I nodded. “I can handle the technical details.”

“That is my job.”

Friday morning arrived with a clear, pale blue sky over the lake.

The temperature had dropped, leaving a thin crust of white ice on the edge of the wooden pier.

A white canvas tent had been erected over the presentation platform.

Dozens of folding chairs were arranged in neat rows facing the stage.

Microphones stood in a cluster at the center of the wooden podium.

The press began arriving at nine o’clock.

I stood in the green room behind the stage, adjusting the collar of my grey wool blazer.

My hands were cold, so I rubbed them together to keep them warm.

Margaret walked in, holding a green clipboard.

“The Mayor’s deputy is here,” she said.

“He is taking his seat now.”

“Julian is already out there, talking to the lead reporter from the Tribune.”

I looked at my reflection in the small vanity mirror on the wall.

My face was pale, but my eyes were focused.

This was the same Chicago wind that had greeted me when I arrived with nothing but one suitcase.