CHAPTER FOUR
Mia smiled at Stan’s secretary. “Hi. I’m Mia Costas. Mr. Lewis is expecting me.”
“I’m Gina. It’s nice to meet you. Stan had to leave his office for a few minutes. If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”
Mia glanced at her watch. She’d arranged to meet Becky in her flower shop in an hour.
“He shouldn’t be too long,” Gina added. “When do you need to leave?”
“In about forty-five minutes.”
Gina nodded and dialed a phone number. “Hi, Stan. Mia is here to see you. She needs to leave in forty-five minutes.”
There was silence while Stan spoke.
Mia hoped he could make it back to the office. She had a lot of questions about the gala and some of them were more urgent than others.
Gina replaced the phone on its cradle. “He’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. Would you like something to drink?”
Mia shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. Would you mind if I visited the neonatal area while I’m waiting?”
“That’s fine. Just see the site foreman before you go into the construction area. You’ll need this.” Gina handed Mia a security card and a visitor’s badge. “You won’t be able to walk into the Birth Center without these. I’ll call the staff and let them know you’re coming.”
“Thanks, Gina. I’ll see you soon.” Mia had been thinking about the neonatal unit all day. Deirdre’s files had been full of notes about the gala and how they could increase the visibility of the event. Something she’d read had struck a chord with her and she wanted to see whether her hunch was correct.
The elevator pinged as it opened onto the pediatric ward. She quickly walked along the corridor and into the Birth Center.
“Are you Mia?”
She turned toward the nurses’ station. A woman with short blond hair and blue eyes smiled at her. “I am.”
“Gina told us you’re heading into the new neonatal unit. If you’ve got any questions, just ask.”
“Do you have the time to answer a couple of questions now?”
“Sure.”
Mia pulled her notebook out of her bag. “I’m helping to organize the fundraising gala for the neonatal unit. Can you tell me why children are sent to the neonatal unit?”
“There are lots of reasons. Some babies are born very prematurely. That can lead to all kinds of complications. Other babies have a low birth weight or have a medical condition that requires specialist care. We also look after babies who have been involved in car accidents or suffered from trauma. At the moment we can’t treat all children or provide a lot of ongoing care. We don’t have the room.”
“Do you know if any parents would like to share their experience of having a baby in the neonatal unit?”
“I’m sure there are. You should talk to Mr. Lewis. He’ll know the best way to contact them.” A high-pitched beep came from a room opposite them. “I have to go. If you have any more questions, see me on your way out.”
Mia nodded and moved out of the way. She checked her watch as she walked toward the new neonatal area. Stan would be back in his office soon and she wanted to take some photos of the partly constructed rooms.
She scanned the security card Gina had given her and opened the doors. Within a few minutes she’d introduced herself to the site foreman, signed in, and was wearing a hard hat.
Unlike yesterday, the neonatal area was busy. Somewhere along the corridor the construction crew was hammering and drilling. Another coat of paint was being added to the ceiling above the first nurses’ station and in a room to her left, furniture was being assembled.
Mia quickly took some photos. As she moved through the ward, she began to appreciate the scale of what Stan had created. This would be a wonderful facility for the community.
All they needed was another two million dollars.
***
Stan rushed into his office. “Sorry I’m late.”
Mia was sitting on one of his sofas, typing on her laptop. She’d pulled her hair into a fancy knot on the top of her head. Her high cheekbones and graceful neck added another layer to the woman he was used to seeing.
She looked at him and smiled. “I’ve only been back for a few minutes. I took some photos of the new neonatal area. I’m even more impressed than I was yesterday.”
Stan sat beside her. “It’s completely different when the construction crews are there. Did you get the photos you wanted?”
“I did. Gina was a big help. Without her security card, I wouldn’t have been able to get past the foreman.”
Stan didn’t like increasing the hospital’s security, but in this case, it was important. “We need to be careful that no one walks in who shouldn’t be there. Apart from potential accidents, we’ve got a lot of expensive furniture and equipment going into the unit each day. Keeping track of who’s going in and out would be a nightmare without using a security system.”
Mia nodded. “I wouldn’t want strangers walking in there, either. Do you want to see what I was working on last night?”
Stan nodded. “Go ahead.”
She turned her laptop toward him. “I checked Deirdre’s plan. It doesn’t look as though she was going to interview the parents of babies who had used the neonatal unit. I think that’s a mistake.”
“People value their privacy. The babies’ families have been through a lot. They don’t need their stories on social media or in the newspapers.”
“Have you asked if they’d help?”
Stan frowned. “We thought about it, but decided not to contact them.”
“The publicity campaign for the gala and the neonatal unit needs to touch people’s hearts. I don’t know any families who have had a baby in the neonatal unit. If I didn’t know you, that would make me less likely to support the project. If I read about another family’s experience, it would make me more emotionally involved in what you’re doing.”
Stan scanned the document on Mia’s laptop. “What has an art gallery extension in San Francisco got to do with the neonatal unit?”
“Emotion. Look at this…” Mia scrolled through the document. “I know someone who works at this gallery. These are the images they used in their fundraising campaign.”
“They don’t show what the new gallery will look like.”
“Exactly.”
Stan studied the four images. The photos were of people making art instead of the building.
“This is my favorite.”
Mia enlarged the photo on the top left-hand side. It showed an older man and a boy of about six painting together. The same words that were on all the graphics were on the bottom of the picture. Chalice Gallery. Creating a brighter future.
Mia pointed at the little boy. “Look at the way he’s watching what the older man is doing. He’s happy and excited. You need to choose an emotion you want to focus on and select images and words that support it.”
Stan sat back in his chair. “How is a picture of a baby going to raise two million dollars for the unit?”
“It’s more than the picture.” She looked around his office. “Is there something here that means a lot to you?”
He nodded at something behind her. “The paintings on the wall.”
Mia swiveled in her seat. “Why are they important?”
“My daughter made them last year. We spent the weekend skiing at Wilmot Mountain. On our way home, she took photos of two historic buildings. She spent a lot of time painting them for me.”
“They’re beautiful.”
Stan thought so too, but he was biased. “She loves art. Whenever Annabelle’s holding a paintbrush she’s happy.”
“How do the paintings make you feel?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You sound like one of our clinical psychologists.”
“Or someone who lives by their emotions.” Mia smiled, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t let him get away with a superficial answer.
“When I look at the paintings they remind me of Annabelle. My daughter has a way of filling a room with her personality. She could have painted the canvases in black, gray, and white, but she chose to add color. The red bricks, the Christmas wreath on the door, and the little dog running under the trees, all remind me of her.”
“How do they make you feel?” she repeated.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“I grew up with a Greek grandfather. Stubborn is his middle name.”
Stan sighed. “When I look at Annabelle’s paintings, they make me feel happy and close to her.”
“How would the community feel if our fundraising campaign was about the people affected by the neonatal unit instead of the building?”
“More committed to making sure it happened.”
“Exactly.”
“Does this mean you’ll help Gina and I design our advertising campaign?”
Mia’s smile slipped. “I could look at your final copy.” She glanced at her watch. “I really need to leave. I’m meeting Becky O’Donaghue at her flower shop. We’re choosing the flowers for the gala.”
“Do you have any other questions?”
“Only one. Can you make time slow down?”
He stood while Mia slid her laptop into its case. “I can do a lot of things, but that’s not one of them. Good luck with the flowers.”
“We won’t need luck when we’re working with Becky. She’s one of the most creative people I know.”
Stan held open his office door. “I’ll contact you at the end of the week. If you need anything, just call me.”
“I will.” She quickly looked around his office, grinning at his puzzled expression. “I’m making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Have a great week.”
He stood in his doorway, watching her speed down the corridor.
“Is everything okay?” Gina asked.
He tore his mind away from Mia. “I think so. Mia suggested changing the focus of our advertising campaign. She wants us to talk to some of the neonatal parents and share their babies’ stories.”
“That’s a great idea. Who’s going to contact the parents?” She took one look at Stan and sighed. “Okay, but you’ll need to help me with the interviews. Are there any parents you want me to contact first?”
He thought about the families he’d already met as part of the redevelopment. “The McKenzies, the Ashburtons, and the Bartletts were part of the focus group we worked with. See if they’re interested in having their stories shared with the wider community.”
Gina wrote something on a piece of paper. “If they’re not, I’ll email some of the other parents.”
“Thanks.”
“Have we got enough time to interview everyone? The report for the board of directors is due by the end of next week.”
“We’ll have to make time.” Stan wasn’t sure if any of this would work, but he was determined to do the best he could. He didn’t have a choice, especially when more than one life depended on it.
***
By the time Mia made it home from Becky’s flower shop, it was nearly five o’clock. Their meeting had been productive, but it meant she had less time to work on her paintings.
She rushed into the kitchen, made herself a sandwich, then headed upstairs to the studio.
As soon as she’d bought her home, she’d converted the attic into a light-filled work area. With lots of storage and more than enough wall space to display her paintings, it was the perfect area to create her landscapes.
Leaning against three separate easels were the canvases she was finishing for her exhibition in San Francisco. They were different from the paintings she usually created; so different that she was worried no one would like them.
Her doorbell rang and Mia sighed. If she didn’t put aside more time to paint, she wouldn’t have anything ready in time. She looked through the window. Her grandfather’s car was parked in the driveway.
With one last look at her paintings, she headed downstairs and opened the door. “Hi, granddad.”
Nick Costas wrapped her in a big hug. “I tried calling you, but you weren’t home.”
“I had a meeting with Becky. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“That would be good.” He bustled down the hallway, quickly making his way into her kitchen. “I had a call from a gallery in Los Angeles. One of their clients has asked about your paintings. They want to know if you have any canvases available.”
“Have you sold the two paintings in your gallery?”
The smile that Nick sent her could only mean one thing.
“You only had them on display for a week.”
“I have collectors contacting me from around the world. I negotiated a final price with the purchaser this afternoon.”
“One person bought both of them?”
“Of course. Your canvases belonged together.”
Mia filled two mugs with coffee. “I hope you didn’t sell them for the price you first told me.”
“Would I do that?”
Her grandfather would definitely sell her paintings for ridiculously high prices. “I would have been happy to accept two thousand dollars for each painting.”
Nick shook his head. “What is the matter, Mia? You can provide an accurate valuation of any artist’s work except your own. The buyer paid eight thousand dollars for your paintings.”
“Eight? That’s amazing.”
“It is no less than they are worth. They are going to Sydney, Australia.”
She handed her grandfather a cup of coffee. “Thank you. I need to spend more time painting, don’t I?”
“It is your choice what you do with your life, my darling. You are a talented artist, but it is up to you what you do with that talent.”
Mia sipped her coffee. “I guess now would be the wrong time to tell you that I don’t know if I’ll meet my deadline for the exhibition in San Francisco.”
“Mia.” The disappointment in her grandfather’s voice made her heart sink. “What is stopping you from finishing the paintings? You were so excited when you told me about them.”
“The hospital still hasn’t found someone to replace their fundraising coordinator. Stan Lewis, the director of the hospital, asked me to help him organize the gala for the new neonatal unit.”
Nick scowled. “It is my fault. I shouldn’t have suggested you help Claire and Hannah.”
“It’s not your fault, granddad. Stan asked me to help him. I wasn’t going to, but then he showed me the new neonatal unit. It will make a huge difference to our community. I couldn’t help but remember what Tommy’s parents went through when he needed surgery. If a baby is born with a life-threatening medical condition after the new unit opens, they might not have to travel to a different hospital for surgery.”
“You are a good girl, but sometimes you need to look after yourself.”
“You would have done the same thing, granddad.”
Nick nodded. “You are right, but I do not have paintings that need to be completed. The exhibition will showcase your work to a lot of people. It is not selfish to follow your dreams.”
She understood what her grandfather was saying, but following her dreams meant taking risks. And if there was one thing that scared her senseless, it was stepping out of her comfort zone. Helping Stan had been bad enough—becoming a full-time artist was worse.
“When Stan finds a person to replace me, I’ll have more time.”
Her grandfather’s bushy eyebrows rose. “And you think this will happen in the next two months?”
Mia held her cup of coffee to her chest. “No.”
“Then I will help,” Nick exclaimed. “Never forget that we are Greek, little one. We are strong in mind and spirit.”
Even though Mia felt miserable, her granddad’s words made her smile. She hugged his broad shoulders, knowing she was lucky to have him in her life. “We are family and family sticks together.”
“Exactly. Always remember that your pappouli loves you.”
“I know, granddad. I love you, too.”
Nick wiped a tear from his eye. “That is good. Now, before we talk about the gala, I must see your paintings.”
Mia sighed. “Do you promise not to growl at how little work I’ve done since you last saw them?”
“I will hold my growl for another time. Come, we will see what needs to be done.”
With a reluctance she never thought she’d feel, Mia followed her granddad upstairs. Her excitement for what she was creating hadn’t changed. But her confidence in finishing the paintings on time was at an all-time low.
It would take more than her granddad to make sure her paintings were ready for her exhibition—it would take a miracle.