Chapter 21
I tried to shield Adelaide from the blowing snow as I helped her out of the black sedan. After a couple of weeks of mild weather, winter had returned with a vengeance with this late March storm. With any luck, it would be our last blizzard before spring arrived.
Adelaide wore a black wool coat paired with light blue gloves and a matching scarf. She laced her arm through my own as we walked toward Wexstone Children’s Hospital, located on the outskirts of Altborn.
“Watch your step there,” I said as I pointed to a patch of ice on the walkway.
She adjusted her gait and carefully picked her way over the icy patch. “Thank you. These heels aren’t made for this weather. I don’t know what Dash was thinking when he insisted on them today.”
“Oh, he was definitely doing me a favor.” I winked.
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “What do you mean?”
“I’m pretty sure he knows that I can’t resist looking at your ass and the way it moves when you walk in your heels.”
“Oliver!” She swatted my shoulder, pretending to be scandalized, but her stern face broke into a laugh as we approached the hospital’s entrance.
I loved making her laugh. She may have thought that I was teasing her, but I was dead serious. She was stunning in everything she wore, from sweats and baggy T-shirts to formal gowns, but I was particularly grateful for her love of high heels and the favors they did for her delectable ass.
“Welcome to Wexstone Children’s Hospital,” a light voice greeted.
Oliver, get your mind out of the gutter and focus on the task at hand.
I nodded at the lithe woman with warm skin and a head full of dark curls dressed in a beautifully tailored navy pantsuit. “Thank you for having us.”
“We are so honored to have you here. My name is Caroline and I’ll be your host today. My colleague will take your coats and then you can follow me to the conference room where we can get you some tea or coffee.”
We handed our coats to a man in his early twenties and followed Caroline down the corridor to an elevator.
Today’s agenda included a meeting with the hospital’s board regarding their plans for the following fiscal year.
They already had the capital they needed, but they wanted to get our buy-in on their proposals in hopes that we would partner with them, thus bringing the hospital ongoing positive press.
Our visit was scheduled to start off with the board meeting, followed by a tour and visit with some of the patients.
There would, of course, be the requisite photo op along the way, though we had convinced the hospital’s public relations team to take the photos and send them out to journalists later, rather than allowing the press inside of the hospital and disrupting things for the children and their parents.
The elevator opened and Caroline led us to a large conference room lined with windows along one wall, the opposite decorated with photos of children and their families ringing a large bell.
“These are lovely pictures,” Adelaide complimented, taking her time as she looked over each one.
Caroline paused beside her in front of a photo of a little boy, his hair and eyebrows missing from chemo, grinning from ear to ear as he rang the bell.
Beside him, his parents’ eyes shone with tears as they watched him, a mixture of pride and wonder and gratitude on their faces.
“Thank you. When children are done with treatment, no matter if it was a one-night stay or they have been in and out of the hospital for years, they get to ring the Champion Bell. They love it, and it’s a great reminder to the staff of why we do what we do. ”
“Oh.” Adelaide laid her hand over her chest. “I love that.”
We made our way to the table, and I pulled out a chair for Adelaide. Down the center of the table sat an array of breakfast pastries, fruits, cheeses, and spreads. A smaller table in the corner held coffee, tea, and juices. They had pulled out all the stops for us this morning.
I placed a Danish and some grapes on a plate for Adelaide and poured her a cup of tea, leaving it black, before pouring myself a cup, stirring in sugar and a splash of milk.
The board members filed in, bowing to me and greeting Adelaide before taking their seats around the table. I typically found these types of meetings exhausting; they often became more of an exercise in ass-kissing than anything else.
Adelaide, on the other hand, was clearly all in. As the board members presented their plans to improve the hospital and how they planned to allocate their funds, she took detailed notes and asked a number of questions. I was in awe of her and the passion she brought to this.
As they broached the topic of facilities, Caroline spoke up from where she was posted up in the corner of the room. “It may help to give His Majesty and Ms. Levy a tour so they can better picture the proposed changes, if that is of interest?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Adelaide agreed.
Following a quick set of photos with the entire board, Caroline began our tour, joined by the board chair—an older, balding gentleman by the name of Mr. Bugley—and the executive director—a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Corksmith.
We stopped at a dimly lit room filled with beanbag chairs, soft cushions, and baskets of stuffed animals and fidget toys.
Along one wall hung a large panel with a variety of gears to turn, laces to tie, sequins that changed color when brushed in different directions, and zippers to play with.
A swing with what looked like a fabric cocoon hung in one corner, and a projector lit the ceiling with a multicolored galaxy simulation.
Soft music filled the room from a speaker by the door.
“This is our new sensory space,” Caroline announced. “We’ve received a lot of positive feedback about it so far. It has been very helpful for our kids who get overstimulated from the lights and bustle of the hospital and those who need a space to process what’s going on around them.”
“Oh, this is brilliant,” I said.
“It is,” Adelaide agreed. “The library in my neighborhood has a room like this in the children’s wing. I wish more public spaces would start implementing them for all ages.”
We continued down the corridor until we reached a space that resembled a classroom with a large whiteboard on one wall, tables and chairs spaced throughout the room, a colorful calendar, and a bookshelf. Opposite the whiteboard were shelves filled with art supplies.
Caroline led us into the room, stopping to stand by one of the tables.
“This is our learning studio. As you can see, we have one-half set up in a typical classroom setting, while the other half is used for art activities and therapy sessions. All our families are welcome to use the room as they see fit.”
Adelaide’s eyes sparkled and she was biting down on a grin.
“This is wonderful!” She thumbed through some of the books before making her way to the calendar on the wall, looking over the pockets stapled on the corkboard next to it, assessing every nook and cranny.
She was in her element and I loved watching her.
She turned back toward us as she surveyed the supplies on the shelves. “You said families can use the classroom as they see fit. Are they responsible for their child’s education while they are here, or are there additional resources, such as tutors, available to them?”
“Um, well…” Caroline stuttered, “the children who are still enrolled in school receive assignments from their teachers. For some of our long-term patients, their parents pull them out and follow a homeschooling curriculum as their treatments allow. But we do not provide education resources, just the space and what is in here.”
“Hmmm.” Adelaide’s lips were pursed in thought. She turned to the board members. “Mr. Bugsley, you said that you have some funds to invest in a new program in the coming year, correct?”
The balding man nodded. “Yes, we have been discussing some options but hadn’t landed on one just yet.”
“What if you partnered with Royal College of Wexstone to have their education students available for tutoring? Your funding could provide a transportation stipend on top of paying the tutors. In addition to having tutors available for one-on-one help, you could schedule activities such as story times or classes with the art and music students.”
I couldn’t hold back my grin. “Adelaide, that’s brilliant! It would be the perfect way to give the university students some hands-on experience and provide resources to the families here.” This fiancée of mine was a wonder. I couldn’t believe she had come up with this idea on the spot.
“I have some contacts at the university, Mr. Bugsley,” Mrs. Corksmith said.
“I do as well; it’s my alma mater and I am still in touch with a number of the education faculty members. I would be happy to help with any connections you may need,” Adelaide added.
Mr. Bugsley nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll present this to the board but can’t imagine anyone would object to the idea. We’ll get this in motion and will be sure to let you know if we need any introductions. Thank you very much, Ms. Levy.”
“We are very lucky to have such a thoughtful woman as our future queen,” Caroline said, her eyes silvery with tears.
I came to stand by Adelaide, squeezing her shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the room was occupied,” said a soft voice behind us.
We turned to see a short woman with dark hair in a messy bun, pushing a wheelchair that held a small girl who looked no older than eight or nine. The woman’s eyes widened when she saw me, and she dropped into a curtsy.
“Please, do come in. We were just leaving,” Caroline said, gesturing for the pair to enter the room. Mr. Bugsley and Mrs. Corksmith bowed and bid us farewell, promising Adelaide that they would be in touch soon. Caroline took up a spot near the door, waiting to follow our lead.