Chapter 2: An Unfortunate Meeting
You should have hired the extra intern, Max.
The little voice in Maxine Cousins’ head jeered at her as she roamed the store. Her hesitation about spending more money on another person to help her run Hope For All, the city’s largest philanthropic organization was coming back to bite her in the butt just hours after she had rejected the last applicant for the position. Now her organizer for the biggest fundraiser of the year was expecting her to find a suitable gift to present to their biggest donor, EM Media, that was in keeping with the motto of Hope For All and that was within their budget.
The oversight was extraordinary and upsetting. Although they had a caterer for the event, and everything had already been arranged, somehow they had managed to overlook the one thing that Max wanted to become her signature gesture to their donors…a gift that showed the connection between Hope For All and the donor being given the gift. How had they managed to miss EM Media in their shopping? They had spent a whole month fine-tuning the gifts they wished to give, shopping online, comparing prices, discarding ideas as too sappy or silly or fake. Finally, they had chosen the tokens and had ordered them. And they had all arrived, except for the one for EM Media, which had never even been ordered.
Cursing silently, she stepped past a woman pushing a baby carriage and rounded the corner of the electronics store, bumping into a large wall of hard muscle. The man kept moving, as though he hadn’t felt her body against his, almost mowing her down. Already irate, Max lost her temper.
“Excuse me, asshole, how about you back up and watch where the hell you’re going?”
The minute she spoke the words she had been thinking, Max felt her face heat with color. She had a quick temper, but she had learned through long experience never to speak in anger. And yet here she was losing it in spectacular fashion with some random stranger in a store at the mall. She chalked it up to her stress levels, which were at an all-time high. She was new to being the director of Hope For All, and having begun her tenure at the busiest time of the year, she felt somewhat overwhelmed. None of which was an excuse for her rudeness to the man who was even now staring down at her as though she had two heads.
“I beg your pardon?” His tone was scandalized.
The part of Max’s brain that was detached from the situation smiled at his obvious consternation and shock at her words. He had every right to be shocked…who lost their temper like that over an accidental bump in a crowded store? No one ever except, apparently, Maxine Cousins, probably soon-to-be-fired new director of an organization that preached tolerance and patience, if word ever got out about this little fracas. Still, he had kept walking without even so much as an apology, so she had a right to be at least irritated.
“You just kept walking as though you hadn’t bumped into me once already. An apology would have been nice.”
Max, what the hell are you doing? You should shut it before you are ejected from the store.
“Maybe I would have offered one, if I hadn’t bumped into a shrew with the manners of a fish wife,” the man said, his gray eyes darkening with anger. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
He stepped past her, and that was when she saw the child he was holding by the hand. Shame washed over her as he strode away. Hopefully the little boy hadn’t noticed her, but that she could so completely have lost her mind as to accost a parent in the presence of his child was cringe-worthy even on her worst bad day. She stayed where he’d left her, stunned by his succinct summary of her character and charms. A shrew and a fish wife…she felt like a slug. Anger welled inside her, not just at the arrogant man who had so easily decided she wasn’t worth his time, but also at herself for precipitating the whole ugly episode. When would she learn to rein in her temper?
She had to focus to remember why she had been in the store to begin with, but after another fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, during which she tried to find an appropriate token for their biggest supporter, she gave up and left in disgust. She’d have to come up with something innovative to reward whoever showed up to represent the media giant. She hadn’t really paid attention to who had accepted the invitations that had gone out two months earlier, passing all of them on to her secretary, who managed the business side of things. Her secretary Jen had offered to help her find the token, but Max couldn’t let the poor young woman stay late another evening. She had already caused Jen to miss two dates with her soon-to-be-husband, and they had planned a weekend away to make up for it. She wasn’t about to get in the way of that. It was the least she could do.
The fundraiser was two nights away, and she was at a loss as to what to give as a token of the organization’s esteem and respect. Maybe she needed to do a bit of research, find out something about the person who ran EM Media. If she could see how he ran his company, maybe that would give her some idea of what to get. She hurried out of the store, intent on doing some Google searches of a more personal nature. She didn’t even know what the CEO of EM Media looked like. It would be nice if she recognized him on Sunday night, instead of having to fumble her way. God forbid she should start off on the wrong foot with her charity’s best benefactor.
Her two cats greeted her, twin looks of disapproval marking their unblinking glares as she finally walked in the front door of her condo. She would normally have fed them an hour ago, and it was clear they were not best pleased with her. Kicking off her heels, Max hurried to the kitchen to retrieve the dry cat food that she fed them in the evenings, added water to their bowls, and suffered Harriet’s punishing nip at her finger. She deserved it, she knew, and Harriet was, after all, an ancient female. At fifteen, she had long passed her sell-by date, but she was as opinionated and snooty as she had been the day Max had gotten her as a kitten.
“I know, and I’m sorry, Harriet. I’ll do better from now on.”
She reached over to scratch the cat’s head, and was rewarded with a head bump and a purr before she turned her back on Max and got down to eating. Ozzie, her twin brother, was too busy scarfing down the food to pay Max any mind. She chuckled and scratched him under his chin, before washing her hands and pulling one of the glass bowls with food from the fridge. Popping it in the microwave, she fetched a dinner plate, put the last of the green salad she had bought the day before onto it, and then placed the hot food next to it. Going to the kitchen table, she set it down, and went to get a fork, salad dressing, and a bottle of water. Finally, she fetched her tablet and settled down to eat and Google.
She had to begin with a general search, since she didn’t know the CEO’s name. She put ‘CEO of EM Media’ in the search box and a long list of entries popped up. She clicked on the first one. It was a newspaper article about Everett Morgan — so that was his name — on the anniversary of his wife’s death. Max’s heart wrenched. So he was a widower. She couldn’t imagine losing a significant other. Her parents had been divorced by the time she was a preteen, and her mother had died from ovarian cancer when she was a junior in high school. She rarely saw her father anymore, though lately that had been her fault not his.
Shaking off the unhappy trend of her thoughts, she went back to the Google search, and read a few more articles about the work his company did, as well as the artists and authors that they represented, she was impressed by the apparent social conscience of the man and his organization. Hope For All wasn’t just a tax write-off to him, it seemed, but something close to his heart. She searched for videos, and stopped on one that was fifteen minutes long, on the nightly television series that often interviewed big time media moguls. Finishing her meal, which she had eaten without noticing what she ate or how it tasted, she swallowed some water and pushed the plate away, setting the tablet squarely in front of her…and froze when she saw the man who appeared on the screen.
Every hair on her body rose in horror. The man she had cursed at in the store not two hours ago was none other than Everett Morgan. The interview began, but Max did not see any of it. Instead, she was reliving the encounter earlier in which she had called him an asshole and he had called her a shrew and a fish wife. Shit! Whatever could go wrong just had…and if she still had a job on Monday morning, she’d consider herself more than lucky. What the hell was she to do now? She couldn’t unsay the things she had said, or correct the behavior that had had him trading insults with her.
Trying to still her trembling hands, she replayed the video clip, and paid attention to everything he said. He had a son, a toddler it sounded like, his wife had died in childbirth, he was still currently single, and he had no plans to marry anyone, no matter what the tabloids said. That made her curious. What did the tabloids say? A search of those showed her a whole other side to this man. Apparently he was a mega playboy, if the long line of women he squired around from event to event was any indication. He’d been a recluse for a long while after his wife’s death, and then he’d come back into the limelight with a bang.
Max checked out the women he escorted and they were all exceptionally beautiful, very talented, smart, sexy women. Trust him never to be seen with a plain Jane. A guy like him, who could have his pick of women, would never in a million years choose to be with someone who was less good-looking than he was. And Max had to admit, now that she was making herself look at him, that he was one handsome devil. ‘Devil’ being the operative word, she reminded herself. The tabloids might exaggerate outrageously, but where there was smoke, there was fire, even if it wasn’t the raging inferno the papers might want to make it appear to be. So he was clearly a playboy. What could she possibly offer, on behalf of Hope For All, to a playboy?
Her head began to ache. This was a nightmare. She had some major ass-licking to do on Sunday night and she had to top it off with a gift he would appreciate. She leaned back, thinking about how he seemed to care for his son, and wondered if perhaps she could reach him best through a gift to his son. She checked the articles again. The little boy was three. What did three-year-olds like to do? She did some more searching and decided after about half an hour to buy the child a book about different kinds of families — because Hope For All represented a kind of family for the people who it served — and a color and pattern puzzle game. She made sure she’d be able to get both in the local bookstore, and finally felt relaxed enough to shower and go to bed.
Next morning she was up bright and early, waiting at the bookstore for its doors to open so she could make her purchases. She had them gift wrapped together and added a card wishing Everett Morgan and his son a happy holiday. She was tempted to add in her apology, so she wouldn’t have to face him, but thought the better of it. She might be a lot of things, but she wasn’t a coward, and an apology on a card was tasteless at best. Satisfied that she had kept true to the spirit of gift-giving from Hope For All, she went to get her nails done, had her hair done, and then indulged in a facial before finally calling it a day and going back home to her cats.
The dress she had chosen to wear was an emerald green and blue silk maxi dress. It was form fitting to her knees, and then flared out to the hem. Long sleeves touched her wrists, and the off-the shoulder neckline emphasized her neck and shoulders to advantage. She would wear her emerald jewelry set and high-heeled slippers to match the dress. She spent the rest of the evening binge watching “Grey’s Anatomy” and fell into bed after midnight.
The first thing on Max’s mind when she woke up on Sunday morning was Everett Morgan, and the fact that later she would need to eat crow and suck up the humiliation of having to apologize to a man she hoped would not hold her irrational and rude actions against her and the organization she was supposed to be leading. She had a hearty lunch, since she knew there’d be dinner at the event but she didn’t want to arrive with an empty stomach. Apologies were best made when there was little threat of throwing up. Already, she could feel the tension rising inside her as she waited for the time to get ready. She called the event organizer to inform her that she had found and gift-wrapped a suitable gift for the main contributor and that she would be bringing it with her. She called the caterer who assured her that the food was ready and already on site.
Then she spent almost two hours trying to decide what to do with her hair. Although she had just had it washed and conditioned, and they had put in the bantu knots for her, she didn’t feel like wearing those to this occasion. Should she wear it down, and let the waves show or should she pin it up in an elegant chignon? Maybe a big bun on top? Maybe straighten it? None of them appealed. In the end, she did some twists and took a shower, letting the steam soak into the hair, to help the twists set. Before she did her makeup and dressed, she spritzed her hair with the setting spray and then held the blow dryer over it briefly. Finally, once everything else was in place, she loosened the twists and finger-combed them so that they fell to her shoulders in soft, shining waves. She liked the effect…no one would know she hadn’t spent hours perfecting the look. If only they knew!
The sun had already almost disappeared from the sky when Max arrived at the venue. The valet took her keys and she pulled her faux fur coat securely around her as she walked up the steps into the lobby. People had already begun to mill about, and Max smiled and shook hands and gave air kisses to people she vaguely remembered or didn’t know at all. When Carrie, the event organizer, showed up at her elbow within a few minutes of her arrival, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank God you’re here!” Carrie exclaimed. “People have begun asking for you.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Why? The party doesn’t start for another half hour.”
“You’re the big cheese in this organization. Get used to being in demand.” Carrie grinned and then added, “Is this the mystery gift?”
Max nodded. “Mr. Morgan has a three-year-old. I thought I’d do better buying him a gift than his dad, but one that his dad will hopefully appreciate.”
“Clever woman,” Carrie said approvingly, taking the gift-wrapped package from Max. “No wonder they made you the boss.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me,” Max said, laughing, “but you might want to practice on some of these people who’ve come tonight. We can use all the extra funds they can spare. Go sweet talk them!”
“No problem, boss,” Carrie said, “but you need to go mingle in the ballroom. I understand that the CEO of EM Media will be a little late, and that he may be bringing his son.”
Max looked at Carrie in surprise. “That would be…different. I wonder what happened to the nanny? I mean, I can’t imagine a man like that doesn’t have a nanny for his kid.”
“Beats me,” Carrie answered. “I’ll just go put this with the other gifts. See you at seven.”
Max turned and made her way to the ballroom, which had been transformed into a dining and dancing space. Doors on either side of the large room opened to a full bar and to a wide balcony. The press of people was growing as she made her way forward, stopping to make nice and press the flesh like a good politician, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. When Carrie gave her the signal, she made her way to the head table while Carrie stood at the podium and spoke into the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?” When the guests turned her way she went on, “Please make your final cocktail choices and make your way to your places. Our evening is about to begin.”
The chatter gradually quieted as people made their way to their assigned seats. Max noted that the place on her left was still empty when Carrie began to speak. She knew who would be sitting there, and her nerves twanged as she tried to concentrate on what her assistant was saying.
“Hope For All is happy to welcome you to our annual holiday gala. We have enjoyed a very successful year, but none of it would have been possible without the generous support of all our benefactors. This is the event where we celebrate our partnership with all of you, and where we show you the depth of our appreciation. This year saw a change in administration, and we are pleased to introduce to you our new Director of Development and Philanthropic Programs, Dr. Maxine Cousins. Dr. Cousins, let the guests see your face, please.”
Max stood up just as the last guest walked through the doors with a little boy in tow. Max felt all the color drain from her face, and she steadied herself with a hand on the table, forcing a smile to her lips. Polite applause greeted her, and she sat down hastily, wondering where the child would sit as there was only room for his father at the table. She needn’t have worried. Everett Morgan walked around behind the guests to his spot and sat down, keeping the chair far enough back that he could seat his son on his lap. He showed no signs of having recognized her, for which she was grateful, but she knew that her reprieve wouldn’t last long.
Carrie introduced the others at the head table, including their chief benefactor who waved to the assembled guests without standing. Then dinner was announced, and while the soup was being served, Max racked her brain for something to say to break the ice, to begin the apology she knew she had to give before it was her turn to speak. She finally hazarded a glance to her left and found Everett Morgan’s son staring at her.
“Daddy, the fish lady!” he exclaimed after a long pause in which Max had been transfixed by his gaze.
His father turned his head and looked directly at her for the first time and answered his son without taking his eyes off her.
“That’s a silly thing to say, buddy! You can see she’s not a fish.”
His face showed no expression until his son said, “But Daddy, you said…” He smiled then, a sardonic thing that made Max cringe as he interrupted the boy.
“I didn’t call her a fish, buddy! I called her a fish wife. That’s a whole other thing. Now, stop staring at the lady and eat your soup.”
Max felt anger and shame warring inside her. She had brought this whole mess on herself, and now she had to sit quietly and bear the humiliation of it. How was she to make it through the evening when she wanted a hole to open beneath her chair and swallow her? She had to do something to counteract her body’s reaction, which at the moment was a trembling she could not seem to control. She pushed her chair back, excusing herself, and walked away, finding a side door so she could exit the room and catch her breath.
Once in the hallway, she heaved great gulps of air and clasped her hands tightly together, hoping the shakes would subside. After about five minutes, when her heart had stopped its mad racing and her hands were cold but steady, she went in search of Carrie and pulled her aside. She would begin to make amends first by finding a suitable seat for Everett Morgan’s son. And she knew just the place.
“Whom did you contact to set up this space? I need a chair suitable for Mr. Morgan’s son,” she told Carrie when she found her.
“I’ve got the chair. I set that up as soon as he showed up. What I don’t have is a place to put it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Max said. “Take me to the chair.”