"Then you'll have something in common with most first drafts," she said. He studied her face for a moment, decided she was not making fun of him, and picked up a green crayon. By the time she left, he had drawn a dragon with four crooked wings and a baseball cap. On the back he had written, in careful uneven letters, FOR THE PLACE WHERE PEOPLE GET BETTER.
Another child, a girl named Lila who had been too tired to join the group, asked Claire to take a picture of two hands holding a yellow sun. A teenager recovering from surgery drew a pair of red sneakers on a road leading toward a bright open door. There was no single theme, no polished professional artwork, and no reason to believe the drawings would impress anyone at a formal hotel dinner. They mattered because each child had chosen to make something during a day when so much else was outside their control.
Claire had asked permission from the families before carrying the originals away. The children had wanted the pictures displayed at the Bellwether's forthcoming charity reception, where Daniel's new hospitality company planned to announce support for family accommodations near hospitals. She promised that the drawings would be treated respectfully and returned when the children wanted them back. She slipped them between two sheets of cardboard and tied the bundle with a blue ribbon Lila had insisted on choosing herself.
At the end of the visit, Jonah asked whether the place in Chicago would be nice. Claire said she hoped it would be, and he asked whether the people there would understand his dragon. She told him the drawing had already made her smile, which was more than most expensive things managed to do. He accepted that as an adequate recommendation and went back to coloring the sky purple.
The hospital's program coordinator, Dr. Maya Ellis, walked Claire to the entrance. Outside, a delivery truck was blocking the curb, and the sky had the flat gray look that meant the afternoon would probably turn wet. Maya thanked Claire for coming when there were easier ways to show support than spending hours in a children's ward. Claire said the visit had not been a sacrifice; the children had been generous with her.
"Do you want me to arrange a car in Chicago?" Maya asked. "Daniel's people would do it in a minute."
"That's why I'm not telling Daniel's people," Claire said. "I want to surprise him."
Maya laughed, and then she grew serious. "Keep those drawings dry. Lila asked three times whether they'd reach the hotel."
Claire tucked the bundle deeper into her canvas bag. She promised again, with the sincerity she reserved for promises made to children. At the airport, she bought a sandwich she barely ate and a bottle of water that leaked into the outside pocket of the bag. Her phone battery dropped through its last few percentages during an extended call with a family whose child was awaiting another difficult appointment, and by the time her plane landed in Chicago, the screen had gone black.