Chapter 6
Mia
Inspiration Strikes
The moment I notice the little girl and presumably her mother, my gut tells me that they are the inspiration we need to develop our theme. I hop up from my seat and follow the woman to the bakery case.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your daughter.”
The woman turns her head, giving me a contrite look. “I’m sorry if we disturbed you and your boyfriend,” she says, while nodding towards Otto.
“Oh no! You didn’t disturb us. Not at all,” I assure her, not even trying to correct the “boyfriend” comment. “This may sound like an odd question, but when you told your daughter that you couldn’t take her to the park, tell me what you meant exactly.”
She scuffs the toe of her shoe on the floor and sighs, then looks me in the eye. “Her wheelchair tires get hung up in the grass, so it’s impossible to push her around the park. Plus there’s really nothing she can play on like the other kids—” Her words falter, but after a moment of silence, she takes a fortifying breath and continues. “She’d love to ride the merry-go-round. But, even if I managed to put her on it, there’s no straps to prevent her from falling off. Watching all the kids laughing as their parents spin them around makes my daughter feel worse and brings home the fact that she can’t do what other children do.”
I nod in understanding, blinking back my own emotions. A trip to the park emphasizes her daughter’s disability rather than helping her feel like she fits in.
“All the playground equipment has physical barriers. The swings and climbing gyms are not accessible. It’s not fair that the park isn’t set up so everyone of all abilities can play.”
Bing! A light bulb goes on as I digest what she just said. That’s our theme!
“Have you ever heard of an inclusive park?” I ask excitedly.
Her brows draw together. “I have. But there’s not one within driving distance.”
“I know, but we’re working on raising money for one.” I quickly describe the fundraiser to her and how we hope to raise a million dollars. Her expression slowly morphs from a frown into a grin. “I’d love to get your input. Could I use you as a consultant for the fundraising project? You can review our materials through a new lens as a parent of a child who would benefit from the park. We’d be honored if you have time to help, but I certainly understand if you don’t.” Holding my breath, I wait for her response.
Squeezing my upper arm, she says, “I’d love to help! I’m Nora, by the way.”
Laughing, I say, “I’m Mia! Welcome to the project team, Nora. What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Her name is Madison.”
We exchange contact information by sending each other a text message on our phones. “I’ll get back to you when we have something to review. Thank you so much! I hope that we can raise enough money so we’ll be able to build a park where children of all abilities will have a fun, safe environment to play together.”
“Me, too,” Nora says, blinking back tears and giving me a hug.
She walks back to join her daughter with a pink cupcake in hand, fortunately one with better frosting than some of the others I did this morning. Turning, I rush back to join Otto. “We have a theme!” I squeal with excitement leaking from my voice as I join him at the table.
He nods. “Okay, lay it on me.”
“Nora suggested that traditional parks aren’t set up so kids of all abilities can play . We need to center our theme around the idea of play . I was approaching the theme from the standpoint of the donors and not the kids who’ll use the park.”
Otto’s expression becomes thoughtful, then he grins. “Brilliant!” he says. He grabs a napkin, pulls a pen out from his backpack, and starts to sketch.
While he’s scribbling, I babble on, not able to contain my enthusiasm. “Nora agreed to be a consultant for the project. She’s going to be great, bringing a new set of ideas we might miss.” On an intellectual level, I knew this project was important and needed by the community. But it didn’t sink in on an emotional level until I saw Nora and her daughter. There must be hundreds of children in the area who are unable to participate in play because the playground hasn’t been designed for all abilities. My previously lukewarm attitude towards the fundraising event turns into unbridled excitement.
Otto nods as he continues to draw. He’s so cute, with his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. I didn’t know he had any artistic skills. What other talents does Otto have that I’ve overlooked?
The napkin is upside down from my vantage point, so I can’t exactly see all the details of his sketch, but it looks impressive. I take a sip of my coffee and a final bite of the replacement breakfast cupcake as I watch. Savoring the tastes of much needed sugar and caffeine, I get a second wind. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I capture additional tasks in the spreadsheet that include Nora.
“What do you think?” Otto asks a few minutes later as he slides the napkin across the table.
I rotate the napkin and gasp. “Oh my gosh, Otto! This is incredible.” His sketch includes a park filled with children of all ages and abilities. At the center of the design it says, “We All Play.”
“I’ll add bright, cheery colors and a more playful font,” he says.
At a loss for any words of criticism, I say, “It’s perfect.”
He arches an eyebrow. “You like it?” he asks with a shy grin.
Reaching across the table, I squeeze his upper arm. His bicep feels like it’s made of steel. “I love it.” A zing of attraction zaps through my fingertips and I pull my hand away. Our gazes lock and I wonder whether he felt that electrical energy between us. His expression doesn’t give anything away.
“Will you be able to meet the deadline now?” I tease, quickly pushing the pesky chemistry I’m feeling aside.
“I will,” he replies.
Suddenly grappling with confusing emotions about my project co-lead—a mixture of irritation, attraction, and awe—I pretend to focus back on the project spreadsheet, praying that my feelings don’t show on my face.
“By the way, I’ve been training a pigeon,” Otto says.
His comment nips the attraction in the bud, and I give him a steely glare. “There are no pigeons on this project, as I mentioned before.”
“Oh? My bad. They really are intelligent animals. Maybe we should consider adding them.”
Groaning, I say, “Not on my watch. Those birds poop. A lot.”
He laughs, then shrugs, letting the point drop too easily. Why do I feel like he’s not going to give up on the pigeons?
A timer goes off on my phone and we both jump. Scrambling out of my chair, I pack up my laptop and grab my stuff. “I’ve got to hurry to class. I’ll email you the updated spreadsheet. Can you get your sketch translated into digital format and send it to me?”
“Yes, mighty project leader,” he says with a bow. His sexy smile slams into me, causing a warmth to flood my body from head to toe. Instead of irritation, I’m suddenly feeling an overwhelming attraction towards Otto. This is something that I’ve never felt before, but my rational self tells me to ignore the attraction and focus on the project.
Mia Robinson attracted to a hockey player? Nope, not until pigeons learn how to deliver invitations.