International Player(17)



“I’m saying you won’t even get them in the door—they’ll cancel.”

“I hate to say it but I think he has a point,” Rob replied, taking another swig of beer. “I think Abigail would prefer you to be at these things rather than . . . whoever you said. But you can’t ask—she’s off limits. All she needs to know is that everything’s fine and it’s all being handled.”

“But it’s still the same foundation, the same good causes. Who could argue with the rehab center? You’ve both been there, right? They’re desperate.”

Truly was the cleverest woman I’d ever met, but she was also one of the most na?ve. It was times like this that I thought maybe it was deliberate. She shut herself away so she didn’t have to face stuff. “This isn’t about good causes. Tell me why you don’t go to work in yoga pants and a Star Wars t-shirt?”

She blushed. “Well, I want to appear professional. I mean, a little more than having Yoda on my chest. I know I don’t dress like Abigail in the office—”

“But it shouldn’t matter what you wear, should it? I mean, you’re still Truly—whip smart and a tough negotiator, at least when dealing with your sister.”

“So, you’re saying it’s about appearances?”

“You know that people don’t make decisions based on logic and reason. People give money to charity to make themselves feel good. They want to feel special and appreciated—like they matter. If you fob them off on some junior member of the team, they’ll just move on to the next charity who’ll treat them like they just cured cancer.”

Her shoulders slumped as she assimilated what I was saying. “I can’t do two jobs. It’s just impossible. And Mason and—”

“Forget about Mason and whoever the fuck else you’ve lined up.” My beer landed on the table with a slam I hadn’t intended. Truly jumped, but I wasn’t backing off until I’d said what I felt. I knew how important the foundation was to her and Abi, and I didn’t want her making a gigantic mistake that would jeopardize it. “You’re going to have to do every meeting, presentation, or dinner that Abi had lined up. Delegate the financial stuff—recruit someone.”

“But no one knows those systems and—”

“No one’s going to run that department like you would. You have to accept that.”

“Yes, but if I delegate the fundraising piece to people who would be better at it, the whole thing won’t collapse in five months just because Mason and—”

“Are you prepared to take that risk? Put everything you, Abi, and your mother worked for on the line because you would prefer to hide behind your computer or be at home with a book? Make those kids at the rehab center suffer because you can’t be bothered to go and buy some new clothes?”

She stared at her toes, finally out of excuses. I’d gone too far and I knew it. This wasn’t my business. I had no stake in the Harbury Foundation. I should have left it, but I knew what those kids were going through. I knew how easy it would be for them to give up.

I could almost hear her heartbeat racing as her anxiety built.

“You know the perfect solution is staring you both in the face,” Rob said. “Noah, you should help her.”

“What?” Truly and I said in unison.

“It’s perfect. You don’t have anything to do at the moment.” He raised his palm when I began to refute his statement. “I mean, it’s not like you’re running a business or trying to make something work. You have more free time than usual.”

I couldn’t argue with that, but it was hardly like I spent my days in bed watching soaps. I had a series of flying lessons planned, skydiving, and now that I’d recruited an assistant, I was going to start looking for office space.

“You’ve earned all this money. This would be a way of you giving back. Instead of writing a big check, you could actually do something. Be her consultant. You’ve done the schmoozing thing. You know how big business works—you know what the donors will be thinking and what will make them donate. Coach her a little.”

“Truly can cope on her own; she just doesn’t want to.” Why was I giving her such a hard time about this? I should just relax, enjoy my beer, and leave her to get it together. Or not. “She doesn’t need me.” I glanced over at Truly to take in her reaction.

“You’re right. I can cope,” she said, but the worry skating across her eyes said differently. “Thank you for the business advice. I appreciate it.” Her words wobbled as she finished her sentence.

“You’re going to be fine,” I assured her. “You’ve just had a lot to think about. I’m sorry to lay into you like that. I was being a twat. And so was Rob.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, breaking our gaze and glancing over at voices coming from the hallway.

I got to my feet and realized Rob was with someone. Shit, the hairdresser. “Are you ready?” I asked Truly.

“Yes, it’s good. I need a haircut. And a personality transplant. So, if you could just dial up one of your New York contacts and arrange that, I’d be very grateful.” She gave me a small smile and I chuckled.

I wished I could help her. The foundation’s plan for the rehab center was admirable and those kids needed the help, and I didn’t like seeing Truly so out of her depth. It wasn’t who she was. Shouldn’t I help if I could? Rob suggesting that I accompany her to functions wasn’t so ridiculous. We’d once been good friends. And anyway, this was business, the best for the foundation. Twenty weeks would pass in a blur, and I’d be giving kids the opportunity that I was once given.

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