Dance Lest We All Fall Down - Margaret Willson [139]
“And what about liability?” Joyce asked. “Can people there sue us?”
“I suppose so. People are always suing each other in Brazil. You can’t avoid getting sued at some stage. But suing you here in the States? I doubt it. Especially not if you’re working with Rita’s brother. The laborers will likely be illiterate. They might do a local suit, but international—no, I can’t see it.”
As we got ready to leave, Walter came over to shake my hand. He gave me an engaging, open smile.
“We should get together for coffee or lunch sometime,” he said. “It’d be fun to talk about Brazil, about all kinds of things.”
“I’d love to,” I said, and to my surprise, I meant it. A lesson, I thought. Never prejudge anyone. Especially when you’ve made them into someone else’s chess pawn in your own mental chess match.
“Thank you so much for taking the time to come,” Joyce said to Walter. “I feel so much more comfortable about everything now. I appreciate your clarity in explaining things.”
“Did you eat that entire huge sandwich?” Almuht teased him in Portuguese. Walter patted his slim tummy, and they both laughed.
“Until the next meeting,” Henry said. He gave me a civil smile. We both knew then that the tide had turned and that in any resolution regarding the building, the board, except possibly for him and James, would likely now vote with Rita. And partly because of the reassurance of his friend Walter. But I didn’t feel elation. Instead, I felt saddened. I liked Henry. He had done a lot for us. I understood his side and, from his perspective, he was being responsible. I hated maneuvering against him. But this project had been with me too long. I’d put in too much time and, as Rita said, too much heart.
James rang a few days later. “I think I will have to quit the board,” he said. “We have philosophical differences. You believe that in an international organization, everyone should just do as they think best. I believe such an organization has to be an umbrella, with one group working as the central overarching head, controlling all its projects.”
“That’s true, James. We disagree.” I paused. “Thank you for contributing as you have to the board. And I hope we can still be friends.”
“So do I,” James said. “I like you.”
After the day of our walk in the park, Karima officially quit, but continued to come to work, as dedicated as ever—and more pregnant by the day. She spent half her time sleeping on the couch and was impressively efficient with the rest of her time. She said she would go when the baby was born. Selfishly, I dreaded that day.
This was to be the day of the showdown board meeting. But, life is a shape-changer. Whenever I thought I recognized a pattern or direction, it would shift into something completely different.
Mo had e-mailed me earlier in the week to ask if he could chair the meeting, usually my job. He felt that the tension between Henry and me would make it difficult for us to get anything constructive accomplished. I happily handed over the reins. He sent out an e-mail detailing this to the entire board and asking for suggestions for the agenda. He didn’t receive much, so he set the agenda for us to vote on whether we would give Rita liberty to direct the reconstruction of the building as she chose.
“Henry said at an earlier meeting that he just wanted us to properly vote on all this,” Mo said, “that if he lost the vote he would go along with whatever the board wanted. I think he’s honorable and will stick with his word.”
“Yes,” I said. “I think so, too. But I don’t think he’ll feel comfortable if it goes against him.”
Henry had influenced me, however. I had never really thought about the legal ramifications of the board or our actions. I resolved to make this vote a legal, binding part of the permanent Bahia Street bylaws. If this challenge to our infrastructure of equality had happened now, it could happen again. Also, I thought, we have to get moving fast on