"I think we've devoted enough time to your little idea, Maggie dear,” Mrs. Evans said. “And then there was the unexpected expense you brought to us last week.." The woman used the same faintly condescending,I'm-humoring-youtone she always used.
But this time it didn't cow Maggie, not with the memory of Luc burning a hole in her gut.
"I appreciate your help in facilitating our meetings," she said. "But I'm still the chair, am I not?"
Luc had taught her the value of silence. She let her expectant gaze drift around the table, making eye contact with each board member in turn.
Two dropped their eyes. She chose to believe it was in deference to her station. Two gave her faint smiles. And two gave her minute nods.
Mrs. Evans sat with a huff.
Had they been waiting all this time for her to find some gumption?
"My father established this foundation to benefit our local communityandother special projects."
"Which we did with the gift last week," Mrs. Evans muttered.
Maggie shot her a quelling glance and—miracle of miracles—the woman quieted.
"The equine therapy program is needed," Maggie said. "You don't know my history. I endured something traumatic when I was twelve years old. For a long time, my horse was the only thing that gave me comfort. I couldn't talk to a therapist. I couldn't take comfort from my father. But being with my horse gave me peace. And there are children in our county who need the same. Wewillbe moving forward with the program."
No one challenged her. Not in the moments of silence she allowed. Not as she laid out the program and the next steps and demanded buy-in from each board member. Mrs. Evans only gave in grudgingly.
The Maggie from a month ago would've been appalled. She would've accused herself of throwing her weight around.
Scarlett had been right. Maggie had been too kind. So kind, she’d allowed herself to be walked all over.
There was a satisfaction in getting this done.
She should've done it a year ago.
When the meeting adjourned, Mrs. Hawes, who'd been sitting right next to her, turned in her chair.
"I'm glad you decided to do the therapy program, dear." Somehow the way she used the endearment was different from the condescending way Mrs. Evans had. "Your dad will be proud of you."
"Thank you." It was nice to be praised, but she was proud of herself.
Mrs. Hawes tilted her head to the side. "I think your young man is waiting for you."
"I don't have—" Maggie's denial cut off as she turned to look where the other woman had indicated.
Luc.
He was standing just in front of the chair he must've vacated.
Luc had been the one who'd entered the meeting and sat?
The rest of the murmured conversations behind her faded away as walked toward him. She couldn't read his expression. He almost looked... wary?
"What are you doing here?"
What was he doing here?Did he even know?
Taking a risk. A crazy, jump-off-the-skyscraper-with-no-parachute risk.
His heart was pounding so hard that he felt it in his temples.
"Ernest's foundation received a check," he said. "For one hundred thousand dollars."
