* * *
The next week flew by. The work was getting efficiently done, there was plenty of laughter, and the days took on a soothing rhythm. Missing the dogs during my busily scheduled weeks, I’d gone out to pick them up earlier in the week and our evenings at home were just as comfortably serene.
As I prepped to go to Denver, I thought about the logistics. The awards banquet was Saturday night, with a closing breakfast Sunday morning, so I figured I’d try to catch Andrea Brubaker before or after the breakfast. The executive group was staying downtown at The Four Seasons on 14th, and I thought it should be easy to find and the traffic should be light on a Sunday morning. I’d lent my GPS to Roxanne Campbell and her husband for an antiquing trip, so I printed out a map of the area to be able to navigate with some reminder of the streets around me. It wasn’t far from Coors Field, home of the Rockies, and I’d been there many times. With my map and a stack of CDs, I felt prepared and ready to go.
Early Sunday morning, the dogs loved on and fed, and Pecos following my every move, I stood at the counter with good coffee in hand and the newspaper strewn in front of me. But it couldn’t hold my interest as I thought about what was to come. This time I wasn’t posing as a donor that Andrea Brubaker wanted something from, and had to be pleasant to. I didn’t know what I could learn from her, and I knew Andrea Brubaker could turn nasty and humiliating on a dime. I dreaded confrontations, but I also knew that it didn’t have to go that way. She could behave any way she wanted. I couldn’t control her behavior, but I could stay focused on my points and not allow her to turn things around and attack. At least, that was the plan.