Under the Shade of an Old Mango Tree

Chapter 6: Visiting the Office of the Foster Family Program

After parking her car behind the town hall, Lena walked to the back entrance, where a pair of guards welcomed her. She went in and took one of the big glass elevators that flanked the entrance gate.

As Lena reached the second floor, she went to the balcony to get a closer look at the magnificent mango tree. She marveled at how thick the trunk was and how widespread its numerous branches were. Hanging from among the big, shiny green leaves were big, shiny yellow fruits.

I bet they're really juicy, she thought.

She craned her neck bit by bit to try to see more clearly.

"Careful not to fall over, dear," an amused voice gently warned from behind.

Lena turned her head slowly. A small, silver-haired old lady who was probably in her seventies, or even eighties, was smiling kindly. She was loosely clutching some craft folders. Lena meekly waved at her.

"What can I do for you, Lena?" the old lady asked.

"Uh . . . you know me, ma'am?"

"Of course. I know everybody in this small town."

There was a moment's silence. The old lady was obviously waiting for Lena to answer her question earlier.

"Oh!" Lena exclaimed when she realized it. "Uh, ma'am . . . uh, how do I inquire about the Foster Family Program?"

The old lady nodded and smiled again.

"You've come to the right place, dear."

The old lady extended her free hand and indicated the door to the Office of the Foster Family Program, which was just right behind them. Suddenly the door opened and out came a tall middle-aged man. He was dressed in a classic three-piece suit, sported a neatly combed hair parted on one side, and wore a pair of shiny, spotless patent-leather shoes. He took a few steps forward and moved to one side. Then he stood up straight, nodded courteously to the old lady, and opened the door—with somewhat a dramatic flair but still all stiff and elegant as a genuine British butler.

An impressed Lena nodded to the gentleman and hurriedly went inside. As she stepped into the office, she was surprised at what she saw. The office looked more like a room in a private seaside resort than in a government building. The clean wood-plank floors were lightly stained and the shiplap walls were immaculately white. Beams of the same color as the floor ran the entire length of the also white ceiling. Woven wood shades covered the upper portions of the floor-to-ceiling windows. At the center of the room was a large white linen slipcover sofa, rattan bistro chairs with blue-and-white striped cushions, a driftwood coffee table and driftwood side tables, and lamps with turquoise bases and white shades. A large plain jute rug defined this seating area. Black-and-white photographs of sailboats and lighthouses sat on top of console tables. There were vintage prints of fishes, starfish, and other marine animals as well.

Lena turned to her right and saw a dining table, which was also made of driftwood. It was surrounded by eight rattan bistro chairs. There were clear jars of sand and pebbles at the center of the table. A large rope pendant light hung from the ceiling.

To the left was a bamboo and rattan desk with a matching swivel chair behind it. In front were a pair of facing chairs in blue-and-white checkered slipcovers. Along the wall were white shelves filled with books mostly on art, architecture, and interior design. On top were plants in different shades of blue and green ceramic pots.

"Do you like it?" asked the old lady as Lena stood in awe.

"Yes!" Lena almost shouted. Then she cleared her throat. "Yes, I do. But . . ."

"Yes, dear?" the old lady prodded her.

"Well, it's quite . . . refreshing?"

The old lady laughed.

"Well, if you find this place delightful, look outside the window."

Lena walked to the thick glass pane and slightly raised the shade. She gasped at what she beheld. On the other side of a wide road was an impressive old-style building. It looked like the National Library or the National Museum, but older and simpler—yet no less glorious. It had five stories and occupied an entire block. In front was a tall, thick stone slab with an engraving of a fully grown mango tree.

Lena wondered why she hadn't seen the place before, especially when she just parked right across it. She tried craning her neck to see more but nearly shoved her face against the glass. The old lady nearly choked on her laughter.

"We can go there, if you like," she told Lena after futilely controlling her grin.

"Really?" Lena asked excitedly and grinned back.

"Whenever you feel like it, dear," the old lady told her.