Chapter Three

Number ten, Sayreville street was like any other ordinary building in the neighbourhood. The downtown part of Delaware. On its side, were two shops replete with very fancy signboards and colourful items displayed in the windows.

Maxwell spotted a red sign board emblazoned with Oakland Community Project in golden lettering and white edgings. Checking his notepad to be sure he was at the right address, Maxwell pushed through the glass door to see a relatively small space occupied with chairs and tables in one corner of the room, a movable shelf in one corner and a front desk adjacent the door. A young blond lady looked up from where she sat, a bright smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”

Maxwell looked around to see if there was any other person around. He didn't want to imagine that this lady was her. “I'm looking for Ms. Williams. I am Mr. Harold and I understand she's the manager of this place.”

“Yes, she is. Is she expecting you?”

Apparently, Ms. Blonde didn't know him well enough or was probably new to town. Maxwell couldn't count the number of times he had appeared at certain places, mentioned his name and had everyone turning to look at him. Here he was comfortably invisible. Only for how long? Maxwell hesitated, regretting that he didn't call in advance.

“No.” he admitted. “It's actually on short notice I had to come and see her.” Silently, he prayed that the lady in question was a nice understanding person who wouldn't snap at his surprise visit.

“Have a seat please while I go and notify her.” Lillian gestured to a brown leather couch and disappeared into the room by the side, emerging minutes later while he took the liberty to look around the space. Before he even had the chance to spot her, a lady called from behind him.

“Mr. Harold?” Lilian was back at her seat before she started shuffling some papers off somewhere.

Maxwell swung around to see a young lady dressed in a grey pencil skirt, black frilly blouse and dark hair done up into a messy knot. But she looked good, hot even he thought as he took in her young face and slim figure.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” he took her hand in his which she accepted. Her hands felt small but more than that there was a kind of femininity that radiated from the contact so much that he almost hastily snatched back his hand.

“Afternoon. I was thinking of someone else when Lilian informed me of your arrival,” she said by way of a greeting.

“Mr. Anthony Harold?”

She nodded, seemingly trying to fix the puzzle in her head.

“Well, that's my grandfather. And he asked me to come here because you wanted to discuss some arrangement with him, I believe.”

“Oh, okay. We can discuss it in my office. And the name's Fiona.” She half-turned before looking back at him. “What would you like to have?”

He chose coffee, and when she had finished directing Lillian, she headed into the office with Maxwell on her heels.

Fiona's office was a tad small, Maxwell noted as he scanned the room. She gestured to a chair in front of a medium sized desk which backed a large window that looked out into the street. By the side was another movable bookshelf, a portable chair and a single couch with a cabinet beside it. In the walls were some colourful drawings on the wall that made it lively. What was remarkable was the homely atmosphere he sensed and a beautiful fragrance that permeated the air.

“Lovely office, I must say.”

She smiled warmly, looking up with deep chocolate brown eyes that matched her hair.

“Most of the décor here was done by some of our partners,” she explained.

“And the air freshener?” He hadn't smelt anything like that before.

“Oh, that's from the women we support. They have some knowledge in making handcrafts and things like that.” She pointed to a lone jar on a coffee table with flowers. “That's the source.”

He smiled.

“So did Mr. Harold discuss anything with you?” she asked in a crisp tone. She wasn't one to hide from dealing with issues, Maxwell thought.

“Only barebones. Nothing more than a notification sent through email. But I would appreciate hearing what you have to say.”

At that moment, Lilian entered with a cup of coffee on a tray and set it down in front of him before disappearing again.

“Well, not to take much of your time since I would expect you are quite busy, I will give you a summary. I am a nurse by profession and my younger sister, Cassie, is an interior decorator with her own business, just down the street. However, we both manage this community project where we look at creating opportunities to help kids with educational resources and extra curricular activities from poor neighbourhoods and families. We do have other projects for the elderly and physically challenged but they are really minor.

He sipped his coffee, stood up and began to pace the room. Fiona tried not to think of him being a difficult client. Well, his grandfather that she knew well wasn't one. Maybe his grandson was like him. She blinked when he asked a question.

“How long have you been in charge?” he asked, peering at a rather entering bouquet of flowers sitting on the edge of a wall table.

“Ten years officially. Twelve years since I started with our first client.”

She talked about a variety of stuff that they did and was surprised to see his genuine interest in their activities.

“So you basically run it as a not not-for- profit thing?”

She nodded. “We are registered if you want to be sure about our authenticity.” And she began to pull out some files from drawers which she handed over to him.

Maxwell looked through the papers and though his face remained expressionless, she had the feeling he was impressed so far. Other prospective patrons she had met had either been bored about her proposal or outright disinterested in the organisation.

“You do have a lot going on,” he said at last. “Although, we might have to consider making some rearrangements with where the money goes..” he noted her sudden alarmed expression. “Which we're going to discuss further on,” he hastily added.

“You are in support of the initiative.” It was a question more than a statement.

He smiled in agreement. “Your sister around?”

“Well no. She went to see a client some hours ago. I expect she will be back later in the afternoon.”

Maxwell glanced at his watch, 12:45 p.m. He needed to be back in the office soon before things went haywire.

“Tell you what, we will fix another time to meet, probably for breakfast or lunch and have some talk about this. Hopefully, your sister should be available by then,” he said.

“Sure. I will see when we can fix it.”

He picked out a card and pen from his pocket, scribbled a number at the back. He didn't think twice about it as he handed it to her. “My private number is at the back.”

She smiled as she took it. “I will certainly give you a call,” she said as he finished up his coffee and moved to the door.

“By the way, is your assistant new in town?” he asked, with his hand on the door knob.

“Yes. She only started working with us last month. Why?” A question like that was something else she noted.

“Nothing, just curious.”

When he was out the door he strode past Lilian with a farewell greeting and drove off in his car.

“Who was that man?” Lilian asked, startling Fiona. “You were nearly all over the place when you saw him.”

Fiona's face flushed with embarrassment at the thought that her assistant had seen her close observation of their guest. With as much confidence as she could muster, she replied nonchalantly, “Mr. Anthony Harold's grandson. And I wasn't all over the place,” she frowned.

“Just surprised that it was him and not his grandfather that came.”

She took in Lilian's still puzzled expression. He was the grandson of one of the wealthiest men in the city and she happened to know only his grandfather personally but not the man who had just left, she explained.

Lillian’s eyes went round. “You don't mean it. Where did you get to meet someone like him?”

It was some years back when the senior Harold had launched his humanitarian initiative dealing with victims of gun violence, domestic abuse and child trafficking.

“And he’s going to help out with the necessary funding to keep us going?” Lilian asked, failing to keep the edge of anxiety out of her voice. Like her, they were worried about closing down operations if they couldn't find any more sponsors and ones who would make the financial burden lighter. The patron who had withdrawn earlier in the day was only one of several who had done so.

Fiona agreed, and added that it would also include her sister’s business.

“And, how did the discussion go?

“Well, but we haven't sorted out the specifics yet.”

“Which means for now we can still continue to run our programs.”

Fiona nodded. And for the first time that day her heart felt light.