CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
RHETT
Week Two
The foundation board meets without Nora in the room and with her face on a screen mounted above the conference table.
Stockholm morning light fills the hotel behind her. Stoneharbor evening darkens our windows. She wears glasses I have not seen before and pushes them up whenever the finance report becomes irritating.
The familiar gesture catches beneath my ribs.
"The grant committee needs independent authority," she says. "No donor should be able to threaten the tutoring program because they dislike a founder's private life."
"Agreed," I say.
The board attorney presents revised bylaws. Funds become harder to reclaim. Program leadership belongs to Nora's office rather than either founder individually. My annual donation becomes an irrevocable commitment instead of discretionary support.
One donor objects. "Mr. Callahan is the primary public draw. Limiting his control may reduce fundraising flexibility."
I look at the screen. Nora's expression has gone professionally blank.
"My popularity is not governance," I say. "If the foundation depends on my reputation, then I have already proved why it needs protection from me."
The motion passes.
After the meeting, everyone disconnects except Nora.
"You didn't have to make your donation irrevocable," she says.
"The programs shouldn't rise and fall with our relationship."
"What if your income changes?"
"There is a hardship clause. Elena insisted I acknowledge mortality."
"She is good for you."
"A disturbing number of women are."
Nora smiles.
For several seconds, neither of us ends the call.
"How is Helsinki?" I ask.
"Snow. Excellent coffee. Adrian fell on outdoor ice while claiming he could skate."
"Was the camera running?"
"Three cameras."
"Please preserve the footage for charitable purposes."
Her laughter crosses the ocean.
"How are the playoffs?" she asks.
"We won the first game of the next round. Lucas was impossible."
"He usually is."
"He dated Sloane."
Nora leans closer to the screen. "Our Sloane?"
"Apparently psychologists can make poor choices too."
"Does Lucas know you are sharing his private life internationally?"
"No. I am becoming my worst enemy."
She laughs again, then looks away.
"I miss this," she says.
"Gossip?"
"Us being friends."
The words are gentle enough to break something.
"I miss it too."
"I don't want every conversation to become an assessment of whether we are reconciling."
"Then it won't."
"You cannot guarantee that."
"No. But I can refuse to ask the question each time."
She nods.
"Send me tomorrow's schedule," I say. "Not because I need to know where you are. I want to see the project plan if you're comfortable sharing it."
Her eyes soften. "I am."
After the call, Lucas enters the room with two coffees.
"Did I hear my name?"
"No."
"You lie badly now. Therapy has weakened you."
I take the coffee. "How long did you date Sloane?"
He closes his eyes. "I regret friendship."
"I told Nora."
"I will ensure your next concussion is less accidental."
We sit beside the empty conference table. Outside, rain turns city lights into blurred photographs.
For the first time, missing Nora does not feel like an emergency demanding action.
It feels like love making room for time.