in the shadow of a sunbeam

    Kate Hughes strode through the flurry of activity in the parking lot, her blonde ponytail swinging as she headed toward Conway’s town hall. The sun shone on her face and cast a tall shadow on the pavement behind her. She shaded her eyes and frowned down at the list of names in the notebook she held.
  A group of people passed by, carrying desserts and decorations. They were followed by a stack of empty boxes that were walking out the door, or so it appeared. The man behind them was hidden, only his legs visible. Kate looked up too late. The two figures collided, sending cardboard flying in every direction.
  “I’m sorry!” She winced and scrambled to gather the boxes up, her notebook falling to the ground in the process. “The sun was in my eyes. I didn’t see you.”
  The man scowled and waved her out of the way with a grunt. Flustered, Kate stood and straightened her grey blazer. This time, she watched where she was going.
  Inside the building, the lights were bright and artificial. Kate scanned the room, her green eyes narrowing. Not the worst conditions for taking pictures but not the best either. Next to her, pink tablecloths flapped in the air, snapping as they were thrown over tables. At the front of the hall, a ladder teetered on the platform. The woman balanced halfway up it pinned pink streamers to the black curtains lining the wall.
  Kate checked her watch. Forty-five minutes until the award ceremony was set to start. She looked up again and spotted three middle-aged women who stood clustered together, calling out directions now and then. They fit the description of the recipients of the town’s entrepreneur award.
  “Excuse me.” Kate pushed her glasses up as she approached them. “I’m Katherine Hughes from Women’s Clarity.”
  No one who knew her ever called her Katherine, but she always introduced herself by her full name when she was on an assignment. It sounded more professional.
The women stared at her for a moment, their hands splayed on the hips of their overalls. They wore pink bandanas around their necks, and all had managed to put their hair into victory rolls despite the difference in length. Bright magenta assaulted the eye from every angle of the room, even from their outfits. A bit tacky, but they are cute.
  “Oh my goodness! I completely forgot that you were coming!” The tallest of the three stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Nancy, and these are my sisters—Marlene and Joy.”
  Marlene and Joy smiled in turn as their sister motioned to them.
  “I’m sorry for the chaos,” Nancy said. “There was some miscommunication, and now we’re scrambling to finish setting up in time.”
  Kate had hoped that by being early she’d have a chance to talk with them before the event started. That wasn’t going to happen now. “No worries. We can talk whenever you have a spare moment. In the meantime, what can I do to help?”
  Marlene tipped her head toward the corner of the room. “Well, there are some extra boxes of tools that need to be emptied.”

                                                                 +++

    The ceremony was finally underway. Kate was famished, and the camera that hung around her neck grew heavier by the minute. She was beginning to regret her decision to come straight from work instead of grabbing dinner. Between setting up chairs and following the sisters around, it was turning out to be a long night. Her notes were frantic scribbles that she wasn’t sure would make any sense the next day. Pressing a hand over her mouth, she stifled a yawn.
  The hall had been transformed in the past hour or so. Some tables were lined with glossy toolkits and booklets, an initiative to encourage women to learn about car maintenance. Others were covered in guest books and order forms, and a few were dedicated to a buffet. In the middle of it all, a tall cake was decorated like stacked tires. The fondant almost looked like real rubber.
  Kate tucked her notebook under an arm and made her way toward the fruit platter. Before she could reach for a plate, the lights dimmed and a spotlight drew her attention to the stage. She stuffed a strawberry in her mouth and returned to her place near the front of the room.
     three sisters marched on stage. The neon light behind them cast a magenta glow over everything. Kate lifted her camera and snapped a picture. The flash caught them by surprise and they blinked. She waited a moment, then photographed them again. The second time, their smiles didn’t waver.
    “We can’t fully express our gratitude for each of you who have supported us,” said Joy. “It is truly an honor to live in such a strong community of women.” She continued to gush as the audience nodded their agreement.
  Kate clicked her pen and resumed her hurried scrawl. Can’t she talk a little slower? Her hand ached from writing. Some of the letters had smudged. Sure enough, there was a blot on her left hand. It might have been easier to pull out her voice recorder, but she’d miss too much while she was setting it up.
  “When we were little girls, we could never have imagined ourselves where we are today... Running a business together! I hope that a new generation of girls can look at us and see that their dreams can be realized too.” Joy’s eyes shone as she spoke.
Nancy took the mic and began telling the story of how their business had come to be.
  Out of the corner of her eye, movement caught Kate’s attention. A young girl standing by the food was focused on anything but the speech. Kate’s pen hovered over the page as she watched. The girl stuck her hand in the cake, tearing through the fondant. Chocolate smeared across her face and ringlets as she devoured the handful. Kate chuckled. The girl’s mother hadn’t noticed yet, but she was about to.
  A cheer erupted, not for the pleasure of cake, but for something said in the speech. Kate shifted her notebook and absentmindedly clapped. The mic buzzed as it was switched off, and the sisters left the stage. The lights brightened and upbeat music started to play. Kate took that as her cue. She was ready to head home.
  “Ahh, what a wonderful evening we’ve had.” Joy came up beside her and beamed as she observed the mingling crowd. “This exceeded my expectations by far. May I see the photos you’ve taken?”
  Kate nodded and opened the gallery on her camera. She held it out so Joy could look. The woman squinted at the screen. While she waited, Kate double-checked that she hadn’t missed anything important.
  The girl covered in chocolate was being scolded by her mom, who fussed over her with a whole pile of napkins.
  “Wow, you’ve done such a awesome job with these.” Joy brought Kate back to focus. “It is refreshing to see women in journalism. We need more of the female perspective.” She winked. “Especially from youngsters like you.”
  “Thank you.” Kate let her camera fall to her waist and adjusted her glasses. “Your story should be in the next edition, which will be out in a few days.”
  “That’s wonderful. I can’t wait! Our friends have already requested copies, and I want to save some for a scrapbook.”
  Marlene joined them. “Well, the time has flown by. I can’t believe it’s already nine-thirty.” She glanced at the clock. “We would love to have you stick around and enjoy the party.”
  “Thank you, but it was a long day at the office.” Kate glanced at the door. “I’m going to head out now.”
  The sisters said their goodbyes, shaking her hand and showering her with a final round of compliments.
  “Thank you very much, and best of luck!” Kate dipped her head and made her way across the room.
  Kate stopped at the food table, snapping a picture of the fist-sized hole in the cake. She’d never use it, but it was too amusing to pass up. She grabbed a couple of small sandwiches and headed for the door.
  The moon had risen over the parking lot. The door swung shut and the music faded into the background. A headache had begun to eat away at Kate’s comfort, brought on by the combination of noise and light. She took a deep breath and tilted her head back, eyes closed as she enjoyed the silence.
  Did the women inside know how small their story would be? One page, tucked away in the middle of the magazine. Maybe she should have warned them.
  A few bold stars blinked down at her, barely visible through the glow of the nearby streetlights. Two years at university, six months at this job, and she was still working on these small stories. What happened to writing something important? She pushed the thought away as she crossed the parking lot. This was the perfect place to learn. If she didn’t learn, she’d never get a headliner, something like her coworkers were assigned.
  That didn’t stop her from feeling sorry for the people she interviewed. No one liked having their stories become a side note. Is it really them you feel sorry for? She climbed into her car and let the radio drown out her discontentment.