The aroma of delicious fresh coffee filled the air as he opened his briefcase to remove his notes. “You sure you want to hear this?” he said.
“Of course!” She sat cross-legged in the corner of the hunter green sectional and awaited the presentation.
Before beginning, Nick described how the room would be set up—large screens in the corners on each side of the stage in the ballroom—a dinner that would serve over eight hundred people from all over the world. Translators would be present, he told her, although many of the guests would speak English. A lectern would sit in the center of the stage. All lights would be dimmed, except the one over the lectern.
“That’s where I’ll be standing while the screens display pictures of St. Theresa’s, logos of the Kristen Foundation, a picture of Wall, you—”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“Hope it’s a good one.”
“Only the best. And it starts out something like this: Thank you, Robert.” He stopped and looked at Shelly. “That’s Robert Smith, the guy who took over the Association for Dad. Unfortunately, his wife has pancreatic cancer, and she isn’t doing well. We’re hoping she’ll make it through next week.”
“Sad,” Shelly said. She sat up and leaned forward.
“Anyway, I thank him for the opportunity to address the convention, and then go into my story of growing up around them.”
Nick spoke with passion as Shelly sat listening. She saved her observations, which were few, for the end. She reminded him that even if it didn’t go over this time, it might work someday. She assured him he’d written a brilliant speech. He took all her comments in stride.
When she finished her comments he glanced at his watch. It was after midnight.
“I better go,” he said, “Thanks for listening.” He gathered his
notes and tossed them into his trusty black briefcase.
She followed him to the door. He turned. Their eyes met. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in to brush a kiss across her