Page 90 of Dropping the Ball

He means it, and I pause to give him another smile. It’s good to remember that most of us do grow up.

“Because we’ve had a unique long-term perspective from our place inside the Bangladesh economy, she also founded a nonprofit organization dedicated to help Bangladeshi garment workers who want to change or advance in their careers.”

This is where potential donors smile or give encouraging nods, or say something like “That’s great. Love to hear it.” Drake’s eyes narrow in a speculative way, but his expression doesn’t otherwise offer any clues about what he’s thinking.

“I’d love to show you how Threadwork does our work.” I reach into my bag for my iPad and hold it up, an unspoken question. When he nods, I set it on the desk, moving through the slide deck in five perfectly paced minutes.

“Any questions so far?” I ask as I close the iPad.

“Just one. What do you need from me?”

Again, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. His tone is pleasant but neutral.

“We’re hosting our first annual New Year’s gala, a high fashion luxury experience.” I explain the highlights of the night, concluding, “It sold out months ago. But we anticipate raising an additional two million dollars during our live auction with the help of our generous guests.” I draw two tickets from my handbag. “For the generous donors who help us round out ourauction offerings, we would be honored to also have you as our guests with our compliments.”

His eyes shift from the tickets to me. “What kind of donation are you hoping for?”

“You know this crowd. They’d love to win a public auction by overpaying for a luxury car, generously donated by your family.” I summon the smile I’ve been practicing, one I’ve borrowed from Madison and injected with as much of her shamelessness as I can fake. “Maybe an extra Porsche you have lying around?”

Drake smiles back. “Respect for the big ask, Kaitlyn. But I have to say no.”

My smile doesn’t dim by a single watt. “It’s a good thing we’d be happy taking something like a Mustang. There will be parents in our crowd planning to send their first kids off to college next fall who would love to know the money they spent on that college car went to a good cause.”

I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. His smile fades, and he’s already shaking his head.No. Don’t say no,I will him with my mind. But the word is already coming out of his mouth.

“We can’t do that,” he says. “We’re committed to philanthropy, but we’ve also committed our funds for the year. If we were to go beyond that, it would have to be the right cause, and I don’t think this is it.”

I don’t want to feel the disappointment trying to engulf me, so I don’t. I push it away withmysmile, the Kaitlyn Armstrong special. Serene, graceful, slightly enigmatic. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I understand philanthropic priorities. I appreciate you making the time to see me, even after an elevator made me ghost you last night.”

His smile is back, and he stands, signaling the end of our meeting. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted, but I’m not sorry I got to see you again, Kaitlyn. Glad you’re doing well. I’ll walk you out.”

A Texas gentleman. He had to grow up some to get there, but that’s what he is, through and through. He leads me through the outer office, but as he reaches for the glass door to the hall, I remember something.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I had a pair of Copperhead alligator boots in gray for you last night, but I forgot to bring them with me this morning. I’ll make sure to send them over.”

He smiles and makes a big show of looking down at his feet. I follow his gaze to his black Copperhead Thorntons. “Come on, Kaitlyn. You didn’t think I was going to meet with an Armstrong in anything but my best boots, did you?”

I shake my head, laughing despite my disappointment. “You’re a good egg, Drake. Have a great time in Vail.”

“Will do.”

My smile stays painted on until the door to the stairwell closes behind me. I replay the meeting as I take the two flights down, but when I reach the bottom, I pause.

I’d given him my best presentation so far. Impassioned but professional. Results-focused so he could see where his donation would go. It’s clear he has a good opinion of me. I suspect we’d be friends if we made more of an effort to cross paths.

That pitch should have worked, and I believe Drake will be honest about why it didn’t.

I march back up the stairs. Drake is pulling on his suit coat when I tap on his open door, and he looks at me in surprise as he tugs the sleeves down. “Hey.”

“Can I ask why you said no? I’m not trying to change your mind. I’ve done everything I can to make this a compelling proposal, and I need to know what I’m missing. I’m hoping you’ll tell me.”

He gives a single nod, like he gets it. “Threadwork Discovery Gala, presented by Armstrong Industries.”

“You don’t like the name?”

“I don’t love the cause. I respect the hell out of you and Madison trying to make up for the damage the company did. I understand why you’d feel like you need the company to sponsor the fundraiser. A lot of people would say it’s a smart PR move.”

“But not you?”

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