* * *
“Thanks. I’ll have the contract out to you by the beginning of next week.” Donovan hung up, finished making notes on the contract sheet and called in his secretary. It was only Tuesday, and the week promised to be a long one.
“Yes, Donovan.”
He glanced up from the papers. “Monique, I just confirmed the two dates for Monte at the Catalina Island JazzTrax Festival in October and the Nokia Theater in November.” He handed her the papers. “Can you type up the contracts and have them ready for Brad by tomorrow?”
She accepted the sheets and handed him a telephone message. “Sure. Mrs. Lake from the Artistic Inspirations Foundation called again. She wanted to confirm whether Monte would still be conducting the vocal and piano workshops at the upcoming art camp. I told her we’d call her back because I didn’t know if he’d be available since the baby came early.”
The nonprofit foundation worked tirelessly to promote the importance of music and the arts in schools and the community. Thanks to generous donations, every summer they hosted a two-week day camp for students in grades four through twelve to experience the arts. At the end of the two weeks, the foundation put on an art show and concert.
“Okay. I’ll check with him and call her back. Thanks.”
“If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to head out.”
He glanced up at the wall clock to see it was already past five. “No. Have a good evening.”
“You, too. See you in the morning.”
Donovan followed her out to the hallway but went in the opposite direction, toward Terrence’s office. He found Terrence’s secretary standing at the file cabinet. “Hey, Mrs. Lewis. I’m sorry I didn’t get over here sooner.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know you’ve got your hands full. Have you talked to Monte today?”
“No. I haven’t talked to him since last Friday at the hospital.” He’d hit the ground running yesterday and barely had time to show her the pictures of Nadia.
“Well, I know you’ll be dropping by his home sometime this week, so can you take this with you?” She rounded her desk, pulled an envelope from a drawer and handed it to him. “Tell him and Janae I said congratulations.”
“Okay. Is there anything I need to know or anything that has come up?”
“Audrey stopped by earlier and took care of a few things, but other than that, no.”
He nodded. “I won’t keep you, then. See you—”
“What happened to your arm?” she asked, cutting him off.
Donovan followed her gaze to his left arm. He had forgotten that he’d rolled his sleeves up. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
She frowned. “Donovan Wright, nothing wouldn’t require stitches.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him, waiting.
Her tone, as well as the accompanying look, had him spilling his guts about the incident in the hospital hallway.
“Oh, my word! You were lucky. Burns can be nasty. Is the young lady all right?”
“I noticed her rubbing her hip where the cart hit her, but she said she was fine.”
“Thank goodness. I know she’s grateful you were there. Have you checked on her since then?”
He hadn’t and wanted to kick himself for not getting her phone number. “No, but I will. I know it’s quitting time for you. I’ll walk you out,” he said, changing the subject.
She smiled. “Your parents raised such a nice young man. I know they’re proud of you.”
He chuckled. “Thanks. I’ll remind them of that the next time I talk to them. They’ll be glad to know all their hard work didn’t go to waste.”
Donovan walked Mrs. Lewis to her car, then came back upstairs to call Terrence.
“What’s up, D?” Terrence said when he answered.
“Hey. How’s the family?”
“My girls are good. Sometimes I still can’t believe it. I just want to hold Nadia all day, but Janae makes me put her down,” he grumbled.
He chuckled. “I take it she’s spoiled already.”
“I can’t help it. She grabbed my heart the moment she was born.”
A flash of memories crossed Donovan’s mind. “Mine, too,” he murmured. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is Mrs. Lake wants to know if you’re still going to donate your time to the foundation’s art camp this year. It’s the first two weeks in August, three weeks away.”