Toxic Bachelors (17 page)

“So, Mr. Harrington, you've come to check us out.”

But even she had to admit that for a million dollars, he had the right to do so. The foundation had actually given them exactly $975,000, which was precisely what she'd asked for. She hadn't had the guts to ask for a full million. Instead, she'd asked him to match what she had raised herself over the past three years. She had been stunned when she was notified by the foundation that their grant request had been approved. She had applied to at least a dozen other foundations at the same time, and all of the others had turned her down. They said they wanted to follow the center's progress for the next year, before they committed funds to her project. So she was grateful to him, but she always felt like a dancing monkey when money people came to look around. She was in the business of saving lives and repairing damaged kids. That was all that interested her. Raising money to do it was a necessary evil, but not one she enjoyed. She hated having to charm people in order to get money out of them. The acute need of the people she served had always been convincing enough for her. She hated having to convince others, who led golden lives. What did they know about a five-year-old who had had bleach poured in her eyes and would be blind for the rest of her life, or a boy who had had his mother's hot iron put on the side of his face, or the twelve-year-old who had been raped by her father all her life and had cigarettes stubbed out on her chest? Just how much did it take to convince people that these kids needed help? Charlie didn't know what she was going to say to him, but he could see her passion in her eyes, and a certain degree of disapproval, as she glanced at his well-tailored suit, expensive tie, and gold watch. Whatever he had spent on them, she knew she could have put to better use. He instantly read her thoughts, and felt foolish for coming there looking like that.

“I'm sorry not to be dressed more appropriately. I had a business lunch downtown.” It wasn't true, but he couldn't have gone to the Yacht Club dressed as she was, in T-shirt, Nikes, and jeans. As he said it to her, he took his suit jacket off, unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, took off his tie, and stuffed it in his pocket. It wasn't much of an improvement, but he'd made an effort at least, and she smiled.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. “PR isn't my strong suit. I love what we do here. I'm not so great at rolling out the red carpet for VIPs. For one thing, we don't have one, and even if we did, I wouldn't have time to roll it out.” Her hair was long, and she was wearing it in a thick braid down her back. She looked almost like a Viking as she sat there, with her long legs stretched out under the desk. She looked like anything but a social worker, but her credentials said she was. And then he remembered that she had gone to Princeton, and he said it was his alma mater too, hoping to break the ice.

“I liked Columbia better,” she said easily, visibly unimpressed that they had gone to the same school. “It was more honest. Princeton was a little too full of itself for my taste. Everyone is so wrapped up in the history of the place. It seemed to me that it was a lot more about the past than the future.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Charlie said cautiously, but nonetheless was impressed by her remarks. In some ways, she was as daunting and earnest as he had feared, in others not at all. “Were you in an eating club?” he asked, still hoping to score points with her, or find a common bond.

“Yes,” she said, looking embarrassed, “I was. I was in Cottage.” She paused for a beat and then smiled knowingly at him. She knew his type. Aristocratic men like him attended Princeton in abundance. “And you were in Ivy.” It didn't accept women even while she was there. She had hated the boys who belonged to it. Now it just seemed sophomoric and foolish. She smiled when he nodded.

“I won't say something stupid like 'How did you guess?' ” It was obvious that she knew the type, but she knew no more than that about him. “Is there a possibility you'd forgive me?”

“Yes,” she laughed at him, and suddenly looked younger than she was. She wore no makeup, and never bothered to when she was at the center. She was too busy to care about vanity or details. “Nine hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars from your foundation says I can forgive you just about anything, as long as you don't abuse your children.”

“I don't have any. So at least I'm not guilty on that one.” He sensed that she didn't like him, which quickly became a challenge to him to turn it around. She was a very pretty woman after all, no matter how many degrees she had. And few women were able to resist Charlie's charm, when he chose to turn it on. He wasn't sure yet if Carole Parker was worth the effort. In some ways, she seemed like a hardened case. She was politically correct to her core, and sensed that he wasn't. She was surprised to hear that he didn't have kids, and then vaguely remembered hearing that he wasn't married. She wondered if he was gay. If Charlie had known that, he would have been crushed. She didn't care what his sexual preferences were. All she wanted was his money, for her kids at the center.

“Would you like to take a look around?” she offered politely, standing up again, and looking him right in the eye. In high heels, she would have been exactly as tall as he was. Charlie was six foot four, and their eyes were the same color. Their hair was equally blond. For a shocking instant, he realized that she looked like his sister, and then he did everything he could to forget it. It was too unsettling.

She didn't see the look on his face as he followed her out her office door, and for the next hour she took him into every room, every office, dragged him down every hallway. She showed him the garden that the children had planted on the roof, introduced him to many of the children. She introduced him to Gabby with her Seeing Eye dog, and told him his foundation had paid for it. They were both currently in training. Gabby had named the big black Lab they'd given her Zorro. Charlie stopped and patted it, with his head bent, so Carole wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. The stories she told him, when the children weren't around, were heartbreaking. For a few minutes, they watched a group in progress, and he was vastly impressed as he listened. Carole normally led the group, but she had taken the afternoon off from her duties to meet him, which she usually thought was a waste of time. She felt that her time was better spent with their clients.

She introduced him to their volunteers, working hard at occupational therapy with the younger kids, and a reading program for those who had reached high school without being able to read or write. He remembered reading about the program in her brochure, and also that she had won a national award for the results they had achieved so far. Every one of their clients was literate by the time they left the outpatient services of the center after a year. And the kids' parents were welcome to join the adult reading program too. They also offered counseling and therapy for kids and adults alike.

She took him from top to bottom, introduced him to everyone, and finally to her assistant, Tygue, the young man who had opened the door for him. Carole told Charlie that he was on loan from a doctoral program from Yale. She had pulled in some incredible people to work with her, many of whom she had known before, and some of whom she had found along the way. She explained that she and Tygue had gotten their master of social work degrees together. She had started the center after that, and he had gone to Yale to continue his studies. He was originally from Jamaica, and Charlie loved listening to him speak. After they had chatted with him for a few minutes, she walked Charlie back into her office. He looked drained.

“I don't know what to say to you,” he said, sounding humble as he looked at her. “This is quite a place. You've done an amazing job. How did you put this together?” He was in awe of what she'd done, and however ornery she'd been with him at first, and contemptuous about his eating club, it was obvious to him that she was quite an extraordinary human being. A lot more so than he, he felt. At thirty-four, she had created a place that literally turned people's lives around, and made a difference for a number of human beings, old and young.

He had been so busy listening to every word she said, once they started the tour, that he had completely forgotten to charm her. Instead, she had knocked him right off his feet, not with her charm, or her striking good looks, but with her tireless work and achievement. The center she had created, however dilapidated it still looked, was an amazing place.

“This was my dream since I was a kid,” she said simply. “I saved every penny I ever got from the time I was fifteen. When I was in my teens, I waited on tables, mowed lawns, sold magazines, coached swimming. I did everything I could to make this place happen, and I finally did. I saved about three hundred thousand dollars of my own, including some money I made in the stock market later on. The rest I shook out of people, until I finally had enough to put a down payment on the building and get started. It was pretty touch and go at first. But it won't be anymore,” she said honestly, and gratefully at last, “thanks to your foundation. I'm sorry I wasn't more welcoming at first. I hate having to justify what we're doing. I know we're doing great work, but sometimes people who come here don't see it, or don't understand the value of what we're doing. When I saw the suit and the watch,” she said sheepishly, “I figured you wouldn't get it. It was stupid of me. I think I have a prejudice against people who went to Princeton, including myself. We're all so privileged, and don't know it. What I see here is the real deal. The rest just isn't, or at least not to me.” He nodded. Charlie didn't know what to say to her, she was an awe-inspiring woman, and he was in fact in awe of her. Not daunted or cowed, but in awe. He was suddenly embarrassed about the suit and gold watch too.

He pointed to the watch apologetically. “I promise I'll throw it out the window on the way home.”

“You won't have to.” She laughed openly. “One of our neighbors will probably take it off your arm. I'll have Tygue walk you out. You'll never make it to the curb.”

“I'm tougher than I look,” he said, smiling at her, and she had warmed up to him considerably. After all, whatever his eating club had been, he had given them nearly a million dollars, and she was grateful to him for that. She wondered if she had been a little tough on him at first, and knew she had. She just hated guys like him, who had never seen the other side of life. On the other hand, he ran a foundation that supported some impressive causes, so he couldn't be all bad, no matter how spoiled he was. She would have gagged on the spot if she had known he had a 240-foot yacht, but he didn't tell her that.

“I'm tougher than I look too,” she said honestly, “but you still have to be careful in this neighborhood. If you come back, wear your sweats and running shoes.” She had noticed his expensive John Lobb shoes, custom made for him at Hermès.

“I will,” he promised, and meant it. If only to avoid irritating her. He liked it a lot better when she looked as though she approved of him, as she did now. The look in her eyes when he walked in had been more than a little chilly. Now things were going a lot better, and he liked the idea of coming back to visit the center again. He said as much to her as she and Tygue walked him to the front door.

“Come back anytime,” she said with a warm smile. And just as she did, Gabby came confidently down the stairs with Zorro. She was holding fast to his harness, and recognized Tygue and Carole's voices.

“What are you doing down here?” Carole said with a look of surprise. The children usually didn't come downstairs, except to eat or play in the garden. The offices were all on the ground floor, which made more sense. Particularly if abusive parents showed up to look for their kids, or assault them again, when they had been mandated to Carole's care by the courts, as was Gabby's case. They were safer out of sight upstairs.

“I came down to see the man with the nice voice. Zorro wanted to say good-bye.” This time even Carole saw the tears in Charlie's eyes. Fortunately, Gabby didn't, as Carole gently touched his arm. The child was impossible to resist, and she ripped out his heart, as she approached them with a broad smile.

“Good-bye, Zorro,” Charlie said, first patting the dog, and then gently touching the child's hair. He looked down at her, but his smile was wasted on her. And nothing he could do for her now would ever change what had happened to her, neither the memory, nor the result. All he had been able to do was indirectly pay for her dog. It seemed so much less than enough, which was what Carole always felt about what she did. “Take good care of him, Gabby. He's a handsome dog.”

“I know,” she said, with a sightless grin, bending down to kiss Zorro's snout. “Will you come back and see us again? You're nice.”

“Thank you, Gabby. You're nice too, and very beautiful. And I will come back to see you again. I promise.” He looked right at Carole as he said it, and she nodded. In spite of her initial prejudices about him, she liked him. He was probably a decent human being, just very fortunate and very spoiled. She had been fleeing from men like him all her life. But at least this one cared about making a difference. A million dollars' worth of difference. It said something about him. And he had cared enough to come up and see the place. Even more than that, she liked the way he talked to the little girl. It seemed too bad that he didn't have kids himself.

Tygue had found a cab for him by then, and came back inside to tell him it was waiting outside.

“Put your helmet on,” Carole teased, “and hide the watch.”

“I think I can make it from here to the cab.” He smiled at her again, and thanked her for the tour. It had made not only his day, but possibly his year. He said good-bye to Gabby again, and turned one last time on his way out the door to look at her and the dog. He shook hands with Tygue, and carrying his jacket over his shoulder, with his sleeves still rolled up, he slipped into the cab and gave the driver his address. He sat in silence, thinking of all he had seen that afternoon, feeling a lump in his throat every time he thought of Gabby and her dog.