I understood why. The medal was her achievement, and carrying the flag was symbolic of the person she’d strived to become and still was, even after all that had happened to her.
She’d been getting ready for the 2012 games when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. That news had changed everything, and it had meant her having one treatment after another: chemotherapy and radiation, surgery after surgery. It had made it impossible for her to train, and she hadn’t taken part in any event since then. I’d read all about it in my research and was completely in awe of her and the person she was.
Me being in town for so long was about capturing all the details of how she felt, her journey, and what she was working towards.
This year was an Olympic year. I’d read that she was training with the mindset to compete but wasn’t ready yet. Instead she’d be doing a series of marathons, the first of which would take place in a handful of months.
Footsteps sounded on the marble floor and I looked up to see her walking towards me.
Breathe, Brooke.
I’d interviewed a few famous people, but no one of her level and social standing.
Dressed in a beige pantsuit, Sally looked stunning. Her dark blonde locks flowed down her shoulders in loose waves, curving around her elbows as she glided towards me. She was in her early forties but could have easily passed for someone in their twenties.
I thought she carried herself with poise and grace, with confidence. That was how I strived to be, and I could see the strength of her personality rippling off her in waves.
But…there was something else I noticed. It was the way she looked at me. Something dimmed in her eyes when she saw me, like the spark had gone out.
“Hi. I’m Brooke Pierce fromPeople Magazine.” I stood up to shake her hand.
She shook mine gingerly, and now the look was replaced with a tentative expression.
“Sally Weinstein, but you already know that.” I detected uncertainty in her voice. “Peoplesent you?” She narrowed her gaze at me.
“Yes, I’m the features editor who will be doing the exclusive on you. I’m truly excited to be here. It’s an honor to meet you.” I thought I would say that since it was the truth. I was genuinely honored to meet her.
“Oh,” was all she said before she sat in the wicker chair opposite me near the potted fan palm.
I sat back down and placed my hands on my knees. I’d brought along a notebook, even though the day was more about getting to know each other and coming up with a plan than me taking a lot of notes.
She looked me over with narrowed, assessing eyes. If she’d been someone else I would have asked her what she was looking at, but I let it go.
“I absolutely love your plants, and the way you designed them.”
“Well, when you have time on your hands, hobbies like this become useful. I had time.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but this is the first year I’ll be back out in the public’s eye, and I want to make sure the story is written properly.” A tight-lipped smile spread across her face. It was crude and a little hard.
“I can assure you it will be written extremely well.” I’d never had to say anything like that. It wasn’t as if I worked for the neighborhood paper—I was a professional coming fromPeopleMagazine, and they didn’t just hire any old person.
“I’m sure that’s what you would say to everyone. Can you tell me a little bit about your background?”
Right…
Again, if she had been someone else, I would have probably lost my cool right about then.
“What do you want to know?” Funny how it was me who should have been asking that question since I was the one who’d be writing about her.
“Where did you go to college? Did you go?”
“I went to Yale, and I studied journalism with a minor in English literature.”
At least she looked surprised to hear I’d gone to Yale, but then most people were surprised by that too.
“How did you get into Yale?”
