Page 84 of The Checklist
“I was thinking we do an all-expenses-paid trip to Disney—”
“That’s not happening,” Steve said, raising a dismissive hand. “I’m thinking a staff picnic or a party cruise. Drink tickets, of course. Don’t want people getting out of hand.”
Dylan stopped listening. A level of stillness descended over her that would give the gold-painted street performers in Vegas a run for their money. If Steve was willing to book an expensive party cruise, surely she could find a better return on his investment. The gears of her brain began to grind over her chance encounter with Steve on Friday.
“Hang on ...,” Dylan said, interrupting Steve’s concerns about Technocore’s lax alcohol policy. She had dismissed Tim’s involvement in Crescent thousands of times. But did that mean she needed to dismissTechnocore’s? What if there was a way to do it? Make it bigger, even? Dylan started again, aware that the two men in front of her were waiting. “Steve, you said you met with Mike from Crescent?”
“Wait. What’s this meeting?” Tim leaned in, shocked that a conversation had happened without his knowledge.
“A friend of Dylan’s who was looking for me to donate to his children’s museum. It’s not in my personal philanthropy budget this year, but it sounded like a cool project.”
“What if ...,” Dylan said, exploring the idea as it came to her. “Okay, hear me out. The museum needs a big donation, like, more than one person can give. So what if Technocore paid for the sensory room?”
“That is a lot of money.” Steve’s expression was skeptical, but the words didn’t sound like a hard no.
“Obviously. But I think we have a shot at redemption.” Rotating her wrist to help her think, Dylan added, “What if we went even further? We could partner with Crescent to develop the program. Give everyone in the office community service hours. For example, staff get ten workweek hours a quarter to spend off site at Crescent, helping them develop the tech, install the panels, run the room. Whatever the museum needs.”
“This is exciting!” Tim shouted, bouncing in his organic sneakers. Steve grabbed his collarbone again, and Dylan jumped with surprise.
“Is ... it?” Steve finally asked, releasing his chest.
“Yes! I used to spend hours at Crescent. I love that place. Now Technocore can be intimately involved in the next phase of its development. We’ll have a tremendous impact in shaping the next generation of learners and leaders in Seattle.” Tim stopped shifting around and looked between the two startled members of his audience. “Write that down for the press release.”
“No.” Dylan and Steve spoke at the same time, drawing a look of contrition from Tim.
“I love it,” Tim said, his excitement zinging around the small kitchen. Glancing over at Steve, Dylan could see he was starting to catch some of Tim’s enthusiasm.
“We could launch it as a pilot. If it works with Crescent, maybe we try it with other charities throughout the region. It gives our employees the chance to get involved in something good, explore new skills, et cetera,” Steve said.
“Let’s call this guy now. Get Mike on the phone,” Tim shouted, his cheeks turning a shade of red that was usually indicative of extreme physical exertion.
A thought jolted her like an appliance with a short circuit. What if Mike had already pulled the plug on the room and said no to the money? Surely, even if he never spoke to her again, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt the museum.
“It’s Saturday.” Dylan hated the deadpan in her own voice, but she needed to slow this train down, lest Mike didn’t want her involved anymore and it never left the station.
“So?”
“Who is going to answer?” Steve asked patiently. Clearly he was used to riding out the whiplash effect of Tim’s whims.
“I see. Good point. Dylan, isn’t he, like, your friend or something? Maybe we just pop by his house?”
Dylan balked, unsure of how to explain just how much she did not want to intrude on Mike at the moment. Luckily, Steve stepped in again. “Tim, that would be weird.” Tim opened his mouth to argue the point, but Steve held up a hand and continued, “We can wait forty-eight hours. Let Dylan come up with an implementation plan. I’ll work out numbers. You can join me for the call to tell the museum’s president. Sound good?”
Dylan found herself inadvertently nodding in sync with Tim and stopped.
“Fantastic. Let’s all head up to Tim’s office and get cracking. We have a lot to sort out,” Steve said, clapping his hands and rubbing them like a dad in a TV show.
“Do you know how to work an espresso machine, by chance?” Tim asked as they strode toward the elevator, the bounce lingering in his step. “Otherwise, maybe we should get a coffee machine or two and test them out today. You know, until we hire a new facilities person.”
Dylan smiled despite herself. She had come here in Neale’s hideous sweatshirt, prepared to leave as an ex-employee with exactly no friends, no boyfriend, no job, and nothing but a wardrobe covered in dog fur to show for her time in Seattle. Sure, she still had a new fling who wouldn’t speak to her and no friends outside of two tech dudes, and her wardrobe was still covered in dog fur. But she had a job again, and that was a place to start.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dylan tapped two envelopes on the edge of her desk, attempting to funnel her nerves into something less obvious than pacing as she waited for Deep and Brandt. To say Deep had been less than enthused when Dylan had stopped by her desk this morning would be a disservice to the unenthusiastic everywhere. On the upside, she hadn’t been entirely hostile, so there was progress.
Her heart dropped along with the envelopes as she saw Brandt sloping toward her office door, Deep sulking behind him. Brandt turned the door handle and stuck his head around the edge. “Is now a good time?”
“Yes. Please come in,” Dylan said with more animation than she felt, trying to counteract the apprehension that rolled off her intern.
