Promises in Paradise

He raised his brows but didn’t take the bait.

“I knew your father was on the list tonight. I was looking forward to seeing him. Sorry he couldn’t make it.”

Diane knew he was fishing for more information but she was not about to be chatty and pleasant to him.

“Something came up.”

“I believe you,” Hale said smoothly. “Adam would have gotten here on time, and wouldn’t slink in late.”

Her sharp retort died on her tongue. There was suddenly applause in the room beyond, bringing her back to the present. Diane pulled herself together, but only to turn her back on Hale as he watched her, his expression amused.

“I’ll find my own seat,” she said firmly to the assistant at the door. She turned back to Hale and gave him a frosty stare. “Yes, I’m late but it was unavoidable. My father will understand.”

“I’m sure you count on that.” He nodded, taking a large gulp of wine from a glass he’d been holding down at his side.

Hale then summarily handed the empty glass to the assistant, who had stood silently listening to the verbal sparring.

“I’ll escort her to her seat,” Hale said again.

“Look, I don’t want—”

Diane stopped abruptly rather than create a scene when an elderly couple appeared out of the darkened dinner hall, obviously about to leave. Spotting Hale, their faces lit with warm smiles, they called and reached out to him. The woman offered an overly rouged cheek and the man, probably her husband, took Hale’s hand to shake.

“Sorry we have to leave, Hale. Getting too old for these late nights,” the man said in a tired, gravelly voice.

“We certainly weren’t going to leave before having that very expensive dinner we paid for,” the wife said with false indignation.

They all laughed as Diane stood and witnessed the exchange. In a way she was fascinated by the affection that the older couple obviously held for Hale and that he seemed to have for them. In all fairness, she recalled that this was the way Hale had always been toward her father, Adam. And her father toward him. Holding Hale in high regard. Talking about him and praising him…ad nauseam.

She tried to move quietly away but only succeeded in drawing the couple’s attention.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hightower, this is Diane Maxwell,” Hale finally introduced her.

Again there was applause from the room and some laughter. Diane tried to ignore it and smiled graciously at the couple regarding her with mild curiosity.

“Dr. Maxwell,” she clarified, more for Hale’s sake than the older couple. “It’s nice to meet you but don’t let me interrupt. I see you’re leaving, and I really need to go in…”

“You’re Adam’s daughter. I’ve heard so much about you,” Mrs. Hightower cut in, beaming at her. “From Adam, of course. We were so hoping to see him tonight.”

“He knows how to work a room,” Hale commented.

Mr. Hightower chuckled. “He sure can. He also knows how to separate folks from their money for one cause or another.”

Diane, faced with such adoration, smiled wanly. “I know I’m a poor substitute…”

“Oh, not at all, young lady. You’re a very pretty one,” Mr. Hightower said.

“I’ll let my father know he was missed.”

She stood aside then, as goodbyes were now shared between Hale and the couple and they made their way to the elevator to leave. Diane did not wait for their final departure, but turned to the gala room in hopes of finally slipping into a vacant place at any of the tables near the entrance. She knew that it was inevitable that some people did not make it to these events and there were a number of empty seats.

Before she could reach a nearby table, let alone greet the occupants and apologize for arriving late, someone placed a hand at the small of her back and was firmly guiding her along between the tables and toward the front of the room. Nonplussed, Diane glanced over her shoulder and found Hale close behind her. They were halfway into the room. To stop and object now to his interference would have caused a commotion and embarrassment. Diane, seething with helplessness, had no choice but to allow herself to be directed.

When they reached her table, Hale pulled out her chair, holding it until she sat down. She smiled a greeting to those who glanced her way as she whispered her apologies. She settled herself, actually glad that the minor ordeal was over. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Hale take a seat several tables away.

She was very curious to know why he was even there.

Unlike the occupants of her table, who were much older and the vanguards of another generation of philanthropists, Hale’s table was filled with men and women his own age. The four or five women were all attractive, beautifully dressed and seemed to have a lot to say to him, vying for his attention…which, Diane noticed, he didn’t deny them. The men also seemed to hang on his every word, with respect and interest and easy camaraderie.

Diane made a little sniff of indifference and turned to answer the waiter who wanted to know if she desired red or white wine with her dinner.

Thankfully, she considered, being late had spared her the need to listen through most of the program, leaving only award presentations and acceptance remarks. One of those awards was for her father.

When the announcement was made for the Joshua J. Abernathy Humanist Award for excellence in education, Diane stood to make her way to the stage. As she did so, hoping not to trip over audio cables or someone’s feet, the evening’s MC expressed relief that she had finally arrived, fearing that the one seat at the reserved table would remain empty and the award mailed in absentia to its recipient. Mild laughter followed these comments as Diane reached the podium. Allowing the applause to die away she realized, looking out over the audience who were all staring at her, she’d never prepared any remarks.

“Actually,” Diane began after she’d accepted the Revere Bowl and the envelope containing the award check and posed for a quick photo with the museum president, “I got lost.”

Her honest and guileless opening received genuine laughter. She stood looking lovely and unflustered and pleased with herself for having charmed them.

Take that, Diane said to herself, knowing Hale was in the audience watching. Probably hoping that she’d mess up.

“My father always says I am directionally challenged, but a great swimmer and generally acceptable as a daughter. So, I’m forgiven my few shortcomings.”

There was more laughter from the audience and she relaxed, thinking quickly on her feet. She would be brief and succinct and do Adam Maxwell proud.

“My father sends his regrets at not being here tonight. There was an unavoidable conflict. It’s my pleasure and honor to be here in his place. As you know Adam Maxwell has always been supportive of Into the Future programs and the great work you do in furthering the opportunities for black youngsters to pursue education and their dreams. He’s very moved to be recognized with this award for his work, but says he doesn’t deserve it. I agree.”

There were some chuckles, but it was obvious that the audience was taken aback by this pronouncement.

“My father would be the first to waive the praise and say he’s only doing what desperately needs to be done. Along the way in his life and career there were people to guide and support him, believe in him. He feels he’s simply returning the favor. Paying it forward, so to speak.

“Nonetheless I am most humbled, and very happy to accept on his behalf your appreciation of his work and contribution. Also on my father’s behalf, I will be donating the monetary award to your organization to be used to further your mission. Encouraging black students who might otherwise have limited opportunities for a productive and happy future.”

The audience came to their feet and showed their surprise and approval with enthusiastic sustained applause. Diane stood regal and still, glancing out over the guests with a genuine smile.

“Thank you, from my father and from myself. Again, I apologize for my late arrival but I wouldn’t have missed tonight for anything.”

She turned and left the stage, stopping only briefly to accept thanks from the director of Into the Future for the gift of her father’s award check. The applause continued until she took her seat.

As she did so Diane hazarded a glance over her shoulder to Hale’s table. Everyone around him had taken their seats but he was still standing and applauding until the end, his expression indiscernible in the dimly lit room. She hoped she achieved total indifference to his response as she sat down again. But she knew Hale’s gaze followed her.

The presentations continued. Diane found that as she was being served her dinner everyone else had pretty much finished. She covertly ate enough of the duck confit and asparagus, artfully tied with a strip of red pepper, to quell her growling stomach before she allowed her plate to be removed. She slowly sipped her wine, giving her something to do as conversation happened around her. She was steadfast in her resolve to ignore the quiet but constant buzz of talk and laughter coming from Hale’s table.

She focused her attention on the stage and podium, to others receiving awards and giving thanks. Having performed as she’d been required to, Diane realized she was also no longer the subject of admiring glances, appreciative smiles or even mild curiosity. She felt suddenly, oddly, out of sync with the evening and everyone around her. And alone, as if she didn’t belong.

Inexplicably, she blamed Hale Cameron for her feelings.

As the dessert was being served, Diane picked up her fork and carefully broke off some of the tiramisu but she couldn’t really enjoy it. She was suddenly acutely aware of Hale and his presence in the room, and his relationship to her father. And how her acceptance remarks, off-the-cuff and sincere and totally inadvertent, had been a lot about him.