International Player(22)

My assistant popped her head in. “They’re starting to arrive. I’ve shown them into the boardroom.”

“Thanks, Lisa. We’re coming. Are the refreshments in there?”

“Yep, everything’s set up.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

I’d started to stride out when Noah called me. “Don’t you want the presentations? And your notes?”

I winced and headed back to my desk, collecting everything I needed. We headed down the corridor, but as I paused to knock on the boardroom door, Noah grabbed my wrist. “This is your foundation. You don’t knock.”

Shit. Right.

“You have nothing to be nervous about.” His tone was so calm and authoritative, he sounded so sure, it was easy to believe him. I exhaled. “Head up. Smile.”

I lifted my chin and plastered on a grin before walking into the room.

Here we go.





Thirty minutes later, I was done. After making chitchat with the donors, I went through my presentation. No one had interrupted, and I hadn’t passed out, but I had barely drawn breath or looked up.

“Is it possible to get an electronic copy of the slides?” one donor asked.

“Of course,” I replied, scribbling down a note for myself. “I’ll send everyone a copy.”

“It’s impressive how you do so much with what you have,” another donor said.

I smiled, my shoulders dropping as I drew a deep breath. I closed my pack of slides, grateful that I had finished the meeting before passing out. “Just drop me an email if you think of any questions later on,” I said and stood. “And if I don’t see you all before, then I’ll no doubt see you at the winter ball.”

After a couple of awkward goodbyes, I saw everyone out. And just as I shook hands with the last donor, I realized what I’d done—or hadn’t.

My legs were weak and my mouth was dry as I stumbled back into the boardroom where Noah was waiting. “Oh, God—I didn’t ask them to commit to funding next year,” I said, leaning back on the closed door. “How could I have forgotten?”

Noah coaxed me over to sit next to him. “I think it was fine. You made the presentation and connected with the group. That was the hardest part, and you nailed it. Now you can follow up with a personalized email, thanking them for coming and asking them to let you know what they are planning to donate next year.”

I let the heat of his body warm me, and everything seemed a little bit better. “You think I can do that? That’s not what Abigail does.”

“But you’re not Abigail. You’re Truly. You don’t have to be a carbon copy of your sister to do this job.”

“I hate being so crap at this stuff. Abigail is just so—”

“Abigail’s been doing it a long time. Everything gets easier with practice.”

“Well, I’d rather just stick to what I’m good at.”

“Really?” he asked. “Where’s the challenge in that? Don’t you want to master new things?”

“It’s not what comes naturally to me. Numbers come naturally. They never did to Abigail.”

He paused. “So you can only be good at something if Abigail isn’t?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” I’d enjoyed arguing and debating with Noah when we were friends before. But our discussions usually centered on politics or science. I couldn’t remember it ever being personal before. I wasn’t used to him, or anyone, focusing on me and challenging me in such a personal way. “I’m saying, she’s naturally better than me at some things, so it makes sense for her to focus on that stuff. I’m never going to be good at this public-speaking thing, so why force it? If I can’t be exceptional at something, why not put my efforts somewhere where I know I can be the best?”

“Maybe you avoid public speaking because you don’t want people to compare you and Abigail?”

“That’s not fair, Noah. I’ve known Abigail since before we were born. I love my sister, and I have no hang-ups about her being beautiful and confident. People are drawn to her and so am I. I hate to be the center of attention, but she flowers under people’s scrutiny.”

“I know you love your sister. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m asking why you compare yourself so negatively to her.”

“Have you met Abi, Noah?”

He shrugged. “She has her talents and you have yours. You’re both brilliant, beautiful, highly successful women. I don’t understand why you see yourself as being less than her. To an outsider, it makes no sense.”

Beautiful? Did he just call me beautiful?

“And if you keep comparing yourself to her,” he continued. “You might miss out on new experiences if you don’t accept that you might not be great at everything you try.”

“I started running,” I blurted out. “I’m terrible at it. But I tried it.”

“Good for you,” Noah said, nodding his head.

“And I’m going to keep doing it too, so I can get better. But at the same time, I do think it’s possible to spread yourself too thinly.”

“Maybe that’s true,” he said, his brow furrowed and his eyes fixed to the wall. “I just think you have a lot to offer the world. We all have more inside than we realize, and sometimes it takes something like your sister being ill or . . . my accident to bring that out. This is your chance to rewrite and reinvent yourself a little. You might find you’re better at this stuff than you think.”