Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(19)

This morning I’d gone out on a limb and contacted the demolition contractor. I’d told him that the misunderstanding about the deed had been cleared up, the demolition could go on as planned, and he’d have access to the buildings whenever he needed it. I still needed to discuss that part with Con. I’d made a similar ‘oops we got confused about the deed thing, so no worries’ call to the architect. I really, really hoped those calls weren’t premature. But regardless, I couldn’t put them off.

A sharp rap on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. Archer stood on the threshold.

I rose, pushing aside my to do list for the day.

“Archer, it’s a pleasure to see you. What can I do for you?”

Archer was seventy-four years old, and he looked every day of it. His twenty-year-old suit hung from a frame so painfully frail it looked as though he might break if you touched him. He’d been that way as long as I could remember, and my mother had had the same Bennett build. It was one more reason why she’d despaired of my weight as a kid. She’d never understood how I’d managed to draw the Frost card out of that portion of the genetic lottery.

Archer’s hair was a distant memory, but his grayed toupee was actually one of the better ones I’d seen. Regardless of his age or fashion sense, he was an amazing mentor and role model. I still remembered the first time he let me sit behind his desk when I was six years old. I think I’d known even then that this foundation was my future.

“Vanessa, how are you this morning?”

“Very well, sir.”

“Good, good. I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was still on schedule for the project.”

“Of course. And once the debris is hauled away after demolition, the groundbreaking will move forward, and we can kick off construction. We’re still targeting an early completion, God-willing.”

“Good, good. I had heard an offhand remark from someone that there might have been a hold up over some property concerns.”

Where the hell had he heard that? Only the demolition guy and the architect had known. But then, Archer always knew more than one would think. Which meant that if I were going to keep whatever I was doing with Con a secret, I’d have to be vigilant.

“No, sir. No hold up,” I replied.

“Excellent. Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m in meetings with Herzog all week going over financials.”

From the board meetings I was invited to attend, it was apparent that the foundation was on the cusp of hitting its budgeted numbers, but stress levels were always climbing this time of year. Extraordinary fundraising results would be required to keep us on pace. If we didn’t hit our numbers, we could lose our prestigious position on the Top Fifty Most Influential Foundations list. It might sound like a silly ranking, but in the nonprofit world, it was a little bit like the U.S. News & World Report’s rankings for grad schools. The higher your rank, the more likely you were to get donations and bequests and continue to grow. More donations and bequests meant we were able to fund more programs and help more people. The fact that the L.R. Bennett Foundation had been on that list since its inception was a point of pride for Archer, and I couldn’t imagine him retiring without maintaining that status. Actually, if we slipped off the list, Archer would probably have a cardiac event and drop dead on the spot.

“Of course. If there’s anything else I can take off your plate to clear your schedule, sir, please feel free to let me know.”

“I appreciate that you’re always willing to lend a hand. Thank you, Vanessa. You’re a good girl. Your mother would be proud of you. We need to have lunch one of these days. There are some things we need to discuss as we get closer to December.”

Unexpected tears pricked my eyes at the mention of my mother. I nodded in response, and cleared my throat. “You name the day, and I’ll be there.”

“Good, good. Well, off to deal with the numbers. We’ve got a big target to hit, and I know we can do it.”

Archer tapped the doorframe twice before he left. It was the same move he’d made every time he’d left my office since I’d begun working there. It was a strange little comfort knowing that I could always count on those two taps as a period at the end of our conversation.

The next knock on my door was equally welcome—and a heck of a lot less stressful: Elle.

“Hey, hey, hey, girly. You got news for me or what?”

I jerked my head toward the door. “Close it, and I’ll fill you in.”

Elle pressed the door shut and strutted to my guest chair. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because your shit isn’t in a box, and Archer just bounced out of here like he’d discovered his hair had grown back. I know you, and if you hadn’t figured this out yet, you would’ve caved and told him. So?”

“I did it.”

“Hells yeah, baby. I knew you could.” She planted her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “Did you have to get on your knees and beg, if you know what I mean?”

I covered my face, the heat of a blush burning my cheeks. “No. No, I did not.”

“Then how…?”

I looked at the clock. It was closing in on eleven, and it would take me fifteen or twenty minutes to get to Con’s. Could I explain all of the craziness that had gone on last night in less than forty minutes? I guess I’d find out.