Later that week
Berker and Cynthia Thomas arrived at Gates Hall unannounced, and knocked on the door of Snowfeather’s room. When the door opened, Berker’s gaze shot like a targeting laser across the room. There she spotted Vince Marconi, Snowfeather’s boyfriend, sprawled on the bed. A problem. “Oh, are we interrupting anything?” Berker asked sweetly.
“Hi. This is Vincent Marconi,” Snowfeather said. Vince was a wiry young man with a faintly amused expression and short black hair. He glanced at the two intruding women and shifted on the bed, making no effort to get up. “He’s finishing law school and has been volunteering his time with the Environmental Coalition. Vincent, this is Louise Berker and Cynthia Thomas.”
“Right,” he said, slipping off the bed. “I’ve been getting very involved with the environmental movement.” Vincent winked at Snowfeather. The son of a third generation police officer, Vince was the tallest in his family and the first to attend law school. “Hey, good to meet you,” he said holding out his hand. His grin was irresistible…except to Berker.
“Our pleasure,” Berker said, unfazed by Vince’s natural charm. “Snowfeather, I just had an idea. Could Vincent spare you for about ten minutes?”
Vince shrugged, looking at his watch. “Be my guest,” he said, scooping his laptop and papers and loading them into his backpack. “I was getting ready to go back to my place, anyway.”
At the door, Snowfeather exchanged a special look with him, whispering: “Sorry, I’ll call later.”
“I’ve got to work at the restaurant tonight until one,” he whispered. “Call tomorrow, okay? Tell me all about it.”
She kissed him firmly and watched sadly as he disappeared down the hall. He walks like a cop, she thought. “All us Marconi guys do,” Vince had said. “Old Mafia tradition.” Then he had laughed uproariously.
Inside the room, Snowfeather dropped on the bed her boyfriend had just vacated and stared at the two intruders. Without invitation, Cynthia sat on the edge of the desk and Louise took the study chair. “We’ve been talking,” Berker said. “You can be most valuable to the movement at a certain distance.”
“You’re sending me back to Idaho?” No humor with these two…none, Snowfeather thought. “What exactly do you mean—‘distance’?”
“Your friend, Vincent, is a good example of the kinds of people who can support the larger goals but might not understand or respond to our particular message.”
“We need a big tent,” Cynthia said.
“You need a teepee?” Snowfeather allowed an ironic twinkle to invade her well-practiced deadpan. Not a flicker, she thought.
Berker flushed. “I meant we need a new organization, one with a wider scope of appeal, a less narrow audience.”
“I knew what you meant,” Snowfeather said. Yup. No funny-bone at all.
“So we have a new office for you,” Louise said. “For the new organization.”
“Downtown,” Cynthia added, “near Price, Farthwell, and Longworthy.”
“How did you get space so quickly?”
“Rex Longworthy arranged the details,” Berker said. “Easy walking distance to his firm, in fact. Maybe your friend, Vincent, could get a summer job as a law clerk.”
“So you are talking about a new organization…for me?”
“Yes. With at least one full-time paid staff person. You will head ‘The Planet Restoration Project.’”
“You will be its spokesperson and Executive Director,” Cynthia said.
“This is cool,” Snowfeather said.
“Excellent,” Berker said. “Then it will be done. The office will be ready in three weeks.”
Snowfeather’s deadpan was gone. She was grinning from ear to ear.
“And about Vincent,” Cynthia added, her tone flat.
Snowfeather was suddenly guarded. “What about Vincent?”
“Social friends can be useful in a movement sometimes,” Berker said, “but this one obviously is not Native American.”
Snowfeather blushed. “You two are experts on Native Americans then? Maybe I should take a course from you.”
“Sorry,” Berker said, smoothly.
“Of course not,” Cynthia interjected. “I, we…just—”
“I have known Vincent Marconi and his family since we were in high school in DC. Why would it matter one way or the other whether he is Native American?”
“It’s just that not everyone can be on the inside,” Cynthia said. She stared meaningfully at Snowfeather. “Do you understand?”
Snowfeather was stolidly silent.
“I’m sure she does,” Berker said. “Right, Helen?”
“Helen? I prefer Snowfeather.”
“Sorry.”
“Of course I get the drift. You are talking about organizational secrets, right?” Berker nodded. “If Vincent doesn’t belong to the organization, there are things he doesn’t get to know.” Berker smiled.
Wow—She grins like a shark trying to imitate a puppy, Snowfeather thought.
“You see, Cynthia,” Berker said, “I knew we made the right choice when we recruited Snowfeather.”
The next ten minutes were spent talking about future meetings, salary and contact lists. When Berker finished, she simply stood. On cue, Cynthia opened the door for Berker. “We are all expecting great things, Snowfeather. Great things.”
——
Gabriel arrived at midnight. He tossed his briefcase onto the sofa and looked across the room. Alice looked up from a book. “She called.”
“I’m sorry I missed her. What’s going on?”
“She’s taking a job with this Gaia organization. Starts in about a month. Part time until graduation. Good money. Her own office.”
Gabriel noted that Alice didn’t look very happy. “Sounds wonderful,” he said. Then he studied Alice’s face. “I’ll bet she’s not coming home for Christmas, is she?”
“She didn’t say that,” Alice said. She was close to tears. “Oh, Gabriel, did I do this? All that talk about working?”
Gabriel walked over and hugged her. “No you didn’t. This has been coming a long time. You know what?” Gabriel stepped back and looked Alice in the eyes. “We have a full-fledged adult on our hands.”
“You don’t look so pleased either.”
Gabriel shook his head. The gesture was a familiar one. Her husband had captured wry humor, resignation, and sadness in a single look. “Hey. We have some time here. If she cancels Christmas on us, we can always fly to Seattle and visit John Owen.”
Alice brightened. “You think?”
“Sure. Not to worry…”