does in our committee meetings, but he sits back and crosses his legs. Lexi lifts her chin as she asks Evelyn, “What is the greatest challenge your nonprofit faces right now?”