I thought about calling Suzanne Miller before I dropped by, but I wanted to see her face when I spoke to her. There were too many times when I was convinced I lost out by not being able to gauge a person’s nonverbal cues. And now was one time when I needed all the information I could get.

Before I left the house this morning, I’d gone to the Fairfax County Government’s website and spent a few minutes surfing around. Found the home page for the County’s Parks and Recreation Services Division, and drilled down until I found Suzanne’s name on the contact page: Assistant Director of Recreational Facilities Development and Acquisition. A mouthful, but there wasn’t any additional information about what she actually did. I guess I’d have to ask her.

I drove from Lev’s place to the Fairfax County Government Center, a multi-building complex that housed most of the county’s administrative offices. When the first building had been erected, it had only been partially filled, and the local press had stirred up a ruckus about wasted tax dollars. Now, fifteen years later, several other buildings had been built to handle the load generated by the county’s population explosion, with more in the offing. Not that I was complaining. That explosion had fueled much of my father’s success.

I entered through the revolving front doors of the imposing horseshoe-shaped main building and shook the snow from the hood of my parka, the one I’d “borrowed” from my father. I passed by the watchful eye of the security guard and found the building directory where I looked up Suzanne’s department. Took the stairs to her office on the second floor. A young dark-haired man dressed entirely in black sat behind a counter, poring over a series of blue-lined architectural drawings. When he saw me, he smiled. “How can I help you today?” he asked in a cheerful voice, as if he were about to break into song.

“Hello. I’m looking for Suzanne Miller. Is she in?” A strong chemical smell wafted up from the drawings.

“Oh, sure. Suzanne is in. Who shall I say is visiting?” He was far too upbeat for a government drone. Maybe he was a temp, or maybe the chemical fumes had gotten to him.

“My name’s Josh Handleman.”

“Okay, Mr. Handleman. It’ll just be a second!” He picked up the phone and punched in four numbers. Announced me like I was a visiting ambassador at an official State Dinner. Then he hung up and flashed his pearly whites. “Follow me. I shall take you to her office!” he trilled. Whatever was emanating from those drawings, I wanted some.

I followed him through the ubiquitous cubicle maze, worker bees tapping away at their computers or chatting on the phone. One guy was tilted all the way back in his chair, eyes closed. Inspiration arrives in different ways.

When we reached the far corner, my guide stopped and let me pass, pointing out Suzanne’s office. It was nice to know she’d risen high enough in the ranks to earn her own workspace with walls and an actual door. When she saw me, she came around her desk and hugged me. I hugged her back, feeling awkward. Back when I knew her better, I don’t think we ever touched. “Wow, this is a surprise.”

I shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood so I thought I’d drop in.”

“Glad you did,” she said, as she offered me a chair and returned to her own. “I’m so sorry about your father. He was a charming man. Tough losing a parent.”

I nodded.

Her sad smile gave way to a more engaging one. “You’re living in San Francisco, right?”

“I was. I’m going to stick around here. For a while at least.”

“Moving the family? That’s a pretty big deal,” she said.

I shook my head. “Getting a divorce. No kids. I think I could use a change of scenery.”

“And you came back here?” she said with a little laugh. “Have you spoken to Tammy yet?”

“Yeah. Ran into her.”

“Then you know. She came out of the closet a few years ago. Best thing she did. She was so unhappy trying to keep it a secret. I knew, of course, but not too many others did. It was weird. When she made it public, no one really cared. I think it might have hurt her feelings a little.”

“Knowing Tammy, I’m sure she got over it quickly,” I said, pointing at a picture of two little girls on her worktable. “Those your girls?”

She beamed as she followed my glance. “Yes they are. Haley and Madison. Two little imps.” She sighed. “When we were back in high school, we didn’t have a clue, did we? How life really was?” She sighed again. “So what brings you here? I’m guessing you didn’t stop by just to hear the latest gossip.”

On the ride over, I’d gone back and forth about how to broach the subject. Unfortunately, nothing came to me then, just as nothing clever came to me now. Might as well fly direct. “Do you know an old guy named Kassian?”

“A small man with an accent? Very polite? Did something happen to him?” She looked concerned.

“No, he’s okay.” I eyed her. “How do you know him?”

“He’s your father’s friend, right? Or cousin. Something like that.” Her face had relaxed. “Abe was in the building one day—about three or four months ago—and stopped by to see me. Had Kassian with him and we chatted for a few minutes. A couple of weeks after that, he brought him by again. Why do you ask, anyway?”

How to answer? “He’s been spying on you” didn’t seem like the prudent response. “Uh, I was explaining some of my father’s investments and your name came up. He thought he might have met you, but he wasn’t sure, so …” I held my hands out, palms up. Ergo.

Suzanne seemed a little puzzled by my explanation, but didn’t ask for clarification.

I took the initiative. “I’m a little fuzzy. What did my father invest in with you?”

She stared at me for a beat, then smiled. “He really came through for us.” She swiveled in her chair and opened a file drawer in the cabinet next to her. Paged through it and extracted a thick brown accordion file. Plopped it on her desk. “Determination Playground at Cool Falls.”

Now it was my turn to be puzzled. “I’m not sure I follow.” Cool Falls was a landmark in the western part of the county, near where the W&OD Trail cuts into Loudoun County.

“He never mentioned it?” Suzanne said. She seemed disappointed, as if my father had neglected to tell me he’d won the Nobel Prize.

“No. Sorry.”

“Well, he provided the lion’s share of the private investment in the project.” She opened the file and removed a small stack of pictures. Handed them across the desk to me. “Determination Playground is an all-accessible playground catering to physically challenged kids. Specially designed and constructed to accommodate their needs. It really is spectacular. It had always been a dream of mine—I have a challenged niece whom I adore—so my boss gave me the green light.”

I sifted through the pictures as she talked. Red and yellow plastic structures abounded. Slides and ramps, swings and bridges. In the pictures everything seemed new and shiny and clean. I glanced up at Suzanne. Her face lit up as she saw me studying the pictures. Her baby.

She continued, features tightened a little. “Only there was a catch. My boss wanted it to be an example of a public-private partnership. Which meant I had to go out and hustle up some money. For weeks I asked anyone—and everyone—I could think of. They all thought it was a great idea, but no one wanted to pony up. Finally, I heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that your father might be interested in this type of project.”

“And I guess he was,” I said. I’d come back to the first photo, so I squared the stack and placed it on her desk.

“Oh, he was more than just interested. With his backing, we were able to double the scope of the project and package the concept for other donors who want to duplicate our results.” Suzanne stopped and waited a moment to make sure she had my attention. “In the four years since, we’ve been able to put up two other playgrounds and we have two more in the pipeline, all thanks to your father’s help.”

She looked like she was about to shed some tears of joy. “I do feel bad about one thing, though. Not very many people know of his involvement in this. He insisted—adamantly, as I’m sure you can imagine—that his contributions remain anonymous.” She plucked a tissue from a box on her desk and blew her nose.

Glad I asked.