A few individuals were capable of changing the world, and he had begun to see no reason why he couldn’t be one of them.
But some things still got to him.
As he entered the hotel lobby, his mouth did dry just slightly at the sight of Annamaria waiting in a casual black dress near the front lobby. He wasn’t sure if his heartbeat had slowed down or sped up, but it was there — oddly conspicuous in his chest. And it hadn’t been just moments earlier. His hands, which had been resting comfortably at his sides, suddenly felt awkward and out of place, before he jammed them into his pockets just to get them out of the way.
He couldn’t help but return the smile she flashed at him, as she tilted her head coyly to the side and whisked an errant strand of shiny black hair away from her eye with her little finger.
“So, how have you been?” Ryan asked, giving her a much more formal hug than he would’ve liked.
“We can talk over dinner,” she said, still smiling. She hadn’t wanted to talk about her trip over the phone. “I got something I think you’ll like delivered to my suite.”
Annamaria’s corner suite was twice the size of Ryan’s “standard room,” and featured a well-appointed living room that was flooded with light from the north and west. A small dining table was nestled up to the north-facing window on the far wall that looked out over rooftops of the adjacent buildings and on to Central Park a couple of blocks away. The little table was dressed with a white tablecloth and set with two plates — no silverware — and two cans of Coke. Occupying the rest of the surface area was the largest silver cloche Ryan had ever seen.
“Come on over!” Annamaria squealed, kicking her shoes off and bounding over to the table on her tiptoes, her silky black hair magically bouncing and cascading with each stride. Ryan consciously slowed himself down, following in her subtly perfumed wake at a casual pace.
Just as he arrived at the tableside, she snatched the cloche up off the table to reveal a still-steaming 16-inch authentic New York pizza, its beautifully thin crust perfectly charred around the edges.
His sputtering attempts at stoicism, which had been faltering for some time, officially died next to that little table. He was almost dizzy, intoxicated by the swirling aromas of basil, mozzarella, and San Marzano tomatoes in the air.
But it wasn’t just the pizza. It was the fact that she’d remembered. He’d mentioned that he hadn’t been able to get a good Margherita pizza in Boston only once — in passing, about two months ago. And it had obviously stuck with her.
They sat together eating pizza and drinking Cokes like a couple of high-schoolers on a first date, albeit in an eighteen hundred dollar a night hotel suite, talking about anything and everything but Avillage.
But when the pizza had been reduced to a few slivers of crust and the conversation finally hit a lull, Ryan reluctantly asked Annamaria how her trip had gone. He knew it would wind up killing the mood, but he had to know everything before he met with Prescott the following afternoon.
She didn’t know how to begin to answer. She’d been physically back in New York for a week, but she still didn’t feel like her trip was over. Emotionally, her journey had started well before she arrived in Panama. She’d hoped it would have ended there. But it hadn’t.
She stood up, took a long look out the window, and then turned back toward Ryan, as beautiful as ever but not quite as radiant. “It was even harder than I thought it would be,” she said.
She told him about the headmaster and the one bad decision he seemed to have made in six years of service — in a spot where there was no right decision. She told him how the children seemed so happy, so well cared for, and, most importantly, loved. How the headmaster had given her a sincere apology. How he hadn’t argued when she’d told him he’d have to resign, only requesting that the kids continue to be loved and well taken care of.
“I went to Panama looking for two things. Answers and revenge. I found my answers. But they weren’t the ones I was looking for. And I never got my revenge. There was no one there to exact it on.
“I’d always just assumed the orphanage would be in even worse shape than when I left it. And I saw myself swooping in as the protector of the poor neglected orphans, exposing layer upon layer of corruption and having the evil headmaster thrown in jail.”
Ryan nodded. He’d had it considerably easier on his trip to the Caymans. “I can tell you that revenge isn’t as sweet as you might think,” he said. “Yeah, there’s some catharsis in it, but it isn’t cleansing.”
“Is anything?”
“I don’t know. Forgiveness? Maybe?” he thought out loud. “But I don’t think it can be at the expense of justice. I honestly don’t think you could’ve handled it better.”
“I don’t know. The main emotion I left Panama with was guilt — overwhelming guilt.” She leaned gingerly on the arm of the sofa, slowly shaking her head, as her gaze fell to the ground. “I decided to give Carlos a month to stay on as headmaster, while he looked for a worthy replacement — which I would have to approve. Normally, he said the government would appoint a headmaster, but he was pretty confident that he and I could pretty much hand-select their appointee.”
She stood back up, took both of Ryan’s hands in hers and led him over to the couch next to her. “From the day I lost my family, the only extended period of time I’ve really felt good about myself — the only time I’ve felt a sense of purpose — was in the three months I lived in that orphanage.
“And I felt it again when I saw those kids. Right away. It had been so long since I’d felt a pull like that, I didn’t even recognize it at first.” She looked down at Ryan’s hands in hers and nervously tightened her grip. For the moment she was quiet, but she clearly had more to say. Ryan hoped she wasn’t building up to a tearful goodbye. As he gave her hands a gentle squeeze back, she looked up to meet his gaze. The boundless depth of her onyx eyes was no less hypnotic than it had been when he’d first lost himself in them a year earlier in his dorm room. If she was working up the courage to ask him something — anything — the answer was going to be yes.
“I remember the four things you told me your parents asked of you,” she said. “Make a difference. Love. Be loved. And be happy. Well…”
She paused.
“I could do all of those in Rainbow City.” Then she demurely dipped her chin, keeping her eyes on his, her hands trembling slightly. “We could do all of them.”
Ryan’s head still hadn’t stopped spinning. Twelve hours ago, he wasn’t really sure how Annamaria saw him. Now she was essentially asking him to move to Panama with her? The mere thought of being with her everyday made his head spin. The thought of being with her had him on the verge of fainting.
But he was eighteen years old! Settling down wasn’t even in his ten-year plan. And running an orphanage was a philanthropic retirement plan for someone like him — after he’d made his mark in the world. His whole life of top-shelf education had to have been leading up to something — and it certainly wasn’t this.
On the other hand, what was he really planning on accomplishing that would be more rewarding than changing the lives of dozens of truly vulnerable children? For obvious reasons, orphans held a special place in his heart. And, like Annamaria, he understood them — better than most people possibly could. Plus, he would thoroughly enjoy sticking it to Avillage and all his shareholders. Maybe he’d float the plan out at the board meeting and see how it went over. His lips curled upward at the thought.