Page 13 of Claiming Candy

I feel like a man scorned. Even though she invited me to stay, I think it’s obvious that I’m not really welcome here. Not if I’m not helping. I’m not sure how to fix this.

Running a hand through my hair, I turn around and head back to the lobby. I can’t come up with a solution myself. This is so far out of my element. I’m used to making deals with millionaires and billionaires. I handle paperwork and negotiations, not rolling up my sleeves and putting myself to work.

I can’t lose Candy. That’s completely out of the question. She deserves the world, and I know that I can give it to her. I need to make sure she wants it, that she wants me.

That look on her face… God, this is clearly something that’s really important to her, and I missed it.

“Hey,” I say, walking up to the front desk, pulling the man’s attention away from whatever he’s doing on the computer. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“Of course,” the employee says, putting on a winning smile. I wonder if he’s just as passionate about this place as Candy is. He seems like the type.

“What’s going on in the cafeteria?” I ask, jerking my head in the direction I just came from. “Regular improvements or?”

“Ah, something like that,” he replies, looking a little embarrassed. “It needs more than routine improvements. We’re just doing what we can.”

“Can’t you just pay for the repairs?” I ask. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t funnel their resources into fixing whatever’s going on there.

“If we could afford them, we would,” the man says with a shrug. “For now, we’re just trying to stop the mold from growing any further. We were able to get our hands on some mold-killing paint, so we’re prepping everything now.”

“But are those walls structurally sound? Couldn’t the wood be rotting?” I say, suddenly worried that Candy’s in there. What would happen if anything collapsed?

“That’s why we can’t afford the repairs,” he sighs. “The entire cafeteria and a few other rooms need to be completely gutted. It’s just expensive, and we can’t spare the money for it.”

I hum, drumming my fingers on the top of his desk as I consider my next moves. After a moment, I ask, “Did you get a quote on the expenses?”

“We did,” he says, frowning as he starts typing something on his computer. “It’s the reason we decided to go ahead with the work in there today. The contractors suggested the paint. They said we would be able to hold off on repairs for a few months if we took care of the mold. It’s not a long-term solution, but at least it gives us some time to raise the funds.”

“Have you gotten the chance to look over the money that was raised at the gala?” I say, leaning over to glance at the screen when he turns it toward me.

“That was already allocated to other necessities,” he says, apologetically. “There are tons of expenses that have been put on the back burner for a long time. Finding the mold on the walls was relatively new, and the board of directors didn’t want to use the funds for it. Our hands are tied.”

“Well,” I say, my eyes scanning through the numbers in front of me. The repairs would have eaten up all of the money we raised. “What if someone donated the money and specified what they wanted it to be used for?”

“It would be easier for us to do the repair, I’m sure,” the guy says, the polite customer-service smile he was wearing morphing into something a little more genuine. “It might still take a little bit of fighting with the board, but if the person that made the donation had significant pull in the community, it would be hard for them to deny it.”

I hum, considering that. Then, I point at the screen. “Do you think you could send me a copy of that so I can look it over?”

“Uh, sure!” he replies. I wait for him to get a new message pulled up then give him my email and my accountant’s email. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“Not right now,” I say, touching my pocket when my phone vibrates with the incoming message. “Actually… what if someone were to arrange for the work to be done? What would the board do?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “But I doubt they’d stop it. Even though this is a non-profit organization, they still get paid for the work that they do. They want to stay in favor with the community. Stopping something like that might kill their chances of getting voted in again.”

“Interesting…” I murmur, my eyes flashing back toward the cafeteria where I can hear Candy’s laughter ringing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of us stare at each other for a long moment. I can tell this man wants to ask what I’m thinking or encourage me to make the donation, but he holds his tongue. Even if he did ask, I wouldn’t have a straightforward answer.

I think I know what I want to do, though. There are just some phone calls I’ll have to make to ensure that it’s possible.

“I appreciate your help,” I say, tapping my knuckles on top of his desk twice before heading back to my car.

When I get behind the wheel, I pull out my phone. The first thing I do is send my driver a text, instructing him to bring Candy back to the mansion when she’s done. Then, after I start the car, I connect to the hands-free call feature and ask it to call my accountant.

“Hey,” I say as soon as he answers, pulling out of the parking lot. “I have some questions.”

Chapter Eight

Candy

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