“You don’t even know proposal.”
“I know enough.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Melissa leaned forward.
“They want to fund renovations.”
“For what?”
“Brand partnership.”
Claire laughed once.
Not amusement.
“What brand?”
Melissa slid a deck across the desk.
The first page showed a mocked-up logo.
A pink tutu.
A black silhouette of a huge man.
Words:
THE BEAR & LILY COURAGE CENTER
Claire stared.
Melissa said nothing.
The second page outlined plans.
Renovated recital hall.
Interactive exhibit about viral moment.
Sponsored youth anxiety programming.
Documentary mini-series.
Merchandise.
Family nights.
“Courage challenges.”
Claire stopped reading.
“No.”
Melissa’s jaw tightened.
“We could lose the building.”
“Then lose the building.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Claire looked up.
Melissa immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“Say it.”
Melissa sighed.
“You don’t work here.”
“You don’t manage payroll.”
“You don’t explain to teachers why hours are cut.”
“You don’t tell families we might close.”
Claire nodded.
True.
Melissa continued.
“They’re offering enough to replace roof and HVAC.”
“Plus accessibility.”
“Without debt.”
“And in return?”
“Licensing.”
“Naming.”
“Access to archive material if family agrees.”
“There it is.”
Claire pushed deck back.
“My mother spent sixty years telling people that the tutu wasn’t the lesson.”
“I know.”
“Then why put it on building?”
“Because the building needs money.”
Silence.
The honest answer.
Claire respected it.
Melissa continued.
“If we close, Open Stage closes too.”
“Scholarships.”
“Adaptive classes.”
“Everything your mother cared about.”
“That is exactly why this is difficult.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“What do they want from children?”
Melissa hesitated.
“No exploitation.”
“Define.”
“Documentary interviews with consenting families.”
“Recreation segments.”
Claire’s head snapped up.
“Recreation?”
“They want to stage an anniversary recital.”
“No.”
“Claire—”
“A scared five-year-old is not content.”
“I agree.”
“Do you?”
Melissa’s eyes flashed.
“You think I don't know that?”
“I have spent thirty years here.”
“I watched children vomit from nerves.”
“Hide in bathrooms.”
“Quit.”
“Come back.”
“Do you really think I want to turn panic into marketing?”
Claire softened.
“No.”
Melissa looked exhausted.
“But I also know what happens if a boiler fails and we cannot replace it.”
Claire looked around office.
Old radiator.