Page 2 of The Re-Proposal

“Excuse me.” I swing my gaze to Winifred. “We need a connection so we can—”

“Don’t bother opening your laptop, Miss Maura.”

I blink unsteadily. I don’t need Laura’s whispered warnings or even supernatural writing on the wall to tell me what’s about to happen.

Keeping a plastic grin on my face, I joke, “Are you handing us a check without question, Mr. Winifred? We’ll gladly accept.”

No one laughs.

Winifred glances away as if looking at me is painful.

Laura cringes in second-hand embarrassment.

The silence stretches.

“Like I said, Miss Maura. There won’t be a presentation today.”

My mouth feels dry. I pretend I don’t understand. “No problem. We’re open to reschedule.”

“Reschedule?” Laura mutters behind me. “They’re the ones who told us to show up at eight and left us waiting outside for two hours.”

“Laura,” I hiss.

She shuts her mouth but pins an angry stare Winifred’s way.

The older man leans forward, folds his hands on top of the table and admits, “There’s no easy way to say this. We’re cutting the funding, Miss Maura.”

“For this quarter?” I squeak.

“Forever.”

My expression is a perfect deer-in-the-headlights. Or more accurately, deer-right-before-the-car-makes-impact. My figurative hooves are being swept from under me and I’m landing on someone’s windshield with a crack.

“Why?”

“The company has a new owner and he’s…” Winifred stumbles over his words, seeming to search for one he can share in polite society.

“Psycho?” someone mutters.

“Particular,” Winifred finishes.

“What does your new owner have to do with me?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but our company has been bleeding money. We need to cut off the hemorrhaging.”

“By cutting off the charity? You give less than one percent of your gross income to the project!”

“I’m not arguing with you, Miss Maura.” He gives methatlook. The one that says he thinks I’m nothing more than an emotional creature with zero intelligence.

Panic lashes against my ribs. I’m too desperate to feel offended. “I would happily speak to your new CEO, Mr. Winifred. If you can make an appointment, I’ll sit down with him and explain our joint ventures.”

“That’s not possible.”

The pressure in my chest mounts. The charity’s lifeline is slipping through my fingers. “I’m willing to accept even a portion of last year’s funds. A little goes a long way.”

I can feel Laura’s eyes drilling into my back. She’s practically screamingdon’t bother with these bozos.

She’s right.

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