Page 70 of Dear Pink

“Can we give to the pie society?” Gabe says after swallowing two huge bites of apple and chocolate. “I’m sure pie conservation’s a thing.”

“Give to chocolate lovers?” I counter, making him chuckle.

“That’s the whole world.” He pushes the rest of the chocolate to me. “We don’t have enough money.”

I take a big bite and Gabe signals our waiter for two new coffees.

“A donation in support of the coffee bean roasters?”

“A worthy cause,” I answer with a straight face.

“Turtle conservation?” he asks in a serious voice.

“Is turtle extinction an issue?”

“For sure.”

“I do love Homer.” I point my fork at him. “Keep going.”

“Student scholarships would feel incredible. Directly affecting one kid?”

“I would rather help a person directly than contribute to a large organization.” I nod at him to continue.

“What about bikes? We both love bikes. Are there bike charities?”

We pause and stare at one another, both lost in thought.

“Could we provide bikes to kids who need them?” I finally say.

“Keep talking.” He pushes the last bite of apple pie to me. I shake my head no, and he pops the piece in his mouth.

“Yeah, bikes for disadvantaged children. Great idea. If the program doesn't exist, we could contact local elementary schools and create one.”

“Fifty thousand dollars would buy a ton of bikes,” he says, wiping his face.

“Should we dream bigger?” I ask, my excitement bursting at the seams. I would love to spend Libby’s money to bring kids joy. This feels nice.

“You could split the money as you suggested earlier?”

“Save some for those chocolate lovers?” I smirk.

He smirks back. “Maybe? Or a summer camp program for disadvantaged kids?”

“Ooh. Camp is awesome. I loved the lazy days of summer when I was younger.”

“Me too. Mom and Dad sent the seven of us, probably to catch a much-needed break, but we loved it. Camp Timberlake was old school. We played four square, capture the flag, and kissed in trees,” Gabe says, his eyes bright while he recounts the story. “Damn, I love camp.”

“Yeah. Nothing beats camp,” I agree.

“It’s none of my business,” Gabe’s tone deepens, “but do you actually have fifty thousand dollars set aside for a charity?”

“I do.”

His brows furrow, and I can tell he’s curious where I got the money. If he asks outright, I’ll tell him. Otherwise, I’m not ready for the Libby talk. This day has been too much fun to end on a downer.

“Okay, it’s decided . . . bikes or camp.”

I almost drop my head on the table. I'm seriously relieved he didn’t ask.

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