somebody moving around. What in the world are you doing here so early?” Betsy shuffled into the room, still dressed in her nightgown and robe.
“I had a lot I wanted to get out of the way before everyone was up and about.”
“Mmm. It must have kept you up last night to get you in here this early.” She yawned. “Anything I can help you with?”
“No. But I just want to let you know that the producer will be here today to take a tour of the building.”
Betsy straightened, fully awake. “Why didn’t you say so? I got to get these lazy girls up and together. Make sure their apartments are up to par. You know how they can leave their places sometime when they run outta here in the morning.”
“Maybe you can select one or two apartments for the visit and just let those girls know.”
Betsy nodded. “That’ll be easier. Kisha usually keeps a neat place, and Theresa.”
“Perfect. And it’ll be good for Theresa. Make her feel she’s a part of things.”
“I’ll get them up right now and let them know.” She turned away, then stopped. “So what’s this man like?”
“Seems to know what he’s doing.”
“I sure hope so,” she mumbled, moving away. “For these girls’ sake. I sure do.”
Dione blew out a breath. “So do I,” she whispered, even as the memory of the tingle of his touch raised the hair on the back of her neck.
By the time Brenda arrived at eight, the building was virtually vibrating with energy. She could hear excited voices and footsteps darting across the hall above her head, and spotted several girls dashing up the staircase. She walked into the office while pulling off her coat, surprised to see Dione.
“Morning. What’s going on? Feels like electric wires running through here. Betsy on another surprise inspection tear again?” She slid open the closet door, hung up her coat and sat down at her totally organized desk. She shifted her pencil cup to the center of the desk.
Dione smiled. “Something like that. Garrett Lawrence is stopping by this morning to take a tour. I wanted to make sure that everything was in order. He’ll be taking a look at Kisha’s and Theresa’s apartments.”
Brenda immediately noticed that Dione wouldn’t look at her while she was talking, something very unusual for Dee. Brenda swiveled her chair fully in Dione’s direction.
“So, the meeting went well.”
“I think so.” She shuffled some papers on the desk. “While I was there they were shooting a public service announcement for another organization. Mr. Lawrence said they work pretty well in getting attention. So I thought that we could do one and give it to my friend Terri, let her work up a promotional package for us.”
“Sounds good to me. But what about the documentary?”
Dione explained about the length of time it would take to complete and her anxiety about not having enough time to resubmit the proposals.
Brenda blew out a breath and slowly shook her head of spiral curls. “If it’s not one thing it’s something else. But at least we’ll have a shot with this public service thing.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
Brenda looked at Dione’s profile for a long moment, assessing the faraway look in her expression. Although they weren’t what you would call best friends, and didn’t share a lot of personal secrets, she felt she knew Dione well enough to sense when something was troubling her. But Dione had always been so self-contained, in control and focused. She seemed to have her life totally together. And even in the three years that she’d been working at Chances Are, Dione never shared her life story or why she decided to open the house. No more had ever been said beyond, “It’s something I felt compelled to do. Someone had to do it.”
Dione Williams was a private person. No one seemed to really know what drove her. What gave her the determination and drive. Maybe that’s just the way she was. But Brenda had serious doubts that it was that simple. Something pushed Dione Williams. Whatever it was, it had one helluva hold on her.
“What time is this guy coming?”
“Ten.” She fidgeted with the collar of her camel-colored silk blouse, then suddenly stood. “I’m going to check with Betsy. See how she’s making out with the girls. It’s time for day care to open.”
Brenda watched her walk out and wondered again what was stirring beneath the cool-watered surface.
For the third time that morning, Dione inspected her building from top to bottom, finally stopping in the basement where day care was in full swing. Sesame Street was playing from the small, portable television, the soft scent of baby powder and sweet formula filled the air.
Betsy looked up from changing the diaper of one of the toddlers, seeing Dione standing in the doorway. Betsy set the baby boy down on the floor, gave him a light tap on his bottom and crossed the pale blue floor. She stopped directly in front of Dione, the top of her graying head just reaching Dione’s chin. She stroked her cheek.
“What’s wrong, chile? You got that haunted look in your eyes like when you was worrying over one thing or the other. Or about that baby girl of yours.”
Dione forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just want to make sure everything is okay.” She looked over Betsy’s head, her eyes scanning the room.
“Of course everything is okay. Now, you want to tell me what’s really bothering you, Dione Williams?”
Dione met Betsy’s eyes. “I don’t want them to find any fault. We need this thing to work Betsy.” The little Betsy did know about their situation was enough. She didn’t want to tell her just how desperate things were. That she hadn’t taken a paycheck in more than a month, that she stayed up nights working and reworking the figures to make sure that the bills and the staff were paid, that the politicians were no longer interested in the plight of homeless young mothers, they had new agendas. How could she tell this to the woman whom she’d silently pledged to take care of?
“Of course it will. You just need to have a little faith.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Did you make out okay with Kisha and Theresa?”
Betsy waved her hand in dismissal. “Those two were so excited, I almost couldn’t get them out of here for school and Theresa off to that special reading test.”
Dione smiled, then checked her watch. “I’d better get upstairs.” She turned to go.
“I know something’s bothering you, Dione,” Betsy said, halting Dione’s exit. “Let it go. Everything will work out. Always has.”
Dione nodded, wanting to believe. But it had always been hard for her to have blind faith, ceaseless hope. She couldn’t depend on the intangible things—things she couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. Hopes and dreams dissolved, like mist burned off after the morning sunrise. She couldn’t trust emotion, only reality. Emotion got you in trouble. Made you stop thinking with your head. She couldn’t afford that. Emotion had cost her once, she couldn’t let it cost her again. Especially now.
