The Haas Institute

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The Hass Institute

By Blame Picasso

Chapter One

Casual Friday

“Hi Grace, my name is Debbie.” The woman said extending her hand.

Hi? Grace thought to herself. My name is Debbie? Is she serious? This is one of the most rich and powerful women in the world!

“H-hello Ms. Haas.” Grace managed to stutter.

The woman chuckled as she shook Grace’s hand. “No, really, call me Debbie. Or Deb is fine too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Grace replied just as awkwardly as her first statement.

“Wow, that’s even worse.” Debbie laughed again as she released Grace’s hand and gently touched her elbow. “Come on in. Welcome to my world.” Debbie said sweeping her other hand toward the beautiful lobby leading into the building.

The four-story high ceiling of the lobby was glass and tall palm trees stretched toward it and the bright Miami sun beyond. The floor was white marble and comfortable looking couches were arranged around a glass coffee table off to the right. Debbie had come down so quickly to greet her Grace hadn’t had a chance to sit down. The receptionist who greeted Grace when she walked in sat behind a large oak desk on the left. The receptionist was a stunning young black girl named Celeste who smiled knowingly as her boss led the star struck teenager inside.

Beyond the lobby was a bright hallway painted a sand color with oak trim. The marble floor gave way to a deep green carpet. The wall to the left was glass and looked out over the beautifully landscaped campus dotted with palm trees and colorful flowers surrounded by a sea of bright green grass. On the right were large framed prints of what Grace quickly recognized as Debbie Lee Hass’ story.

A recessed light shined down on the first print of the front page of a New Jersey newspaper called the Asbury Park Press. A large color photo showed Debbie burned, hairless, and bandaged on a stretcher being taken out of a building following a pharmaceutical explosion and fire.

They stopped and Grace examined the photo and byline “Only Survivor Taken Out Of Venus Pharmaceuticals Explosion.”

“That’s where it all started.” Debbie said quietly.

Grace turned to look at Debbie. She couldn’t believe the woman beside her who had been through so much over the past 24 years could be so beautiful and vibrant looking.

“You’re so much prettier than I even imagined.” Grace said quietly and immediately regretted it.

Debbie laughed and Grace suddenly felt less awkward. Her laugh was real and unassuming. “Thank you very much. I try very hard to keep in shape and I really love what I do, I guess that helps.” Debbie was 45 years old and could easily pass for a woman fifteen years younger. She wore a cream colored suit with a skirt. A bright green blouse was unbuttoned just enough to show a bit of tanned cleavage. Open-toed heels that matc