Page 91 of Dropping the Ball

He shrugs. “I don’t know why Gordon himself isn’t doing more to clean up a mess he made, and I’m not interested in trying to improve his image. I admire the work your foundation is doing, but when it comes to our charitable giving, we’ve already got partnerships with local causes. We’re Austin strong. We bleed burnt orange, run on Torchy’s Tacos, and give back in our community.”

“I can’t be mad at that.” But in some ways, it’s the worst answer he could give me, because his concern is fundamental, not something I can fix with a tweak to the slide deck. “Thanks for being honest with me.”

“No problem. I’ll walk you all the way out this time, since I’m leaving too.”

“Is it okay if we take the stairs?”

He laughs and gestures for me to lead the way.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kaitlyn

Drake handed me theanswer I need and don’t want. This cause is too distant to the people we’re asking to donate.

I brood over it. Obsess over it.

We can depend on the gala guests to throw big money at whatever we put in front of them. The impulse to flex in front of peers will kick in. But we have a massive supply problem, and I don’t know if it’s solvable. As much as I care about Threadwork and the people in Dhaka it helps, Drake’s critique is fair.

That afternoon, Micah texts.

How did the meeting go?

No to the auction

Tell your family

I think about it. Long and hard. About the looks on their faces. About the stress this will put on Madison. About how Madison’s stress will weigh on Oliver. Maybe even Harper.

I think about something else all day too. Micah’s words. That maybe the task was never possible. More than anything else, I think about how even knowing how big my failure is, Micah still has faith in me. Not that I can do it, but that if I can’t do it, it can’t be done.

That is more faith than anyone has ever had in me.

The full weight of it hits me. Micah’s faith in me is completedespitemy failures. He was there for me last night. He wants to be there for me today, tomorrow, the day after that. He told me that. He’sshownme that. And I saidThanks but no thanks, gotta study.

I am an idiot.

I am the world’sbiggestidiot.

I check the time. It’s almost 4:00. I grab my purse from my desk drawer and almost run out of the office. “Headed out! Everyone else should go too! See you Monday.”

The office door closes on the sound of three cheers.

I get in the car and curse every extra minute the holiday weekend traffic slows me in getting to the warehouse, but when I arrive, a few vehicles are still in the parking lot, including Micah’s truck.

Inside, it’s much noisier than I’m used to. The high whine of a saw and the pounding of several hammers cover the sound of the door opening and closing behind me. I don’t see Micah anywhere, but the guy running the saw spots me and turns it off. He’s standing on the other side of the beginnings of the staircase, and he looks down and says something with a nod in my direction.

Micah rises next to him, and suddenly there is six-feet-plus of sexy architect staring at me across the warehouse. He’s wearinga Santa hat, and that’s when I register the rest of the changes. Sometime today, they’ve made a rebar Christmas tree in the middle of the floor, hung with empty soda cans, wood scraps, and a few paper snowflakes.

I put on a hard hat and walk toward Micah. He says something to the guy on the saw, who nods and goes back to work. He swaps his Santa hat for a hard hat and walks to meet me by the Christmas tree.

“Hey,” he says. “Surprise inspection?”

I can barely hear him over the saw and point to the supervisor loft. He turns and I follow him to the corner with the elevator. He pauses and mouths, “It’s fixed.”

I smile and press the call button. The door slides open. We step in and the noise outside drops by half when they shut. We don’t say anything as it makes its short trip, but when the doors start to slide open, I push the Door Close button.

“Hey,” I say at normal volume. “I liked the Santa hat.”

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