by C. Morgan
My gaze slid to my sister. A series of interviews? This was the first I was hearing about a series.
How many of these interviews were scheduled? Didn’t Lisa know I hardly had time for the one sit-down appointment with Rebecca? So little time, in fact, that I’d forgotten about said appointment?
I massaged my temple and willed my headache to go away. It didn’t listen. “A series of interviews,” I mused, trying to appear informed in front of Rebecca and accusatory in front of my sister. It was a fine line to walk, but based on the way Lisa scowled at me, I assumed she got the hint.
Before I could say more, my sister cut me off. “Yes, a series of interviews. Don’t you remember when we talked about your plan to document your introduction to charitable giving with Good Fellows?”
I let my hand fall from my temple. Good Fellow’s. Kayla’s Good Fellow’s?
I had agreed to no such terms.
“Good Fellow’s is a great operation,” Rebecca said. “I’ve heard nothing but positive things about it. It’s small, so I suppose I haven’t heard much about it at all. But I’m looking forward to changing that. What made you choose Good Fellow’s?”
I blinked impassively at the journalist.
Lisa crossed one leg over the other and turned herself a little to Rebecca. “Lukas wanted to join forces with a non-profit that worked at the ground level. He had so many opportunities to choose from that it was almost overwhelming. We sifted through everything, and when we came across Good Fellow’s, it became obvious that it was the place we could make the most positive change.”
One of Rebecca’s dark eyebrows arched as she scrawled in her notebook. Presumably, she was writing what Lisa had said on my behalf.
I studied my sister as she continued speaking.
“Lukas is excited to jump into this new journey. He’s very passionate about helping people and giving back to his community. Timing has never been better. After laying a foundation for the past several years, he’s ready to get centered, put on an apron, and get to work.”
Put on an apron? Who did my sister take me for?
Rebecca Mills asked about ten questions, all of which my sister answered gracefully. She spoke highly of me—too highly—and by the time the forty-five minutes appointment slot expired, Rebecca seemed ready to put a pin in things. She got to her feet, smoothed out her skirt, and collected her purse from the floor. She kept her notebook clutched in one hand as I stood and leaned across the desk to shake her hand once more.
“It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Holt,” Rebecca said. “I look forward to sitting down to ask you more questions and hearing answers in your own words next time.”
Lisa turned bright pink beside the journalist.
“Thank you for your time,” I managed to say as I kept my irritation in check.
Rebecca exited my office and I buzzed my assistant to see her out. As soon as I knew the coast was clear and Lisa and I were alone, I rounded on her.
“What the hell are you playing at, Lisa?”
My sister stepped back and her eyebrows pinched together. “What am I doing? I’m saving your reputation, you ungrateful brat. I knew you would never agree to the interviews if I told you ahead of time, so I did my job, Lukas. You need me. You hired me to help you. And that’s what I’m doing.”
I waved her off. “You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. If you insist on philanthropy, I can have my accountant cut you a check and you can handle things. How much do you want? Five hundred thousand? Eight? A million? You tell me. Let’s just get this over with.”
Lisa planted her fists on her hips. “You’re delusional. That’s lazy. It’s not going to help at all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Throwing a million dollars into charity isn’t going to help at all? Maybe I’m not the one who needs to check my priorities.”
“If you do these interviews, you’ll be on the vanguard. You’ll be the tech CEO leading the charge into philanthropy. You’ll be a damn trend setter, Lukas! Do you realize how much of a difference you could make in people’s lives if you just—just—”
“Just what?”
Lisa bit her bottom lip. “Cared about something.”
“I care about plenty of things.”
“You care about the bottom line.” Lisa took a menacing stop forward. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I stared down the length of my nose at her. My sister had always been a trifle too dramatic for my tastes. Every conversation was a battle with her.
“You need to trust me, Lukas,” she said. “This is what you hired me for.”
“I hired you to make improvements, not complicate things for me.”
“How is asking you to do the right thing complicating things?”
I rolled my eyes. We were running in circles here. “Fine, Lisa. Fine. Let’s just do whatever you think is best. Whatever will get you off my back.” My head pulsed and pressure was building behind my eyes. I just wanted this conversation to be over with.
“Fine,” she said coldly. “I’ll set something up with Kayla. Something simple. Minimal effort because I guess that’s going to be your approach to this since you won’t make money off of it.”
“For fuck sakes, Lisa.”
“You and Kayla can have some pictures taken. Rebecca will publish her article with the pictures, and a few weeks after it’s published and everyone loves you, we can switch to just cutting checks to charities for the tax deduction. Am I speaking your language now?”
“Don’t get sour with me.”
“Sour with you?” Lisa asked incredulously. She threw her head back and laughed like she was the villain of a superhero movie. “Oh my goodness, Lukas. You’re the sour one! I’ve been doing cartwheels for weeks trying to figure out how to help you, and now that I finally have a plan—a plan that I know without a shadow of a doubt will be effective, I might add—you’re acting like all I am to you is a huge inconvenience.”
I prickled. That was not entirely how I felt.
Lisa sighed and shook her head at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get cross with you. This has all just been a lot of work to put into play and I feel like you’re not appreciating anything I’m trying to do.”
“I’m a busy man, Lisa. And I don’t appreciate being ambushed.”
“Well, you left me with little options.”
“Even so,” I grumbled. “You’ve done this to me several times. If you weren’t my sister, I’d fire you.”
“And if you weren’t my brother, there are a couple of things I’d like to do to you, too.”
A beat passed and Lisa smiled wryly at me.
I smiled back. “I know you have my best interests at heart, so I’ll try. Okay? I’ll try.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“But if things go bad and it costs me, it’s on your head. Do you understand?”
Lisa nodded. “I understand. All you have to do is trust me. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”
Chapter 8
Kayla
My online calendar taunted me as I added in yet another commitment: the Lukas Project.
Everything related to Lukas Holt and my responsibility of changing him from a bad boy tech CEO into a compassionate philanthropist success story was noted in blue. Food drives were yellow, soup kitchen shifts were orange, Good Fellow’s commitments were pink, and budgets were green. Purple was supposed to indicate leisure and social time, but there wasn’t much of that on the calendar.
I sighed and considered all the blue coming up in my calendar.
I’d spent a lot of time thinking of ways to ease Lukas into what I did for a living. Somehow, I had to find a way to show him that there was more to my work than dreary homeless shelters and canned-food drives, although that was a big portion of the gig. I doubted those would be the right ways to pull him into a new lifestyle however. I needed something vibrant. Something he could sink his teeth into.
Something fun.
“I have just the thi
ng,” I muttered to myself as I reached for my mug of lukewarm green tea. I took a sip and wished it was hotter but didn’t bother getting up to add more hot water to it from the kettle. My office was a modest place, probably a quarter of the size of Lukas’, but it had all the fixings I needed. I had an electric kettle to make tea any time I pleased, a water cooler, a sofa, an old desk I found at a thrift shop that I’d painted white, a relatively comfortable computer chair, my laptop, and the odd decor piece I’d brought from home to spruce up the place.
My office sat nestled between a coffee shop and a hair salon. Beside the salon was a tattoo parlor, and beside the parlor was a financial services company that, in my not so humble opinion, did more harm than good by giving loans to people who they knew they’d make interest off of.
It wasn’t the best part of the city, but it wasn’t all that bad either, which meant I could afford the rent without having to sacrifice safety.
I flipped through my calendar to Friday and smiled. There it was, the thing that might suck Lukas into charity.
I’d arranged a partnership with a local disadvantaged youth community organization to head out into the countryside on the outskirts of Seattle where we would spend time on a generations-old family farm. The game plan was to pick apples for some fun engagement and also learn about nutrition and growing your own food. I’d been busting my butt to make sure it would be an engrossing activity for the kids and I’d been in contact with one of the daughters at the farm, who often hosted days like this with community groups, elementary schools, and daycares.
I had not disclosed to her, however, that I was bringing along a guest.
A wealthy, handsome, headstrong, abrasive guest.
With any luck, he’d find the day at the farm enjoyable or at the very least satisfactory.
I thought back to when we were younger. Even back then when there were so many less things to worry about besides being back home by dinner, he’d been the serious kid. He spent most of his time indoors on an old computer he’d put together himself. It took him six months to collect all the necessary bits and pieces, of course. Things like that didn’t fall into the laps of kids like us. We had to pick them up where we could. He spent a lot of time recycling cans and bottles he’d collect from the neighborhood to save up enough money to hit pawn shops or computer repair shops to see if the owners had any spare pieces they wouldn’t need. Over time, he succeeded.
After that, we all saw a lot less of Lukas. Where he used to come out and play kick the can with us, he started to become somewhat of a recluse. Lisa saw more of him than the rest of us. Sometimes, she told me how much she missed her older brother. She told me she’d try to sit with him in his room sometimes but he’d be so absorbed in the work he was doing that he’d hardly notice she was there.
Eventually, she gave him what he wanted and left him alone.
There was one thing he did enjoy though, I recalled.
My mother worked at a bakery during those days. Sometimes, she’d bring home orders that were never picked up by customers. Other times, she’d bring home products that didn’t sell and were on their last day before expiring. This meant my house always had something reheating in the oven, whether it was apple pies, peach cobblers, or cinnamon cakes.
It was on one of these nights that the apartment door was open. Lisa and I were in the living room playing with our dolls on the floor while my mother hovered over the stove, checking on an apple pie in the oven. Lukas came by to pick Lisa up and walk her back to their building, and he mentioned how good it smelled in the apartment.
My mother, being the angel that she was, cut him a slice of pie, spruced it up with some whipped cream, and handed it to him on a paper plate.
I smiled at the memory of how fast Lukas had devoured that slice of pie.
He’d practically inhaled it. My mother cut him another and sent him home with one for his own mother. Whether or not she saw that piece, we would never know. My mother used to joke that he probably ate it on his way back and swore Lisa to secrecy that no such pie ever existed.
Every time an apple pie came home with my mother after a shift at the bakery after that day, she sent me to his apartment with it. Lukas’ fridge was often empty, and once it became a regular thing, he always made sure to save half for his mother. His gratitude had been obvious and I’d loved to see him smile. It was something I didn’t see as much as I used to.
Had I even seen Lukas smile since that meeting with him and Lisa at his office the other day?
No, I don’t think I had. He’d grimaced, frowned, scowled, pursed his lips thoughtfully, and brooded. But smiled?
No such luck.
Hopefully, our day at the farm would change things. I’d arranged for a bakery close to the farm to deliver freshly baked pies in the afternoon for everyone to enjoy before the education part of the day began. In my experience, people, especially kids, were more likely to pay attention when they had full, happy bellies.
There was no doubt in my mind the same principle could be applied to Lukas.
Maybe the pies would bring up some nostalgia for him and he would remember that it wasn’t all bad growing up with no money. I’d always believed there were worse things than being poor. We had our mothers. Our friends. Each other. For me, that was more than enough.
But at some point, it had stopped being enough for him.
As if my thinking about him had summoned him, I looked up when my desk fell into shadow. Lukas stood outside my office door, reading my name painted beneath the words “Good Fellow’s” written on the glass in yellow and blue paint. He frowned, reached for the handle, and tugged it open. He was wearing sunglasses—designer brand, I assumed—and a white shirt with a black tie. His pants were black, his shoes properly shined, and a silver watch glistened at his wrist as he removed his sunglasses and hooked them in the collar of his shirt. His eyes scanned my office before landing on me.
His eyebrows lifted as if surprised to see me there. In my own office. Working.
I swallowed and stood up. “Hi.”
Lukas turned in a slow circle, sizing things up. He slid his hands in his pockets. “Where are your employees?”
“Oh, um, I don’t have any.”
He stared blankly at me.
I giggled nervously and hated how insecure it sounded. I cleared my throat and lifted my chin. “I don’t have employees but I have volunteers who help out when I need it. Occasionally, I’ll get an intern from a local high school who is interested in pursuing non-profit studies in college but those are getting fewer and farther between.”
“So,” he said slowly, his voice deep and gruff, “you handle all of this yourself?”
I wasn’t sure what he was referring to when he said “all of this.” My office was not all that impressive. Sure, I had a white board full of scribbles and commitments on one wall and a box of overflowing paperwork on my desk, but it was messy organization, and that still counted as organization.
“Yes,” I said because it seemed like the only answer available.
He whistled, and I blushed.
Why did he make me feel so uncertain? I’d known him since I was just a little girl. I shouldn’t be this flustered.
“I’ve been doing some research,” he said smoothly. “I’ve seen the impact your organization has made on the community. Not to mention the good will some local companies have garnered from working with you. You have an impressive reputation here. I suppose I expected to walk in and find you barking orders at people in blue T-shirts with yellow ball caps that said ‘Good Fellow’s’ on them.”
The hint of something lingered in the corner of his lips. A smile perhaps?
You’re not that lucky.
“I like to keep my overhead low,” I said. I waved one arm around the office in a sweeping gesture. “Hence the nonexistent staff and small office in one of the lowest-rent districts in the city.” I laughed nervously and kept some other things to myself. Like the fact that my salary was also budget c
onscious and I only made enough to scrape by. Every dollar available went to the people I worked my ass off to help.
Lukas nodded at the chair in front of my desk. It was a faded old thing made of wood that really belonged in a woodsy backyard or something, not a professional woman’s office. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“Please do.” I wished I’d invited him to sit before he’d had to ask. Stupid mistake, Kayla. Stupid. I sat down as well and watched the man before me. His eyes continued to scan the office, lingering briefly on my collection of books stacked haphazardly on top of my paint-chipped filing cabinet.
He looked conflicted.
Was he going to fire me before even giving me a chance to prove how good I was at my job? Had he decided not to go forward with Lisa’s plan? Did he truly not care about the people in this city who desperately needed help from people like him?
I chewed the inside of my cheek until it was raw and my mouth tasted like copper. “What can I do for you, Lukas?”
His dark blue gaze landed on me and I wished I could disappear. He did not smile. “I wanted to talk.”
I licked my lips. “Okay.”
“About my terms.”
“Terms?”
He nodded, and I lost his attention again as he continued to inspect every nook and cranny of my office. For the first time in my career, I felt insecure about the old ceiling tiles, the chipped and missing baseboards, and the dull clinic-blue walls.
Chapter 9
Lukas
I didn’t know what I’d been expecting when I decided to drive down to Good Fellow’s Headquarters, but it certainly wasn’t the one-woman show I’d walked into.
Kayla was singlehandedly running an entire non-profit, and she was doing it all from this little office.
