The Kristen Foundation. You know, be a team player. And why did
you act like you knew nothing about the Foundation?”
“I am a team player. I just thought she would spend more time talking to us if I asked about the Foundation. There’s something about her that intrigues me.”
“Good Lord,” said Jerry. “Look at her. Hell, your dad would ask
her out.”
“Speaking of my dad, he’s cooking chicken cacciatore. Want to get out of here in a little bit and have some homemade, stick-to- your-ribs food?”
“No, I’m going to stay to the end. Let’s go inside.”
The ballroom was spectacular, but not too pretentious, as they were trying to raise money, not show off how well they were doing. The lighting was soft enough to give a soothing feeling, an emotion the hospital tried to instill daily. Tables dressed with white linens and eight settings apiece were adorned with centerpieces made by the children, no two alike. Nick wondered if that had been Shelly’s idea. They seemed to be a big hit with the other guests.
After the last of the guests had been served their tiramisu, and Drs. White and Wall had spoken a few words on behalf of the Foundation and the hospital, Nick said his goodbyes to his tablemates and Jerry. He had eaten enough to be polite but knew his dad would be waiting with his famous cacciatore whenever he got home. He couldn’t disappoint Dad. Before leaving, he searched out a path to intercept Shelly so he could say goodnight. He didn’t want to leave things the way they were.