“There are some matters I would like to discuss,” Roman tells him.
The conversation between the two of them flows from there. Roman is calm, professional, and controlled. He speaks about the foundation, the museum, the donors. Callahan nods along politely.
But there’s an obvious tension underneath.
“And we are of course looking forward to getting IPO back on track—when you’re ready to move forward.”
Callahan’s easy smile fades. “As am I, Roman,” he says. “But it’s tough, I’m afraid. We’re still working through the situation. The recent complications have made the timeline a bit sticky.”
Roman’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Of course. I assume you’ve had a chance to look over the report in response to the city’s inquiries?”
“I certainly have. And it was most reassuring. I have no doubt that whatever the city had in mind, it was an error.”
“But…” Roman leads.
“But it’s still a matter of being spooked. Only time can assuage that. I’m sure things will be moving along before too much time has passed. It’s just a matter of caution. Surely you can understand.”
I can feel Roman holding his temper by the throat and he’s doing it beautifully.
“I certainly can,” Roman says. “And please, rest assured that I am more than happy to do what I can to address all concerns.”
Callahan’s eyes flick to me again, then back to Roman. “Good to hear. Trust me, we’d all like to see this proceed. Assuming it can be stabilized.”
These men don’t care about how Roman feels. They don’t care about his goals beyond how those goals can benefitthem. They care about headlines and optics and risk.
And Roman most definitely has the potential to make headlines.
I step in slightly, close enough to be included but not so close that I’m intruding. Roman’s hand shifts on my back.
“Mr. Callahan, may I ask you something?” My tone is light and causal.
He turns to me, his interest piqued. “Of course, Miss Denning.”
“I’ve been learning a lot about the foundation tonight,” I say, “and about what it funds—like education initiatives and community programs. But I keep thinking that the most powerful thing you could add isn’t another grant. It’s something more permanent.”
Roman’s gaze sharpens as he listens intently.
Callahan’s interest flickers. “Permanent?”
“Yes. I’m thinking a children’s art studio.” My tone warms as I speak. “Here in the Institute or connected to it. Or maybe even a separate building on the property. A dedicated space under the Barinov Foundation. Not just workshops, but an actual studio program. Weekly classes. Supplies provided. And scholarships for kids who wouldn’t normally get access. Trauma-informededucators. A place where children can build confidence and control through creation.”
I can’t believe how easily the words pour out of my mouth.
Callahan’s brow lifts slightly. “That’s an interesting idea.”
“It’s also personal,” I add gently, glancing at Roman for a moment. “Roman’s not just a businessman. He’s also a father. And he’s been there for his son in ways most people can’t even imagine—raising him after he lost his mother, protecting him, showing up every day no matter what.”
Roman is still beside me.
“Think about how it would look,” I continue. “The foundation board doing something real for those who need it the most. I can already picture the sign. ‘The Callahan Studio for Children’s Creative Arts.’ Oh! Or how about this, ‘The Callahan Studio for Young Artists.’”
Callahan says nothing, but I know he’s picturing it in his mind’s eye. He looks at me, then at Roman.
“I would love for you to take the initiative on such a project,” Roman says. “If you feel up to it.”
Callahan stays silent, nodding slowly, his hand on his chin in contemplation. “That could play out very well,” he finally says.
“And it would give you a chance to work more closely with Roman,” I point out. “See how good he is at what he does.”
