by Claire Adams
“I do have a few things to do, but I’d really like to grab a nap. How on earth do you still have so much energy today?”
“I didn’t drink?” I laughed.
“Perhaps, but you couldn’t have slept more than three hours.”
“I’m not much of a sleeper,” I started to say and then stopped myself. “I like to sleep, but I don’t need it to be productive.”
Emmi slipped off her heels and started to lace up her tennis shoes. I had seen her to this once before, earlier in the week. On that day she had planned to head to the shopping mall and was going to walk to get a little exercise. I imagined she also needed to de-stress after working a long day with me. I wasn’t the easiest boss, and I knew it.
“I’m going to the hair salon down on Jackson Street,” Emmi said before I had a chance to ask about her tennis shoes.
“Try and grab some sleep,” I said as I turned toward my desk. “Did you end up finding a dress?”
“Yeah, Jessica has some flashy number she’s insisting on me wearing. I’m excited to get dressed up, though. I’ve been working my ass off for the last few months, and never got a chance to go to events like this.”
“Your dad said something about you leaving a big job in New York to come out here. What happened with that?”
Instantly I saw the smile on Emmi’s face disappear as she put her head down and finished tying her shoes. It was clear I had hit on a raw topic that she wasn’t interested in talking about at all. The muscles in her neck clenched as she finished tying her laces and breathed out a huge sigh.
“Perhaps that’s a conversation for an evening with alcohol,” she laughed. “I better get going. Don’t want to be late for my beautifying.”
“You know you could go exactly as you are and it would be just fine.”
“Now what fun would that be? A girl likes to get dolled up every now and then.”
“Okay, well enjoy your afternoon, and I’ll swing by and pick you up at 5 o’clock.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“See you then,” I said as I watched her make her way to the elevator.
I couldn’t help but watch her tight figure move in her fitted skirt as she walked. The curve of her hips delicately moving from one side to the next made my body react. The blood pumped to my groin as I tried not to think the thoughts that naturally followed such excitement from my body.
Her figure was insane. Curves in all the right spots, and she kept wearing those damn tight-fitting business outfits that were driving me crazy. I watched her until the second she stepped onto the elevator, then I returned to my office and hid behind my desk while my body returned to normal.
The rest of my work day was uneventful, yet busy. I had meetings packed in with three different departments as we settled in on details for the Breckenridge project. There were more details involved in building a resort than there had been in my entire time of designing snowboards and skis.
Decisions about what wood to use on the floor, or tile, or stone, or whatever else the designer wanted to think of. We had to talk about the size of the pool, if it would be chlorinated or natural, would it have a waterfall, a hot tub attached or just separate. Then there were decisions about the kitchens at each property. How many stoves, freezers, refrigerators, and all the experts to give the information I needed for my decision-making.
Teddy had been called away to finish a different project we had going on in Idaho, otherwise I would have referred the long list of decisions to him. After four hours of meetings, I had successfully decided we needed a pool, some floors, and two kitchens; yet no other decisions had been finalized.
Working with Teddy made me less competent. I knew he had better answers for the questions that were being asked. I knew Teddy had more experience and could weigh what the experts had to say with what the vision for our resort was. It was a rotten feeling to know someone else was better at making decisions about a topic than I was, but I’d rather defer to his opinion than screw up the project.
As I wrapped up my day, I pulled my tuxedo out of the office closet and slipped it on with a pair of my shiny black dress shoes. It took me a whopping 20 minutes to get ready, and I was down in the waiting car by 10 minutes to 5. I sent off a quick text to Emmi to make sure she was ready and gave the driver the addresses for our trip.
DECLAN: On my way. I’ll come up to your door.
She replied almost instantly.
EMMI: I’ll have to meet you there.
DECLAN: Why? I’ll wait, it’s no problem.
EMMI: Actually, not even at the apartment. I’ll be to the event shortly. Save me a table…LOL.
DECLAN: Are you sure?
EMMI: Yes, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.
DECLAN: Okay, if you insist.
EMMI: I do. See you shortly.
“We can head to the venue,” I said to the driver.
“Yes, sir.”
It was probably best this way. There would be no feelings like it was a date at all. We could arrive separately and keep the whole evening totally professional. That’s exactly what I wanted to happen. Well, it was what I needed to happen. Strictly two business associates at a fundraiser for a good cause, nothing more than that.
The Boys and Girls Home was my favorite charity. There was no question that they needed the money. No question about the good work they were doing or the need to keep them open. The Home wasn’t just a group home, like so many other facilities in Los Angeles. The Boys and Girls Home had the campus set up with houses and staffed those houses with couples who supported the children in their home. The couples were paid a salary for running their house, and this essentially gave the kids in their home the feeling of family.
The couples who were chosen to run each home were angels. They were often foster parents who decided to move on and help more children. And the kids were tough; they had been through more than most adults could imagine. The children had the highest level of behavioral issues and were often ushered in and out of the hospital setting. But the home-based system was working. It was helping more and more kids.
In the previous year, the group had sent 50 percent of their aged-out kids to college. That number was amazing for foster youth. Typically, the number was closer to 10 percent, even for children who were placed in traditional foster homes. This meant so much to me, not because I had a horrible childhood or knew at all what the kids were going through. The group meant so much to me because I wanted to make a difference with my money, and giving a child a future was the best way I could think of to make a real change.
The ballroom was decorated elegantly, but not fancy. The kids had probably played a big part in setting up and getting ready for the event. One of the things I loved most about the Boys and Girls Home philosophy was that they made everything into a learning event. If a child was interested in marketing, they let them help market the fundraiser. If a child was interested in interior design, they helped design the event. Every detail likely had a child from the organization helping to make the night happen. Learning from actually doing was the best possible option.
I glanced at my watch and looked toward the door to see if Emmi had arrived yet. It was nearly 5:30 and still no sign of her. It was eating away at me that I had left her to come on her own. Yes, it was a little more professional this way, but if I had come with Margery, I would have picked her up as well. There was just something necessary about picking a woman up for events like this.
Then I saw her. At first I wasn’t sure it was Emmi. There was a stunning, movie star look-alike standing at the main entrance and scanning the crowd. But it was Emmi, and the more I looked, the more I wanted to touch her. Just to let my hand slide against her glowing and radiant skin; that was all I could think about.
Our eyes locked and she nodded as she ran her hands up and down her dress looking for my approval. I thrust my thumbs up in the air and gave her two thumbs up like I was an 80-year-old man or something. It wasn’t my best move.
I q
uickly walked toward Emmi so I could escort her to our seats. I swear, everyone in the room had their eyes on her as she descended the stairs and walked slowly in my direction. She owned the room. People whispered to their neighbor and pointed at her as if she were a celebrity. Honestly, they probably had no idea if she was or not. By this point everyone was whispering and pointing, so the others thought she must be someone famous.
“Why is everyone looking at me?” Emmi whispered as I gave her a quick hug and then held my elbow out for her to grab onto.
“That dress.”
“I knew it was too much. Jessica insisted these events were black tie.”
“It is a black tie event, but you’ve just made it a golden tie event with that dress. That is amazing. Is it really Jessica’s? Because it fits you like you were sewn right into it.”
“Yep, it’s hers, but she said her boobs pop out of it and she can’t wear it at all.”
“Feel free to let yours pop out if they want,” I said before I could stop myself. “Sorry. Crap, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”
“It’s okay. You get a one-time pass.”
“I’ve got a rash sense of humor sometimes. Please know I didn’t mean it.”
“I understand. Now, let’s get to mingling so you can gather a ton of donations tonight. No reason all these people should be sitting on their fat wallets when they could be giving that money to kids in need.”
I placed my hand gently on the small of her back as we stopped briefly by our table and then moved over to the bar area. There were at least a dozen people gathered around drinking and laughing; this was the perfect place for us to insert ourselves and begin building relationships with the other attendees.
Most of the people at the fundraiser were the business elite that I’d known for years around Los Angeles. A small group of CEO’s, company presidents, and entrepreneurs who had made it big in their businesses and were giving back to the community. Sometimes events like this were more like a networking night than a charity event, but not the Boys and Girls Home. The group of people who were in attendance on that evening were well-known for their charity gifts, or at least most of them were. Of course, there were always a few outliers who I didn’t know and had no idea of their intention.
“That’s Mrs. Braxton. She’s the widowed billionaire of an Exxon oil executive. She is bored and comes to every charity event out there. She always gives $10,000 no matter what the event is. I have a goal of getting her to give more. She’s got plenty of money; she can’t take it to her grave.”
“Does she have the charity in her will for a donation after she passes away?”
“No idea.”
“That would be good to set up as well. Even if she only intends to give $10,000 a year, making sure it’s in her will could really set the charity up for consistent donations. It would be better if she gave a lump sum though, that way the charity could get the interest off the money each year.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as I talk with her.”
“Who’s that guy over there?” Emmi asked as she pointed to an elderly gentleman in a cowboy hat.
“I don’t know, but he looks like he’s from Texas.”
“I’m going to go talk to him for a minute and then come join you. I suspect he will need a couple conversations before he’s upping his donation, though; we will need to talk to him again before your speech.”
“Deal. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
I pulled Emmi toward me and squeezed her around the waist before releasing her to get to work. Our plan was concise and deliberate, but it was necessary to get the donations increased. Everyone in that room was rich. They wanted to give to the kids and the charity; my job was to open their hearts a little more than they normally were and get a few more dollars out of them.
“Mrs. Braxton, it’s so good to see you again,” I said with my giant fake grin as I shook her hand and she pulled me in for a hug.
“Declan, it’s good to see you, too. How has your year been?”
“Busy yet boring all at the same time.”
“I know what you mean. What sort of project are you and Teddy working on now?”
“Another resort in Breckenridge, Colorado. You’ll have to come check it out when it’s finished.”
Talking with Mrs. Braxton was comfortable, like talking with my own family. She had an ease about her that I found reassuring. She had a good heart, but I saw a loneliness in her eyes that she didn’t let many other people see.
“And how are your children?”
“Very well. They are busy taking on the world in their respective professions. Hardly a minute to spare for their old mother. My daughter has had her third child, so that was an exciting start to the year.”
“How many grandchildren is that for you now?”
“Seventeen,” she said as she let out a long sigh. “Can you believe I’ve got seventeen grandchildren? They are such a gift.”
“I know how much you must love them. Children are such a big passion for you,” I said as I noticed Emmi walking toward me. “This is Teddy Shields’ daughter, Emmi; she’s helping me out of a bind after Margery retired.”
Mrs. Braxton and Emmi shook hands, and I noticed the elderly woman eyeing Emmi’s dress from the floor up to her neck. It was a spectacular gold gown, certainly the envy of the women in the room.
“Teddy is your father?” Mrs. Braxton asked. “I remember when you were in pigtails.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Emmi said sweetly.
“So you’re helping my dear friend Declan out? I suppose he’s already fired a dozen other assistants.”
Emmi smiled and demurely shook her head back and forth.
“I’m not sure. I know my father said Declan was in desperate need of a woman who could keep him on track. So here I am.”
“He’s a good man, Declan. I hope you’ll stay around and keep him on the straight and narrow.”
“You two do know I’m still standing right here?” I teased.
“This is a pretty amazing charity from what I’ve heard,” Emmi said without losing a beat. “I heard it costs them over 20 million dollars a year just to keep the houses running. That’s an insane amount of money.”
“Really? Wow, that is a lot of money.”
“Yeah, I was just talking to Miles Buckbee,” Emmi said as she waved to the man in the cowboy hat. “He’s trying to start a similar concept organization down in Texas. He doesn’t have nearly enough infrastructure yet, but he’s working on it. Pretty amazing fellow. He came out here to talk with the staff and develop the process for getting things off the ground.”
“If you two don’t mind, I’m going to go talk to him for a minute,” Mrs. Braxton said. “I’d like to hear more about what he’s doing down there.”
“Of course,” I said as we kissed each other’s cheeks. “We will catch up later tonight.”
With that, Mrs. Braxton was gone. She made a beeline straight for Miles Buckbee.
“Sorry, I figured her money would be better spent helping get another Boys and Girls Home set up. I’m sure she will still give a nice donation here.”
“That was a smart move. You are like a ninja with your words. Dropping how much it costs for a year and initiating her desire to help get his organization off the ground. Wow, Emmi, you are truly amazing.”
“Thanks, it all just came to me while I was talking to him. Wouldn’t it be amazing if there were Boys and Girls Homes with this concept all over the country? Just think how that would impact these kids’ lives.”
“Yeah, that would be amazing. I’d give money to all of them. I truly believe getting these kids support and education is the key to building relationships for them that will decrease poor behaviors and help them become contributing members of their cities.”
“I don’t think any of these kids want to be bad. From what I know about foster children, they are often left dangling as they try to find homes to take them. These kids just want stability
.”
“Okay, so who should we talked to next?” Emmi asked as we both looked around the room.
Chapter Eight
Emmi
We spent the first hour of the night talking with the largest donors that were in attendance. My job was clear: to get these good people to give even more money than they typically donated. The best way to do this was going to be through their hearts, and I knew it.
It was fun working with Declan. Our conversations bounced effortlessly off of one another, and I even learned a thing or two about him throughout the evening. But as the dinner started to be served, we made our way to the table, and I let out a sigh of relief as I could turn off my charm for a few minutes and just relax.
It was exhausting to be socially on point for a whole hour. It was hard for me because I wasn’t naturally a social person. Instead, I enjoyed being a little more withdrawn and relaxed.
“That was amazing,” Declan said as he sipped his white wine.
“We will see if you end up with any more donations tonight or not.”
“See that woman over there,” Declan said as he pointed to a red-headed woman in her early 50s. “That’s Maryanne Flemming, the director of the program. She’s been running it since day one. Totally dedicated to these kids and making their lives better, and a truly amazing woman.”
“I can’t wait to meet her. Does she have a financial goal to meet tonight?”
Declan paused as he seemed to be thinking about what I was asking. I wasn’t an expert at running a charity, but I knew a fundraiser needed a goal or people weren’t pushed to give. If there was no end goal, people just gave whatever they wanted to.
“You know what? I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say there was a specific goal. I hadn’t even heard that it cost 20 million a year to run the program.”
“That’s a huge mistake. You need to go talk to her and get a goal out of her. Let her shoot for the stars. Ideally, how much does she hope to get from a night like this? How much did she get previous years? Then double it. Make sure she announces her goal during her first speech, then you and the other speakers can piggyback on that number. Trust me; it will help get her numbers up, even if she doesn’t actually reach the goal.”