The Promise Page 13

  “Mr. Gray?”

  Matthew looked at the woman walking toward him. “Yes?”

  “I’m Hazel Lewis. Welcome to New York City.”

  He held out his hand, hoping she didn’t notice how nervous he was. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

  “One of my meetings was canceled, so the timing couldn’t have been better. The proposal you emailed me sounds interesting.”

  “I was hoping you’d like it.”

  “I did. Shall we go upstairs to my office?”

  Matthew followed her to the elevators. The Art Deco detail around the doors and on the control panel looked as though they were part of the original building. “This building is impressive.”

  “The Foundation moved here a couple of years ago. It’s one of the landmark buildings in this part of the city. You’ve come a long way to speak to me.”

  “I’ve always believed in doing business face-to-face, ma’am.”

  Hazel blushed. “It’s lucky for me that you do.”

  Matthew kept his expression neutral. Had Hazel just flirted with him? At one time, he hadn’t been opposed to doing a little flirting of his own. But not now.

  The elevator doors opened. He stepped inside and looked at his cowboy boots, hoping he could pull this off. Thank God Ashley couldn’t hear what he would be saying. “Tell me about the Foundation. What projects are you working on at the moment?”

  For a split second, Hazel looked uncomfortable. In the next moment, she was smiling as if Congressman Welsh hadn’t stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars and put the Foundation’s future at risk. With a little more practice, she’d make a good poker player.

  “We’re in the process of transitioning to a different service delivery model.”

  Matthew coughed to hide his surprise. He supposed that having the FBI freeze your money could have a very sobering effect on the Foundation’s service delivery model.

  “That’s why I was intrigued by your proposal,” Hazel continued. “You said you have a personal interest in providing safe and affordable activities for inner-city youth.”

  Ashley told him that the trick to appearing genuine was to answer Hazel’s questions as honestly as he could. He didn’t have to think too hard about his reply.

  “Each year we run three cowboy camps in Bozeman. They’re for teenagers who have never been on a ranch. Some of them have been in trouble—nothing big, but enough to set them on the wrong path. The self-confidence and pride that each teenager goes home with is incredible to see.”

  “It must be very different living on a ranch.”

  “About as different from city life as you can get. Have you ever been to Montana Ms. Lewis?”

  Hazel touched Matthew’s forearm. “Call me Hazel. And no, I’ve never made it as far as Montana, although I have been to Texas.”

  “From where I come from we call a spade a spade. An injection of cash will make all the difference to the Foundation’s youth center project. If you believe all children deserve a chance to make their life great, then you’ll see the sense of what I’m proposing.”

  The elevator stopped on the twenty-third floor.

  Hazel didn’t say anything until they arrived at her office. “What you’ve said makes perfect sense, Matthew. How about I make some coffee? We’ll go through your proposal and see how it could enhance the services we’re already offering at the youth center.”

  He almost sighed. Hazel’s impressive vocabulary was only exceeded by her ability to cover up the truth. He wondered if she knew how close the Foundation was to closing.

  As he made himself comfortable, he doubted she had any idea about what was happening. If she did, she wouldn’t be making coffee. She’d be talking to recruitment agencies, looking for a new job.

  “Here we go.” Hazel’s wide smile made him feel guilty. Underneath the cool, polished, identity she’d cultivated, was a woman who cared about children. He only hoped she cared as much about the truth.

  ***

  After an hour of discussing his proposal, Hazel suggested they visit the youth center. Matthew made a quick call to Ashley, letting her know where he was going.

  So far, everything had gone well. Hazel had started to lose some of her city-slicker edge and Jasmine hadn’t seen him.

  Out of everything that could have gone wrong, Jasmine’s appearance would have sealed his fate. If she thought they were second-guessing the story she’d told them at the ranch, a team of lawyers would be visiting Ashley’s editor within the hour.

  The traffic heading across town was almost as bad as he’d expected. Hazel gave him a mini tour of the sights, pointing out landmarks and telling him about the areas they were driving through. When she parked her car in front of a red-brick building he was almost sorry they were there.

  “As you can see, the youth center isn’t open at the moment.”

  “When does it open?”

  “We can only afford to staff the center three days a week. It will be open tomorrow.”

  “Is three days enough?” He pulled himself out of Hazel’s car and looked along the street. The apartment buildings were functional, multi-level, red-brick, monstrosities. There wasn’t one tree or blade of grass anywhere.

  “We could open the center seven days a week and still be busy.” Her voice sounded sad. “I started working at the Foundation a few months ago. This was the first project I became involved with. The kids were so excited when we opened. A lot of their parents work long hours. They don’t have a lot of money. This is a safe place they can come after they’ve finished school. We help them with their homework and build their confidence with lots of activities and sports.”

  A group of teenagers walked down the street. “What about the kids who don’t go to school?”

  Hazel unlocked the youth center’s front door. “We started programs for them, too. We had tutors who helped improve their reading and writing skills. A group of college students taught a series of computer classes. We even had a day care for young moms and dads. Volunteers taught them the basics of parenting, how to budget, and how to make meals for their children.”

  “You used the word ‘had’ a lot. Aren’t you doing those classes anymore?”

  Hazel ran her hand along a panel of switches. Light filled the entranceway. “We had a funding shortfall. It affected the programs we could continue.”

  “Are the people who work here paid or volunteers?”

  “They’re a mix of both, but mostly volunteers. Some of our volunteers are exceptional. Others come once or twice, then we never see them again.”

  Matthew followed Hazel into a large room. In one corner, half a dozen computers sat on shared desks. In another, full bookshelves were surrounded by beanbags and overstuffed sofas.

  “The kitchen is through those doors. We have a sports center at the back of the building and the bathrooms are on the right-hand side.”

  Matthew knew the kitchen was one of the areas that had suffered from the loss of the grant money. He walked across the room and stood in the doorway. “It looks as though the contractors got halfway through the kitchen, then stopped.”

  Hazel nodded. “We only have one oven and a small counter and refrigerator. The original plans had a full commercial kitchen with plenty of storage. The size of the kitchen limits what we can do.”

  “That must be disappointing.” He left the kitchen and walked toward the sports area. “How many children come to the center?”

  “When we’re open, about forty teenagers come here during the day. After school, we usually see between seventy and eighty children.”

  “Eighty? How do you manage?”

  “The lack of resources doesn’t worry the kids. We keep them busy with lots of craft activities and things that aren’t expensive. The local church donates food and warm clothes for the kids. It’s amazing how much better their behavior is when they have a full tummy.”

  Hazel must have seen the shock on his face.

  “We do what we
can,” she said. “Some of the children who come here are living with parents who are drug addicts and alcoholics. Other families are doing their best, but when you only earn enough to pay your rent, everything else becomes a luxury. We want to break the cycle of poverty, but it isn’t easy.”

  Hazel opened the door to the sports area.

  “Wow. This is an enormous space.” Matthew tipped back his head. The ceiling must have been four stories high. Long, narrow windows ran along three of the walls. Shafts of sunlight fell against the concrete floor reminding him of a cathedral he’d once visited. The room was enormous, imposing, and full of possibilities.

  “The entire building used to be a warehouse. This was the storage and distribution area. The room we came through was the packing area.”

  Matthew ran his eye along the wooden beams and brick walls. “Did the Foundation get an engineer’s report before they bought the building?”

  “I don’t know, but I could find out.”

  “Thanks. That would be great.” He studied the painted lines on the floor. “The kids play basketball in here?”

  “And volleyball and ten-pin bowling. We keep the equipment locked away.”

  Matthew had to stop himself from getting too excited. He wasn’t here to help with the center, he was here to find proof that Jasmine had been having an affair with Congressman Welsh.

  “You said the Foundation owns the entire building. What’s on the floors above us?”

  “They’re empty. Originally the Foundation was going to renovate the rooms into apartments, but they ran out of money.”

  His mind was definitely working overtime now. There must be a way that the Foundation could make this building work for the children.

  “I’ll show you the bathrooms.”

  Matthew’s eyebrows rose. “Why the bathrooms?”

  Hazel smiled as she led him into the first part of the building. “For two reasons. The first is that it’s the only area that was finished before we had funding issues. The second is that it makes a huge difference to the children.”

  “How?”

  “They can have a shower and wash their hair while they’re here. Polly Davies used to be a hairdresser. She volunteers on Thursdays, cutting hair and getting rid of nits.”

  Matthew scratched the side of his head.

  Hazel smiled. “I know. Just one mention of head lice and everyone’s scratching. We’re given free shampoo and treatment kits for the children.” She opened the door to the boys’ bathroom and stood back. “What do you think?”

  He stared at the white tiled room. At least a dozen shower cubicles lined one wall. Basins and heated towel rails lined the opposite wall.

  “Each child is given a toothbrush, towel, and washcloth when they come through the bathroom door. We have soap dispensers in each shower.” Hazel walked out of the bathroom and into another room. “This is the laundry.”

  “You clean the children’s clothes?”

  “No, the children do it themselves. They’re also responsible for their own towels. If they don’t bring a spare change of clothes, we’ve got some clothes they can use. If they’ve got head lice, we’re happy for them to bring their sheets and pillowcases from home.”

  “Don’t the kids feel strange walking down the street with their sheets?”

  “They put them in a bag, so it’s not so bad. Head lice are a fact of life for a lot of kids. Bringing their sheets here is better than sleeping on dirty linen.”

  “You’ve got more than a professional interest in this project, haven’t you?”

  Hazel closed the door. “I lived in a similar situation to a lot of the kids who come here. If it weren’t for someone giving me a helping hand, my life would be completely different. All it takes is one person who cares and your entire world can change.” She cleared her throat and stood in the central activity area. “Is there anything else you’d like to see?”

  Matthew shook his head. “No. You’ve covered everything about the building. I have a few questions about the Foundation, though.”

  “I’ll answer them as best I can. Jasmine Alfredo is in charge of the Foundation. She would be the best person to talk to.”

  Matthew sat on one of the plastic chairs lining the wall. Jasmine was the last person he wanted to talk to.

  Hazel sat beside him, waiting for his first question.

  “If I’m going to invest a substantial amount of money into this project, I want to know that the Foundation is viable.”

  “Viable?”

  He nodded. “There was a funding shortfall on this project. Can you tell me why?”

  Hazel frowned. “Jasmine said an application for a grant was declined. There weren’t any opportunities to apply for more funding, so the rest of the renovation couldn’t go ahead.”

  “Has the Foundation had similar problems on other projects?”

  This time, Hazel looked slightly uncomfortable. “We’re in the process of re-prioritizing our projects. While that’s happening, we’re not starting any new projects or investing capital into existing ones.”

  “When will that process be finished?”

  “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Ms. Alfredo.”

  Matthew nodded. “I have a friend who attended a number of charity events The Reaching High Foundation organized. When I told him I was coming to see you, he was concerned that the Foundation wasn’t a good place to invest my money. Do you know why he might think that?”

  Hazel shook her head. “The Foundation has done some amazing things. Jasmine works tirelessly to make sure the funding we receive goes to the people who most need it.”

  Matthew leaned his head against the wall. “I should have made myself clearer. My friend wasn’t concerned with the Foundation’s projects. He said they’re all extremely valuable. He was more concerned about Congressman Welsh’s involvement. Was he the project leader for the youth center?”

  Hazel’s relaxed smile disappeared. “He was. A few days ago he was arrested.”

  “I read about it in the newspaper. Were the funds he stole directly linked to this project?”

  Hazel dropped her head to her chest. “I think so.”

  “I admire what Jasmine has achieved, but how did she not know what was going on?”

  “I don’t know. They were friends. I guess the line between friendship and business got blurred and she didn’t see what was happening.”

  “Blurred?”

  Hazel’s face turned bright red. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I’m trying to figure out how an educated, talented, woman could have gotten into this situation. If Jasmine approves my proposal, I don’t want the same thing happening again.”

  “It won’t,” Hazel said quickly. “Rumors were going around work about a relationship between Jasmine and the congressman. Someone I know told me it had been going on for months.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “I did. She’s not the type of person to make things up. But Jasmine told me it wasn’t true.”

  “How did your friend know what happened?”

  “She works for the PR company that was hired for a project the Foundation completed last year.”

  Matthew needed a name or something to take back to Ashley. “What was the project?”

  “It was a joint venture with the New York Public Library. The trust we started provides books in homes for all elementary school-age children. It’s a huge undertaking and very successful.”

  “Is the Foundation still involved in the program?”

  “As far as I know, they are.”

  His forced smile was making his face ache. “I guess that’s all I need to know. Thank you for taking time out of your day to help me.”

  “I’m glad I did. Would you like me to make an appointment for you to see Ms. Alfredo?”

  Matthew shook his head. “Not yet. I’d like to fine-tune my proposal before she sees it. I’ll email you another proposal in the next couple of
weeks. I can make an appointment with Ms. Alfredo then.”

  Hazel opened her bag and handed him her business card. “These are my contact details. I’ll look forward to seeing your proposal. Would you like me to take you back to the office or drop you off somewhere else?”

  “If you could drop me off at your office, I’d appreciate it.”

  Hazel frowned. “That’s not a problem. I hope what I said about Congressman Welsh and Ms. Alfredo doesn’t make a difference to your proposal?”

  Matthew swallowed hard. “It won’t. Thank you for being honest with me.”

  Hazel’s smile made him feel worse. He turned and studied the half-finished youth center. Ashley needed to come here. It might make her realize that there were more important things in the world than corrupt politicians and writing front page news stories.

  ***

  Ashley followed Bonnie into the foyer of The Greenwich Hotel. “How did you get Ann-Marie to agree to an interview?”

  “She read the story about Jasmine and wasn’t happy. It sounds as though Ann-Marie has an entirely different opinion of Jasmine.” Bonnie looked around them. “The restaurant is this way.”

  With its stone fireplace, black upholstered bench seats and brick walls, the restaurant could have been transported to New York from the center of London. It had the feel of an old English pub, until you looked through the windows at the people crowding the sidewalk.

  “Where’s Matthew?” Bonnie asked.

  “He went to the youth center with Hazel.”

  “Has she told him who else knew about Jasmine’s relationship with Congressman Welsh?”

  “Not yet. What does Ann-Marie look like?”

  Bonnie walked toward the maître D’. “Short, brown hair, and blue eyes. She said she’d reserve a table.”

  The maître D’ led them to a table overlooking a garden at the back of the restaurant.

  A woman about the same age as Ashley stood and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Ann-Marie Dimitri. You must be Ashley?”