Page 11 of Just Joshing
Duncan Ainsle chuckled, turning to take his seat at the boardroom table. "The children? I could give you a parcel."
I ignored that he was older than my father, had eight children to six wives, and didn’t know the names of the three illegitimate sons he paid support for. This is what I did – I networked.
"Vivian has prepared your coffee." I gestured at the cup and plate of cookies beside it. "I also baked; I hope you don’t mind."
"Ah, buttering me up, are you?" He chuckled at his own joke, reaching out for one of the chocolate chip cookies. He bit into it, moaning.
I waited, sipping my peppermint tea and regretting last night's drunken shenanigans. Dealing with men like Duncan Ainsle took all my concentration on a good day. Today didn't feel like a good day. I had to focus; big donors didn’t just fall from trees. They required perseverance, praise, attention, and lots and lots of pandering.
He ate three cookies, flicking through the proposal in front of him. He ran a finger around the plate, chasing the final crumbs before looking to me. "A new center?"
I replaced my teacup in its saucer, pressing a polished finger to the intercom. "Vivian, can you send some more cookies in please?" I turned back to Duncan, knitting my fingers on the table. "We’ve outgrown the existing premises."
He huffed. "A million?"
I knit my fingers together, smile in place. "As a start. The million will allow us time to scope other buildings, and start fundraising initiatives."
He tapped his hand against the table. "I’m very generous."
I inclined my head, still smiling. "Very."
"The charity dinner would be mine?" He clarified.
"Of course, Mr. Ainsle. It’s essential we have your name to draw others to the cause. We need large donors. Think of all the children you’ll help."
The door opened, permitting one of my admin staff. He hurried in, placing a plate of cookies in front of Duncan. He left, closing the door softly behind him, sealing us in once more.
I waited him out.
"Dinner in my name and I expect a plaque on the new building."
"Of course." I agreed. "Your generosity should be recognized."
He nodded once, almost dismissively, then reached for another cookie. "Now, tell me about that brother of yours. I hear Samuel’s latest project is in Alaska?"
We made chit-chat about Sam and his career, segwaying to my older brothers’ and their various endeavors and investments, before discussing my parents.
As I escorted him out, Duncan raised the one topic I’d managed to avoid. "And I hear that Peter Greenfeld is getting married."
I sucked in a breath. "Yes, to Bess Kirkson."
He paused at the elevator, waiting for the car to arrive. "Shame. Always thought you'd be marrying into the family."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
The doors slid open, and he stepped through, hitting the ground floor button. "Your parents, you know? They wanted a marriage alliance. Always thought it would be between you and the Greenfeld. It made sense." He shook his head. "Shame."
The doors slid closed leaving me standing in my office reception, staring at my reflection in the stainless-steel doors.
"Molly?"
I turned to Vivian, my personal assistant and secretary. She gave me a small, grandmotherly smile. "Did you get it?"
I shook off the malaise that had befallen me. "He signed on the dotted line." I held up my clipboard with his cheque clipped safely to the front. "Now we just have to deliver."
Vivian, her curly grey hair wound tightly in it’s perm, clapped her hands, bouncing on her heels sending her corkscrew curls flying. "I knew it! Just think of those beautiful children we’ll help."
I did. It's what I thought of every day. That and the money we needed.
