There was no such presentation.
Instead, Issam came in with six members of his team, who proceeded to grill her about the intelligence she had. How many people were staying in the fort. How long they had been using the ancient building as a shelter. What countries the women and children were from. Had any supplies been provided? If so, from who, and when? What level of supplies were needed?
And this was how it went, for a frustratingly short thirty minutes every day. Mackenzie never had time to ask her own questions, and the moment she tried, Issam rushed her off to yet another wedding appointment.
Today’s appointment was with the florist, and she simply couldn’t pay attention. Daya and Adira were at a separate fitting for the event, and Mackenzie’s eyes slid over the pages of the catalogue on the table in front of her.
The florist, a woman named Sahr, noticed.
“Is something on your mind?” She asked the question rather gently, after Mackenzie had listened to her describe the relative advantages and disadvantages of two of her most popular centerpieces. She had listened, yes, but she hadn’t heard a word, and then Sahr had gone on to say how she’d combined both looks to create Mackenzie’s dream arrangement. “Cold feet?”
“I’m sorry.” Mackenzie shook her head. “It’s not cold feet.”
Sahr grinned. “I wouldn’t think it would be…hard to stay cool with a man like Sheikh Issam.”
Mackenzie thought back to the previous night. Issam had come back from a late security meeting with adrenaline coursing through his blood, and she had thoroughly enjoyed the aftereffects. “I can’t divulge that kind of information,” she told Sahr coyly, raising her eyebrows.
“What can you divulge?” Sahr was an elegant woman in her mid-forties with beautiful dark hair she wore in a coil at the base of her neck.
“I don’t want to bother you with…separate issues. We should concentrate on the flowers.”
“I’ve noticed that many brides need an outlet. Someone who’s not…personally involved in the planning. I’m happy to listen.”
Mackenzie blew out a breath. “It’s not really a personal matter. It’s…more of an international one.” And why shouldn’t
she tell Sahr? She was a professional at the top of her class, among the elite of Al-Dashalid. “Are you aware of the ancient ford at Al-Dashalid’s northeast border?”
Sahr cocked her head to the side. “I’ve heard of it. It’s a national landmark.”
Mackenzie gave her the brief outline: a women’s shelter in a technical no-man’s land between three countries. She left out the military tensions rising between the nations and focused on the people at the heart of the issue: the women and children.
Sahr put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. “Yes. I’ve heard that the fort is on its last legs, is it not?”
“It’s ancient, but it’s not a crumbling ruin. Al-Dashalid has worked to keep the fortress in good enough shape to be occupied. But now that might be…jeopardized.”
The florist’s eyes flashed. “At the expense of the women’s shelter?”
Mackenzie chose her next words carefully. “I haven’t heard of a firm plan to relocate them. But I also haven’t heard of many alternate shelters. The lack of safe places for these women is highly concerning.”
Sahr nodded sharply. “Very concerning. I agree with you.” She bit her lip and looked back down at the catalogue. “I’m not sure how much time you have for our appointment, but perhaps I should show you my design for the centerpieces.”
Mackenzie’s heart beat fast. This was it. This was the silver lining to all the wedding planning. She was meeting with women in the upper echelons of Al-Dashalid’s professional sector, and those women had information. They had connections. She wanted badly to steer the conversation back to the shelter, but she had to find a balance. The wedding was also a priority.
“Yes. I’d love to see the arrangement.” Sahr beckoned to someone behind her, who stepped out, probably to retrieve the sample centerpiece.
“Do you know of any efforts to put together new shelters?” Mackenzie asked quickly. “It seems that this is a problem that could be attacked from multiple fronts.”
Before Sahr could answer, her assistant reappeared with the centerpiece.
It was perfect.
The arrangement was everything Mackenzie could have wished for. As a girl, she’d imagined the details of her wedding when she was finished daydreaming about getting into an Ivy League school for undergrad and law school. But the flowers rising out of the narrow crystal vase didn’t hold much of her attention. The shelter was first in her mind.
“They’re lovely,” she said, forcing herself to study the arrangement. Long-stemmed roses gathered in the center, surrounded by forget-me-nots. Green shoots of something gave it an exotic look. The details blurred.
Once the assistant stepped away, Sahr asked a few questions about the arrangement and took note of Mackenzie’s answers on a tablet she kept by her side.
Then she looked back up at Mackenzie, her eyes shining with a kind of cautious excitement. “We’ve begun working with an NGO that has a special focus on women in Al-Dashalid and the surrounding countries.”