Chapter 15
ENZO
I park my hire car on the street outside where I'm supposed to meet Ms. Grech.
It's not the plot of neglected land.
It's a school.
A school.
A school that's only a short distance from the plot of land I visited yesterday.
I don't understand what this school has to do with what Luca and I discussed yesterday.
Then again, I've learned enough about Luca Valizar to know that information comes on a need-to-know basis, and apparently I don't need to know.
I glance at the building again.
The last of the children disappear through the entrance, bright little backpacks bouncing behind them. Parents hurrying back to their cars.
A sharp tap on my window startles me. I turn to see a woman standing outside. She looks to be in her mid-forties, maybe. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face into a ponytail. She’s wearing wide black trousers, and a long camel coat.
I know exactly who she is. I lower the window.
“Mr. Knight?”
“Ms. Grech?”
I climb out of the car.
“Enzo,” I say, shaking her hand.
“Penelope.”
Her grip is as firm as I expected, and her expression leans more towards discussing business than pleasantries.
“I hope you didn't have trouble getting here. The traffic can be heavy at this time of the morning.”
“Getting here, no.” I glance toward the school. “Understanding why I'm here might be another matter.”
She smiles faintly.
“You'll soon find out.”
“Does Mr. Valizar always keep people in the dark?”
“You’re not as in the dark as some.”
I can't tell if she's joking. She turns toward the school. “Come with me. It will make more sense once we’ve had this meeting.”
And why exactly am I having this meeting? I follow Penelope toward the entrance.
“Perhaps you could tell me what this has to do with the proposed land development project Luca mentioned yesterday because I’m still having difficulty connecting all the dots.”
“Mr. Valizar has been in discussions with Miss Turlington for several months,” Penelope continues. “And he has now come to a final decision. He would like to redevelop it for the benefit of the school and the surrounding community.”
I try to connect all the dots. He’s seen the work I did on the abandoned depot.
“And now he wants me to work out what should be done with it?”
“Among other things.”
I look at her.
“What other things?”
That faint smile again.
“That's what we're here to discuss.”
We’re shown into the reception area. The woman behind the desk greets Penelope warmly, which tells me that this isn’t her first visit here. I look at my watch. We’re five minutes early.
“Before anything is finalized, Mr. Valizar wants to know what’s feasible, what it will cost, and whether whatever is built can be sustained in the long term.”
“That I can do. But what does this have to do with the school?”
“That’s why we’re here. Miss Turlington knows what the school and the community need. Mr. Valizar doesn’t want to decide what should be built without speaking to the people who will actually use it.”
He has a good point.
The door opens and a middle-aged woman steps out. She's tall, with silvery black hair swept back from her face. Her face brightens when she sees Penelope.
“Penelope. Lovely to see you again.”
“Good morning, Miss Turlington.”
They greet each other warmly before Penelope introduces me.
“This is Enzo Knight.”
“Mr. Knight.” Miss Turlington offers me her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“Please come in.” She holds the door to her office open.
Children’s drawings cover one wall along with certificates and photographs. Books are stacked on a low wooden shelf and on her desk, a mesh wire pen tidy stuffed with pens. There’s a large egg-shaped glass paperweight beside her mouse mat.
We sit, then Penelope proceeds to run through what she told me outside.
“Mr. Knight is here to get an insight into what we’re hoping to work on,” she explains. “He'll look at the site, consider the school's requirements and put together his initial recommendations.”
That's a more definite description of what I've agreed to than I remember giving Luca yesterday, but I let it go.
Miss Turlington glances at me.
“Luca has always been very generous to this school, and we are extremely grateful for his support.” Her voice fills with affection but she doesn’t elaborate. “We’ve been talking about that site for months, maybe even years,” she continues. “There’s so much we can do with the space.”
“Such as?” I ask.
Her face lights up as she mentions the things she would like. Safe after-school spaces, bigger and better art and music facilities. Indoor recreation space. Affordable childcare and holiday programs for working parents.
The site is smaller than the projects I'm accustomed to, but that doesn't make it less interesting. If anything, the parameters make it easier even if this isn’t how we do things at Knight Enterprises.
We don't move this quickly. There would be preliminary reports, meetings, due diligence before anyone started talking about what might actually be built.
There will be due diligence here too, but as the headmistress speaks, I find myself picturing the land at the end of the street and mentally moving pieces around it.
It's doable.
Penelope glances at her watch.
“As previously discussed, it would be useful if Mr. Knight had someone from the school he could liaise with while he's putting together his initial recommendations. Someone who understands the children, the parents and how the school operates day to day.”
The headmistress nods. “I have just the person for you.” She reaches for the intercom. “Could you ask Miss Dean to come to my office when she has a moment, please?”
We continue talking while we wait. A few minutes later, there's a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Miss Turlington calls.
The door opens and I hear footsteps.
“Ah, thank you Molly.”
Molly?
My brain stops.
As does my heart.
It can’t be.
I glance to my side.
It’s her.
It’s really her. The kindergarten teacher. She's standing near the door in a bright pink sweater and dark pants.
The woman I haven't seen since Venice.
The woman whose video has put me everywhere. Every moment from that night in Venice comes flooding back: the evening we shared, the betrayal, the questions I've been carrying, the answers I want, and the feelings I haven't been able to explain.
I’d resigned myself to never seeing her again.
I knew she was a teacher.
I didn't know she lived in Chicago.
I didn't know she worked here.
But … the dots now crash and collide together. She talked to Luca Valizar at the ball. She said her headmistress knew him.
Molly’s attention falls on me, a few seconds later. Her mouth falls open and whatever she was about to say disappears. Her eyes widen, and then stay like that.
I probably have that same expression, too. But my heart starts to race and my pulse pounds. My hands feel suddenly clammy.
“Take a seat, please, Molly.” Miss Turlington is apparently oblivious to the fact that neither of us is moving. If Penelope has noticed anything, she doesn’t show it.
Molly’s face has turned pink. I’m sure her jaw would have hit the floor by now, but she quickly composes herself.
“Good morning.”
Her gaze flickers to Penelope before returning to me.
“Good morning,” I manage to say.
The headmistress gestures toward the empty chair.
“Molly, this is Penelope Grech. She works with Luca Valizar, and this is Enzo Knight.”
Molly’s eyes meet mine again. She nods, but doesn’t let on that she knows me.
“We've been discussing the plans for the old pavilion site at the end of the street, and Mr. Knight is going to put together some initial recommendations for Luca Valizar. I'd like you to be his point of contact here at the school.”
Molly's head snaps toward the headmistress.
“Me?”
“We discussed this a few days ago.” The headmistress peers closer at Molly. “Are you feeling okay, Molly?”
“Yes. Sorry. I am. Okay, I mean.”
“You know the children, and you know the parents, and you've certainly heard me talking about that site often enough.”
I glance at Molly out of the corner of my eye. She looks nervous. Ruffled. Flustered.
“Yes, but—”
“You've always had plenty of ideas about what we could do with it.”
Molly looks at me.
I look back at her.
Once upon a time I might have found her expression amusing.
Today, I don't.
She presses her lips together as if she’s not sure of her words, then, “I don't think Mr. Knight needs—”
“I do.” The words are out before I decide whether I mean them.
Molly goes still. If Penelope hadn’t noticed any awkwardness between us earlier, she will have now.
“If I'm going to make recommendations,” I continue, “I need someone who understands how the school operates and what the people using the facilities actually need.”
It's a perfectly reasonable answer. A professional answer. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have a hundred questions for the woman sitting near me.
Molly’s hands twist in her lap. “Okay.”
“Excellent.” The headmistress looks delighted. “That's settled.”
I'm not sure either Molly or I would describe anything about this as settled.
Penelope rises. “Why don't we walk down to the site now? It'll be easier to discuss once Mr. Knight has seen it properly.”
I don't bother to tell her that I've already visited it.
Molly looks at her watch. “I should get back to my class.”
“I’ll have someone cover for you for half an hour,” Miss Turlington says.
Molly opens her mouth, then closes it again. “Great,” she murmurs.
We leave the office a few minutes later. The site is only at the end of the street, so we walk. Penelope leads the way, and Molly and I follow. But neither of us says a word.
We might as well be strangers.