As she entered the traffic flowing toward the gates of Reed College, beneath the changing colors of the leaves on the stately oak trees, she convinced herself that she needed a professional to guide her decision making. She had debated contacting the credentialed man she had selected for the serious undertaking. Embarrassment and shame percolated within her, yet she nevertheless accepted the decision to involve the professional at Reed.
“There it is, Allie. The Cooley Art Gallery.”
The red bricks, absorbing the abundant sprinkles, glimmered on the elegant old building. The green tiles upon the roof added a Northwest charm to the edifice. On the grass stood a totem pole resembling a gaggle of gnomes climbing toward the sky.
“Do the good people work there?”
Hannah paused, afraid to
