she doing here? She should turn right back around and head for home, back to Mark and Sarah and Bryn. Back to the December issue and a Santa Claus feature.
She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and steeled herself for another driving adventure.
The North Pasadena Community Center was a small building of faded yellow stucco with iron bars on the windows. The playground was a blur of running children. At the other end of the building, a group of teenagers played basketball. Corrie pulled her camera from its case and shot a few photos before walking to the door, welcoming the blast of cool air inside after the heat of the California sun.
“I’d like to see Daniel Chapman,” she said to the young woman at the reception desk.
“You and everyone else,” the woman said, not looking up from the magazine in her lap.
“Excuse me,” Corrie said more firmly. “Is Mr. Chapman in?”
The woman raised her head and met Corrie’s eyes, then smiled at Corrie’s stare. Beneath a shock of bright pink, blunt-cut hair, the receptionist’s eyes were a startling hue of brilliant aquamarine, completely at odds with her Asian coloring and features. Her nose, eyebrows, and cheek all bore metal studs. Around her neck she wore a black leather, studded dog collar.
“So, is Mr. Chapman in?” Corrie asked, trying not to stare.
“Yeah, he’s in. Jaden!” The woman yelled down the hallway. A young man’s head poked out from a doorway.
“Where’s Dan?”
“Upstairs, I think.”
“Well, go get him. Tell him . . .” She turned back to Corrie. “What’s your name?”
“Corrie Philips.”
The young woman smiled, then yelled down the hall again. “Tell him Corrie Philips is here to see him.”
The young man strode down the hall and disappeared, leaving Corrie alone with the pink-haired, aquamarine-eyed Asian woman.
“I’m Capri,” the woman said. “And I know who you are.”
Corrie’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Daniel’s great love, from, where is it? Some university in Indiana, right? You came to do the story. He said you would.”
“Coriander Bliss!”
Corrie turned to see Daniel pounding down the hall toward her. He wore gym shorts and a ragged T-shirt. His red hair was plastered to his head with sweat, but he was grinning widely. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“I knew you’d come!”
Daniel pulled her into a fierce hug, then spun her through the lobby. “I knew I could count on you!”
Corrie struggled as her feet lifted from the ground. This was definitely not the professional greeting she had planned.
“Daniel, put me down!”
He lowered her to the ground and dropped his arms abruptly.
“Sorry,” he said. But his grin showed no remorse.
Daniel walked beside Corrie, talking fast. Corrie smiled. He always talked fast when he was excited.
“We serve a mostly Hispanic population. A lot of our kids are in the States illegally, but some were born here. Their parents are almost all illegal. We’ve had to work hard to gain their trust. INS shows up on a regular basis, but Capri usually handles that.”
Corrie took notes and snapped pictures of kids playing games, being tutored, shooting hoops. In one room, a group of pregnant girls practiced diapering dolls. In another, preschoolers played a frenetic game of Simon Says.
“Tomorrow, I’ll set you up to meet with our board of directors,” Daniel said as they walked. “And then you can tour the transition apartments. We have ten units, with three bedrooms each. Kids who are aging out of foster care rent the apartments. The first year they pay a hundred dollars a month, the second year two hundred, the third year three hundred. After that, we hope they’re ready to move out on their own. We’ve had a couple dozen kids go through them already, and most are independent now.
“Hey,” he added, “you should talk to Capri about the apartments. She’s one of our graduates. Maybe you could come to dinner tonight, and
She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and steeled herself for another driving adventure.
The North Pasadena Community Center was a small building of faded yellow stucco with iron bars on the windows. The playground was a blur of running children. At the other end of the building, a group of teenagers played basketball. Corrie pulled her camera from its case and shot a few photos before walking to the door, welcoming the blast of cool air inside after the heat of the California sun.
“I’d like to see Daniel Chapman,” she said to the young woman at the reception desk.
“You and everyone else,” the woman said, not looking up from the magazine in her lap.
“Excuse me,” Corrie said more firmly. “Is Mr. Chapman in?”
The woman raised her head and met Corrie’s eyes, then smiled at Corrie’s stare. Beneath a shock of bright pink, blunt-cut hair, the receptionist’s eyes were a startling hue of brilliant aquamarine, completely at odds with her Asian coloring and features. Her nose, eyebrows, and cheek all bore metal studs. Around her neck she wore a black leather, studded dog collar.
“So, is Mr. Chapman in?” Corrie asked, trying not to stare.
“Yeah, he’s in. Jaden!” The woman yelled down the hallway. A young man’s head poked out from a doorway.
“Where’s Dan?”
“Upstairs, I think.”
“Well, go get him. Tell him . . .” She turned back to Corrie. “What’s your name?”
“Corrie Philips.”
The young woman smiled, then yelled down the hall again. “Tell him Corrie Philips is here to see him.”
The young man strode down the hall and disappeared, leaving Corrie alone with the pink-haired, aquamarine-eyed Asian woman.
“I’m Capri,” the woman said. “And I know who you are.”
Corrie’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“Daniel’s great love, from, where is it? Some university in Indiana, right? You came to do the story. He said you would.”
“Coriander Bliss!”
Corrie turned to see Daniel pounding down the hall toward her. He wore gym shorts and a ragged T-shirt. His red hair was plastered to his head with sweat, but he was grinning widely. She couldn’t help but smile back.
“I knew you’d come!”
Daniel pulled her into a fierce hug, then spun her through the lobby. “I knew I could count on you!”
Corrie struggled as her feet lifted from the ground. This was definitely not the professional greeting she had planned.
“Daniel, put me down!”
He lowered her to the ground and dropped his arms abruptly.
“Sorry,” he said. But his grin showed no remorse.
Daniel walked beside Corrie, talking fast. Corrie smiled. He always talked fast when he was excited.
“We serve a mostly Hispanic population. A lot of our kids are in the States illegally, but some were born here. Their parents are almost all illegal. We’ve had to work hard to gain their trust. INS shows up on a regular basis, but Capri usually handles that.”
Corrie took notes and snapped pictures of kids playing games, being tutored, shooting hoops. In one room, a group of pregnant girls practiced diapering dolls. In another, preschoolers played a frenetic game of Simon Says.
“Tomorrow, I’ll set you up to meet with our board of directors,” Daniel said as they walked. “And then you can tour the transition apartments. We have ten units, with three bedrooms each. Kids who are aging out of foster care rent the apartments. The first year they pay a hundred dollars a month, the second year two hundred, the third year three hundred. After that, we hope they’re ready to move out on their own. We’ve had a couple dozen kids go through them already, and most are independent now.
“Hey,” he added, “you should talk to Capri about the apartments. She’s one of our graduates. Maybe you could come to dinner tonight, and
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