Wash

Chapter 9

I’ll drive, Dad. Why had she offered? Her flight had arrived about an hour and a half ago. Since then she’d basically run a whirlwind marathon. She’d checked into her hotel, met with the owner of the heritage building, gone over dates, and promised she would give the guy a definite location and deposit by the end of the evening. So she had to rush to the hospital and convince her father to see the location. Her gut told her this was the place; now she had to get her father to agree.

Charity parallel parked the car and reached for her purse to get change for the parking meter. They had just spent the last fifteen minutes in silence. She had pretended to focus on the roads; her dad appeared busy on his phone.

She tightened her jacket belt and walked around the car to the parking meter. As her father got out, he slipped his phone into his breast pocket.

“The parking garage is less than a block away.” She pointed in the south east direction. “People will be able to park there. From previous experience, I’ve dealt with a taxi service and have been able to hire two or three drivers for an evening. We pay the taxi a flat fee for the evening. It’s only for driving people home.” They began walking to the old theatre, passing beautiful, old heritage houses and offices as they made their way. “It’s a bit of a cost but a big win in the end. People who have been drinking don’t risk driving, those who took a taxi down get the benefit of not having to pay for one home – which tends to get them spending more at the benefit and it gives them something to talk about. It sounds silly, I know, but it works.”

“It’s a great idea.”

She glanced over at her dad, surprised at the compliment. “I did a charity stint out in LA about two years ago, for a fire station actually. One of the firefighters’ brother-in-law owned an independent taxi service and offered to have three of his drivers work the evening. He paid them their hourly service, got a write-off for the time and money spent, and the drivers made a boat-load off the tips. Everyone was happy, so I tried the same thing at my next contract and it worked great again.” She shrugged, now embarrassed for telling him the whole thing instead of taking credit.

“One of the nurses on the post-op floor… I think her husband owns a taxi service. Or her brother or something.” He shook his head and scrunched one side of his mouth.

Charity knew he was trying to go through a previous conversation and remember who the connection was. He did the same thing when she lived at home and Mom used to always tease him and ask if he was rewinding the video in his brain again.

“It’s her sister’s husband.” He waved his hand. “The nurse’s name is Anne. She’ll be going to tomorrow night’s cocktail party. I’ll introduce you to her.”

“Perfect.”

The concert hall was built out of old limestone, the early nineteen hundreds era of gallant stone and design. Ivy had spent the past few decades trying to take over the outside of the building, but had recently been removed, and the building sandblasted to look like it originally had.

“The new owner is an architect. He gutted everything inside but still kept the theme. Wait till you see it. It’s not completely finished, but Mr. Bott assured me it will be done in the next three to four months. The majority of the construction part is done, it’s just the painting and flooring now.” She pulled a key out of her pocket and a small note with the alarm number on it. “Let me just get this security-thing turned off.” She unlocked the door and slipped inside to punch the numbers in while her father waited by the door.

She flipped a bunch of the switches for the lights on and pulled the heavy original antique door open. “Come and see.”

Her father raised a weary eye as he stepped through the doorframe but his face lit up at the size of the entrance.

“Mr. Bott kept the coat check area original.” She pointed to the oak-sided window with two old wooden openings for people to pass and collect their coats through. “The ceiling is the original double story height, and the main floor is actually below ground. The theatre was built to house most paying customers up here and for drinks and box office seats. Wait till you step through the frosted glass doors and see.” Charity glanced up at the doors, seeing the bright reflection of the chandelier prisms through the frosted glass. Like thousands of diamonds. “Come, see.”

Her father went ahead and held the door for her. His breath sucked in as he stepped through to see the view for himself.

Charity couldn’t wait to read his expression. His eyes actually lit up. Or their brightness came from the chandelier’s reflection that hung not far from them. The floor on this level was a donut shape. A skinny, round donut with a very large center hole. People could walk around, or sit on antique benches. There were original brass bathroom and liquor signs on the outer wall. A brass and cast iron railing ran between each pillar connecting them but still giving one full view of the scene below or across from them. Every angle seemed covered – except for the lower end of the large chandelier. It hid just a small space directly across.

The walls were rough, but large, golden gilded mirrors lay against the walls, evenly spaced. Her father stepped carefully over the unfinished floors and put his hands on the top bar of the railing.

Charity did the same thing. Below, all the original seating and floor plan had been ripped out. Half the flooring had been done in a dark, almost cherry, wood. It looked breathtaking with the chandelier sending zaps of gold and sparkles bouncing off of everything.

“It’s extra bright now with the sun out. At night it’ll seem like we are looking up at the stars.”

“That’s a very large space down there.” Her father continued to scan and scrutinize below.

“We’re going to need it. She pointed to several spots. “I want to have gold banners coming down from up here, all the way to the area below. Mr. Bott said the waterfall will also be ready in time. They are building it in the far corner.” She pointed in the direction. “It’s going to look fantastic.” She could picture the layout in her head already, almost down to the itty-bitty details. Her mother would have loved everything about this place. The pain in her heart made its way to her throat. She had to swallow several times to get rid of it.

Her father’s phone started to ring. “It’s the hospital.” He reached in and answered. A moment later he strode back to the entrance and motioned Charity to follow. “I’ll be right there. Prep the patient for surgery and ask one of the nurses to have my stuff ready. Send his chart and results to my phone right away and I’ll look over it as my daughter drives me back to the hospital.” He stuffed the phone in his pocket. “We need to go.”

“Emergency?”

“Bad accident.”

“Let’s go then. You start walking to the car and I’ll shut everything off and lock up.”

He was already out the door. Charity set the alarm, and after locking the doors, she jogged to catch up to him. They drove in silence again, this time her father intent on his phone, even slipping on a pair of reading glasses Charity never knew he needed. As she turned into the hospital parking lot, he took his glasses off and slipped them in his pocket. “The place will be great. Nice work.” He unclicked his seatbelt. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be in surgery quite a while but just leave a message.” He jumped out and ran through the emergency entrance without saying goodbye.

Charity pulled away from the curb, about to head back to her hotel, when she noticed her father’s phone lying on the passenger seat. She pulled into the visitor parking area and headed into the hospital.

She had to wait for the elevator, and by the time she stepped onto the sixth floor, she knew her father would already be in surgery. He probably went straight to emergency instead of coming up to his office. She decided to try his office anyway.