Page 120 of Ripple Effect
* * *
“I’m so nervous.”Libby twists her fingers together as we all sit in the back of the car taking us to the Harman Center for the Arts where the annual Premier Design Awards are being held. Deja Vu is nominated for the complete overhaul of the 80,000-square-foot space that now houses the mid-Atlantic headquarters of Hudson Investigations.
“You shouldn’t be,” Keene declares.
“Normally I’d tell Keene to stop being so arrogant, but he’s right, Libby.” Ali reaches over and pats Libby’s knee. “It’s a spectacular space.”
“It must pain you to say Keene’s right,” I joke.
“To no end, Cal.” Ali beams a smile at me.
We all laugh, but I still feel Libby’s anxious movement. “Libs? Aren’t you the one who told me just being nominated is a huge honor?” I slide my arm over her shoulder and squeeze.
She rests against me. “It is. It’s just…I don’t just want to win just for me.”
“Is it because of all the people you had working on the building?”
“Something like that,” she says mysteriously.
I frown but don’t get the chance to say more as we pull up. Our door is opened by a helpful valet. Keene helps Ali from the car. Quickly, I slip out and hold my hand out for Libby, who looks brilliant in a black maternity suit with a shiny silver camisole beneath it. My heart quickens. Silver? She hasn’t worn anything silver since she was pulled from the ocean after she was aboard theSea Force.
What’s going on?
Taking her hand, I feel the fine trembling she’s trying to hide. I squeeze it. Just as we enter the glass doors, I lean down and whisper, “I love you, Libby. Always.”
Her hair is pulled back from her face with a pair of combs. It’s rippling down her shoulders like perfect mahogany waves. But her eyes are filled with every minute of love we’ve ever shared since the moment we’ve met. “I love you too, Cal.” Turning, she lets out a nervous breath. “Let’s do this.”
* * *
A little less thantwo hours later, the awards for designs in the 60-100,000-square-foot space are being announced. It comes as no surprise to me when “Project: HI DC Headquarters” is announced as the winner. Nor am I terribly surprised when Libby’s hand claps over her mouth as she’s overcome with emotion.
She and the members of her design and construction team stand to head toward the stage to receive the award. I’m applauding and whistling as Libby takes the stage. She’s handed a black frame that almost dwarfs her luscious frame. And the spotlight catches the light off the silver camisole peeking above it.
“Thank you all so much.” Everyone sits down as Libby starts to speak. “You all know the pressure to go through the blind bid process; imagine my surprise when I found out exactly what I was bidding on! I didn’t know who the client was, only to find out it was my husband’s company.” She’s interrupted by the titter of laughter around the room. Leaning back into the microphone, she tacks on, “Trust me, it’s much harder than you think to design this kind of space knowing the kind of work your husband does every day. Because it has to be perfect. Lives are on the line. I should know. At one point, mine was one of them.”
Silence descends upon the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ali reach for Keene’s hand. Libby keeps talking. “Ten years ago, the week we cut the ribbon on the DC headquarters of his new office, my husband and some of his colleagues saved my life and the lives of twenty other people on theSea Force. The work they do requires long, arduous hours. And it often requires sacrifice as these men and women often spend time away from their loved ones to save people they’ve never met. People like you and me.”
My eyes begin to sting as Libby continues. “When I designed HI DC, I knew the workspace had to be slick, but there had to be places to unwind. Technology was paramount as were state-of-the-art training facilities. And above all, I wanted to create a space where the men and women who worked there would always remember who they were fighting for.” Libby takes an enormous breath. “So, I designed the saltwater reef in the lobby. After all, water is probably the best demonstrator to remind people that no matter what happens, you can recover from the effects of what happened to you. Rippling water is always moving, always changing—just like life is. And these men and women are determined to alter the course of people’s lives for the better.”
From my seat in the fourth row, I’m certain Libby can’t see the tears I can taste on my face. She goes on. “What made the HI DC project even more special was the contractor I had the pleasure of working with. Again, as if it was meant to be, this contracting firm had only recently expanded their business to the mid-Atlantic from Texas. It must have been fate when she put her bid in. Then again, maybe it took her father that long to be able to let her out of his sight considering she looks so much like her mother.” Libby smiles. There’s a tinge of sadness to it.
The anxiety.
The silver.
The woman standing just behind my wife who she beckons forward has long blonde hair.
And I don’t know how I know, but I do. And I want to run up on stage and kiss my wife senseless for her vast pride, her overwhelming courage, and her constant ability to show the world she’s a survivor.
And so is Linc’s family.
“If it wasn’t for the incredible wisdom of McCallister Construction about all the necessary security requirements, headed by the amazing project lead, Bethany McCallister”—Libby confirms my guess as her voice moves on and gets stronger—“the things we wanted to accomplish would never have been possible. So, my profound thanks to them. To my own design team—Stacie, Jennifer, and Milicia, every day I’m grateful for each and every one of you. Deja Vu DC would not be the same without your brilliance. And of course, none of this would have been possible without the support of our family and friends.” Holding the frame aloft, she calls into the microphone, “Thank you all very much!”
Everyone stands up again as the entourage leaves the stage. Before I can do more than lay my lips to Libby, they’re announcing nominees for the Pinnacle Award.
“Oh, God,” Libby whispers.
I take the frame from her and just hold her hand.
