Part 5: What the Board Heard

The board meeting took place in Harbor House's small library, three weeks after the twins came home. June stayed with them while I attended by video. My camera showed only my face and the bookshelf behind me; I had dressed carefully, but below the frame I wore soft trousers and the socks I had forgotten to change.

The director, Mrs. Alvarez, began by thanking Julian for the proposal. Then she introduced an independent attorney who had agreed to review it. Julian's expression tightened when the attorney placed a marked copy on the table.

“I understand Mara recommended this review,” he said.

“I did,” I replied. “The board should have the information it needs.”

The attorney explained the tenant clause first. It might allow the management company to replace low-cost community tenants with higher-paying businesses. That could increase revenue, but it could also change who benefited from the building. The contract did not require the board to approve individual changes. The second clause gave the company its management fee before several program expenses were covered.

“Those terms aren't necessarily illegal,” the attorney said. “They are choices. The question is whether they're choices you want to make.”

One board member asked Julian whether he would remove the clauses. He said his investors wanted flexibility. Another asked why he had described the agreement as already approved by me.

Julian looked toward the camera. I waited.

“I shouldn't have said that,” he answered. “Mara hadn't seen the final version.”

Mrs. Alvarez folded her hands. “You know her family has supported this center for years. Her name carries weight here.”

“I understand.”

“You do now,” she said.

There was no vote that afternoon. The board requested a revised proposal and invited two other firms to submit estimates. Julian could still compete for the work. He would simply have to do it without borrowing my reputation.

After the call, he sent me a message: I was angry when you called her. I see why you did. I'm sorry I used your name.

I believed he understood at least part of the problem. I did not confuse that with everything being repaired.

The twins had their first pediatric appointment the next day. Julian arrived early, carrying the diaper bag and a list of questions. He had practiced fitting the car seats with June the previous evening, and he remembered the clinic's address without asking me. Small things, perhaps, but they were the things our children actually needed.

In the waiting room he watched another father walk a sleepy baby around the chairs.

“I missed their first appointment at the hospital,” Julian said.

“You missed several.”

He nodded. “I can't undo that.”

“No. You can come to the next one.”

When the nurse called us in, he stood and picked up Nora's carrier. It was an ordinary action. I let it remain ordinary, without turning it into a promise or a pardon.

That evening Mrs. Alvarez called. “The board has another question,” she said. “We found an email with your name on it, approving the proposal. Did you send it?”