SEVEN
“You should come with me,” Tessa said, anxiously flipping through the brochures and paperwork the director had handed over to her. “You’ll be so much better at this than me.”
Iris gave her a warm smile and folded her hands on top of the desk, that stern grandmotherly vibe wafting off of her. “Ms. McAllen, his assistant was very specific. Mr. Vandergriff wants to meet with the founder, not me. And no one is more passionate about this place than you are. You’re going to do great. In fact, I still don’t understand why you don’t take a position here. I’d happily step down to assistant director since I’m only a few years from retirement. This is your baby.”
Tessa tucked the papers in her bag, her palms sweaty already. This was exactly why she hadn’t appointed herself director when she moved back. Just because she had founded the charity didn’t mean she was qualified to run it. She had a high school education and a resume that could barely fill half a page. Hi, can I take your order? was much closer to her skillset than this. Doug hadn’t even let her near the financials of Bluebonnet because he said it would take too long for him to teach her what she was looking at.
How the hell was she supposed to meet with the CEO of some giant company and sound even halfway intelligent? Especially with the pressure of knowing how much was riding on this. Getting selected could mean the answer to her prayers for keeping Bluebonnet open. But if she flubbed it, the hard-working woman sitting in front of her would be out of a job and all those kids she’d passed on her way in would be out of services.
No. She wasn’t going to let that happen. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, yes, I can do this.”
“Of course you can, dear.” Iris’s dark hand covered Tessa’s pale, shaking one, giving it a squeeze. “And if this opportunity doesn’t work out, there will be more. I’ve been sending letters to lots of potential donors. Something will come through. You’ve created a good thing here. Others will see that and want to help.”
Tessa nodded, trying to absorb some of the older woman’s confidence and shake off the veil of guilt that tried to envelop her at Iris’s assertion. Yes, Tessa had created good things here by coming up with the concept and providing the funds via her ex-husband. But the day-to-day miracles belonged to the woman behind the desk and the rest of the staff. The pictures lining the walls were of kids with employees and volunteers who were in the trenches here day to day. The only photos of Tessa were one from opening day when she’
d cut the ribbon they’d tied around the building and another at an awards ceremony. In the grand scheme of it all, Tessa’s role was remote and minor at best—the face of the charity but not the backbone. That fact hadn’t bothered her before, but now it dug into her gut like a burr, sticking there and reminding her of its presence with every breath.
She so didn’t deserve to be the person representing the charity to some bigwig donor today, but it looked like there was no way around it. And maybe, if by some miracle she could pull this off, it would help make up a little for her hands-off approach the last few years.
She gathered all of her documents and stood. “Thank you, Iris, for the pep talk and for everything you do here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you put your soul into this place.”
Iris rose from behind her desk and came around to give Tessa a hug. The move made Tessa stiffen with surprise, but soon she found herself returning the gesture. Iris pulled back and patted Tessa’s cheek. “It’s my pleasure, dear. And we’re glad to have you here in town with us now. That man was no good for you.”
Tessa laughed, caught off guard by the woman’s candor. Usually, she was the consummate professional, never uttering an unkind word toward anyone, except maybe the occasional bless his heart. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Now, go get us that money, girl,” Iris said with a grin. “And don’t you be a stranger around here. This is your home as much as it is ours.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tessa said, feeling an old twinge at the word home. That simple word had always been such a fleeting concept in her life. Any time she thought she had fledgling roots starting to dig in, the sand shifted beneath her again and the rain washed them away. And here once more, life was trying to pull something else out from beneath her.
No, not life this time. Doug.
The bolt of anger that flashed through her at the thought had her shoulders pulling back and her chin tipping up. No freaking way was she letting him win.
No matter what she had to do, she was going to get this money.
She gave Iris a quick good-bye and headed to her car with renewed resolve. Watch out, Mr. CEO, because Tessa McAllen wasn’t taking no for an answer today.
Tessa’s confidence flagged slightly when she arrived downtown and stared up at the gleaming building that held Vandergriff Industries, but she didn’t have time to let all the insecurities rush back in. Her appointment was in less than fifteen minutes, and being late was not an option. She hurried to the bank of elevators and punched the button for the twenty-second floor. On the ride up, she read over the bullet points she’d typed into her phone and practiced her spiel in her head.
Fake it ’til you make it. The little tome Sam had offered kept replaying in her mind. If Tessa acted like she was confident and well-informed, people would believe it. That was the theory at least. And she was well-informed about the charity. Confident? Well, that’d require the faking part.
When she reached the office of Kade Vandergriff, a serious-faced Asian woman lifted a hand in greeting from behind her desk but was on the phone. She motioned for Tessa to have a seat and that she’d be a minute. Tessa sat in one of the cushy chairs along the wall and fought the urge to gnaw on her thumbnail—a childhood habit that liked to resurface at the worst times. Waiting rooms had never been happy places for her. Child services. Principals’ offices. Therapy sessions. Police stations. Waiting rooms usually meant bad news.
The woman put the phone in its cradle and came around the desk to greet Tessa. “You must be Ms. McAllen.”
Tessa stood and put out her hand. “Yes.”
“I’m Maile, Mr. Vandergriff’s assistant.” She shook Tessa’s hand and gave her an almost undetectable once-over, her eyebrow lifting slightly as if she was surprised by what she found. Maybe she’d been expecting an older woman, someone more distinguished to be the founder of a charity.
“Nice to meet you.”
Maile smiled, and it changed her whole face, bringing effortless beauty to the surface. “Same. I’ll let Mr. Vandergriff know you’re here. He should only be a minute.”
“Thank you.”
Maile slipped back behind her desk and lifted the phone again while punching a button. “Ms. McAllen is here to see you.” She gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.”
Tessa gripped her documents close to her chest, butterflies the size of velociraptors crashing around in her stomach.