I turn to the sound of my name, ripping my gaze from Jules and Gus, who are managing a steady stream of admirers. Aside from a slight red-tinge to her eyes, there’s no evidence that she was crying earlier. A woman on the make-up team was nice enough to help Jules fix her mascara and everything else before Gus got back to her, so she could cover just how much his wish affected her.
We’re in a large room for the show’s after party, and I’m standing near the refreshments, trying to give Jules room but being available if she needs me. Gus ran to us after the filming wrapped up and threw his arms around Jules first, then around me, asking if I saw him on TV.
Now, people sip drinks and talk about the show. Some of the other guests from other segments talked to Gus, telling him he did a great job. Jules smiled through the whole thing, hiding well the way the interview affected her.
Of course she did.
“I am,” I say, taking in the man that stands before me. Tall and wiry, the management type, sticking his hand out to mine. My father’s training kicking in, I reach and out take it, shaking once, firmly, before dropping it. “Something I can do for you?”
“Ian Nelson,” he says, jerking his head in Gus’s direction. “You here with them?”
I don’t like answering so many questions. “I am.”
“I’m in charge of charitable outreach and fundraising for the channel,” Ian says, straightening his glasses. “I heard about that financial trouble over at the clinic.”
Now, I fully turn to him, looking him up and down. Wearing a worn fleece jacket over a plaid shirt, his bald head shining, the shadow of the hair he once had in a semi-circle over his ears. A pointed nose I’m sure did him no favors in grade school.
“You did?”
Ian shrugs, “Finance and fundraising circle talk, I guess. I’ve got a proposal for you.”
When I stare at him expectantly, he laughs nervously, his eyes widening, “Oh, you want to talk about it now?”
“Good a time as any,” I say, glancing back at Jules and Gus, before returning my attention to him. “What is yourproposal?
“Today, Tomorrow always does something for the holidays, picks a local organization. Looks like his mom’s Instagram hasalready exploded with followers, and I’m willing to bet that if you make the kid one of his own, it will take off, too. Augustus obviously just did a pretty good job of tugging on heartstrings there—I think we should capitalize on that.”
My first reaction is to grimace at a statement like that—as though Gus was trying totug on heartstringsrather than just being a genuine, charming kid. But I get what Ian is saying and reluctantly continue the conversation.
“And how would you do that?”
“I’m thinking a Christmas play with some other well-known kids from the city,” Ian says, rocking forward onto his toes. “I ran it by the execs, and they love the idea, even more if we can get Gus in the lead role.” We could do a BHC collaboration and even get some kids in from the hospital.”
The PR people over at the hospital aren’t going to be happy about doing the work on such short-notice, but I can already see how good this could be for the clinic. A little extra money between now and when I can get the inheritance money in. The winter months are always the busiest—falls on ice and slips in snow, illness and flu coming easier, especially to the young and elderly.
“What about kids from the hospital?” Jules asks, and I turn to see her and Gus at my side. Like it’s a place they return to often. Ian takes a step back to create a circle, glances at me, then to Jules, telling her about his idea.
She looks unsure, glancing down at Gus, who’s standing with one hand wrapped around her knee, his dinosaur in the other.
“What do you think, honey? Did you like being on TV? Would you want to do a play, like you did at school?”
Gus doesn’t pretend to think it over. He just shrugs, not bothering to look up from the toy in his hand, like it’s not a big commitment at all, “Yeah.”
Jules raises her eyebrows, then glances between me and Ian. “Okay. I mean—we’ll need more details, but if he wants to do it…?”
Then she looks to me, and I realize that, once again, she’s asking for my pediatrician’s opinion. I look at Gus, who seems completely calm, just like he was answering the talk show host’s questions.
He’s a natural in front of the cameras.
“As long as he’s up for it,” I say, feeling the weight of my opinion being included in this decision. “Then I’d say go for it.”
“Go for it!” Gus repeats, and Ian laughs, shaking his head likethis is too good.
“Great,” he says, nodding at us. “I’ll email you the details.”
“Great,” Jules says, smiling up at me, looking impossibly pretty in her green dress, under the lights. “I guess we have a little starlet on our hands.”
Our hands.
