Power and Passion (25 page)

"The gala?" she asked, and Adam nodded,
sitting forward, eager to hear the news. "Well, I'm afraid we hit a
bit of a snag this week."

His eyebrows lowered. "Nothing serious, I
hope?"

A loud laugh escaped Sara's mouth before she
could control it, and she put her hand up to her lips as if she
could corral it back in. She cleared her throat, put her hand in
her lap, and continued. "Well, yes. And no. Well, at least I hope
it's not too serious." She paused, taking a deep breath, steadying
herself to tell him the tale. She hadn't been able even to think
about what Pierce had done without getting choked up over the last
week. But she wanted to keep it together now—to show that she was
okay, that she had moved on and was ready to take on this
challenge.

"I don't think I told you this, but…I've
told you about Pierce, yes?"

Adam's expression did not change. "Yes, your
ex-fiancé." He nodded, urging her to go on.

"Well, he had originally agreed to fund the
gala for me. In fact, it was a big part of the reason I was able
even to start planning it in the first place. The SO office where I
work— we operate on a very small budget. There's no way we would
have funds for something like that. So his contribution… well, it
really was key to making it all happen."

Adam sat back in his seat and folded his
hands in his lap, his demeanor remaining calm. "I think I see where
this is going, Sara."

She nodded. This was it—time to see if she
could get it out. "After I went with you on the desert safari last
week, when I got home I had some messages from Pierce." She paused,
looking down at the table then back up at Adam. He looked at her so
kindly that it gave her the courage to go on. "He pulled out his
backing for the gala. Said he had an investment that fell through,
and now he can't afford it." She shrugged her shoulders. "So that
was that. I thought the whole thing was over."

"Wow," Adam said in a low voice, sounding
truly shocked and concerned. "So what are you going to do? I mean
that can't just be it, can it? There has to be some way." Sara
nodded her head, a smile growing on her face. "Where there's a
will, there's a way," she said, remembering the words she often
lived by. "We're going to make it happen no matter what it takes.
I'm asking my parents to contribute, and Maryam and Joan have some
contacts they can appeal to as well. It's not going to be as easy
as it was, but, no, I don't think this is the end of the gala. In
fact I know it isn't." Adam sat forward again, mirroring Sara's
smile. He simply looked at her for a minute, squinting his eyes a
little, apparently in thought.

"What?" she finally asked with a laugh.
"What is it?"

Without saying a word, Adam pulled his cell
phone out of the back pocket of his pants. It had been turned off—
How refreshing,
Sara thought when she noticed—but now he
turned it on.

"Would you mind?" he said, nodding toward
the phone as its screen came to life. "I just want to make a quick
call."

She shrugged. "Sure, go ahead," she said,
surprised that he would even ask. It was his phone, after all.
Still, his manners did impress her.

When the phone finished booting up, Adam
swiped the screen to unlock it and searched through his contact
lists for a moment; when he found the one he wanted, he touched the
number to call it. He sat back in his chair and put the phone to
his ear.

"Hi, Lucas," he said when someone on the
other end answered, his voice bright and friendly. "So sorry to
bother you, but do you have a moment?"

Adam held up a finger to Sara, indicating
that he would only be a minute, and she smiled and nodded then
turned her attention out to the water once more. There was a piano
player on the other side of the bar, and the peaceful notes of his
music filled the air. Adam's voice receded into the ambient noise
of the restaurant, the patter of the other guests and servers, the
clinking of silverware and crystal glasses. For a moment Sara
imagined she could feel the Burj rocking on the water as if it
really were tied to the mast of a great big ship. The feeling
lulled her, leaving her with a peaceful, happy feeling.

"All right," Adam said then, bringing her
back to the present. She blinked her eyes slowly then looked over
at him. He was already turning his phone off again. Seeing that she
had turned toward him, he smiled. "That was Lucas," he went on.
"The manager of the Grand Creek. Great guy. Another expat, a great,
great guy."

He looked at Sara in silence for a moment,
and she simply looked back at him, unable to figure out just where
this conversation was going.

"Well, I told him about your issue with the
funding," Adam continued, trying to keep his voice low, though the
excitement he felt made it rather difficult to do so. "And he said
we can waive the fee for the ballroom. It's yours for free if you
want it."

Sara merely blinked at him again, the words
still not registering. "The ballroom—for free?" she asked as if
saying it would somehow force it to make sense.

On the other side of the table, Adam was
practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "Yes!" he said in a
loud whisper. "I mean I figured he would help out somehow, maybe
throw in a few free bottles of wine, but I told you he's a great
guy. Consider it the Grand Creek's donation to your very worthy
cause. Oh, plus he said he'll figure out some other perks we can
throw in too. Maybe we work something out with one of the music
companies we use."

Sara had no idea what to say. The message
had sunk in all right, but she could barely believe it was true.
The Grand Creek ballroom for free, for the SO gala? It didn't seem
possible.

"Sara, what do you think?" Adam asked, so
anxious to get a reply from her.

"I—" she began but then stopped to collect
her thoughts. This was amazing, astounding, and so, so generous.
"Thank you, Adam. Thank you for doing this for me. For SO. For the
gala." Her words were somber and sincere, and as she said them she
placed a hand on her heart, which beat like a big drum inside her
chest.

However, Adam just shook his head. "Don't
thank me," he said. "All I did was make a phone call. I'm just
thankful that I'm able to do something to help."

T
hank you, Diana. Thank you," Sara repeated,
feeling like she could go on saying it over and over for the rest
of the day. Maybe even the rest of the week. In the doorway of
Sara's office, her boss simply smiled and waved a hand at her,
acknowledging her gratitude. Then Diana closed the door and left
her alone.

Sara sat back in her chair and let out a
very long sigh. Before her on the desk were spread the pages of her
proposal—the spreadsheets, the word-processing documents, the costs
worked out to the last penny and, thankfully, covered in full. This
was just a pile of paper at the moment, but what it represented was
very real: this was the gala. This was how she could make it happen
if given the chance.

And now she had been given the chance. Diana
had loved the proposal and given it her full backing. Then she had
taken it to the higher-ups. And they had loved it too. With only
some minor changes, they were willing to give Sara the green
light.

"I cannot believe it," she said to herself,
a hint of astonishment in her voice. "The gala is happening. It's
really happening! Oh, goodness, what am I going to do?"

Sitting forward in her chair, her
astonishment and happiness suddenly melted into panic. There was so
much to accomplish now. With only a little more than a month left
before the event was supposed to take place, she would really have
to get some balls rolling and fast. There would be down payments to
make, services to arrange, auction items to source, caterers to
contact, deadlines to set and meet.

"And here I am standing at my desk,
wondering what to do." Sara laughed at herself then began to gather
up the pages of the proposal. When she had them in a stack, she
slid it into a manila folder. Just the process of this, the regular
routine of mundane office work, calmed her mind a little, and now
she could think more clearly.

"First things first," she told herself, and
then she picked up the phone.

* * *

"Oh, Sara, that is wonderful news," Maryam
cried as she spun around in her chair in her home office. A pile of
papers to be graded sat on the desk in front of her, one of them
open to a page full of red marks she had just finished making. "So
that's it?

"Yes, that is exactly what it means," Sara
replied, and even through the phone Maryam could hear the
brightness in her voice. "Now all we have to do is get the funding
settled—"

"Well, that should be no problem, right?"
Maryam asked. "It's almost done. I told you I spoke with the sheik
earlier in the week, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Sara replied. "And your
presentation went well, yes?"

"Yes, very well." Maryam stopped her chair
and turned her attention to her laptop, sitting open at the corner
of the desk. "He has pledged to put in quite a sum and even said he
knows some other parties who might be interested in donating too.
Once I mentioned the Special Olympics, that really got his
attention. He told me he has a nephew who has participated, not
here but in Saudi Arabia."

"Oh, right," Sara said. "That's great. I'm
glad to hear we made such an impression on him."

"Yes," Maryam said a bit distractedly as she
scrolled through her incoming email messages. "I'm just waiting to
hear from him about the other possible donors. He told me he would
get back to me today." Turning away from the computer, she glanced
at the stack of her students' papers. "How about I call you when he
does? Would that be all right, Sara?"

"That would be great, Maryam. We can discuss
the auction items at that time too. Thank you so much for all your
hard work."

"Oh." Maryam waved a hand in the space in
front of her. "It's no problem at all. It's been a pleasure working
together on this project. I've gotten to reconnect with you, and
I've learned so much about project management, fundraising, and the
nonprofi world."

Sara smiled. "It's been good reconnecting
with you too. I've learned a lot by collaborating with you and Joan
as well." Maryam laughed. "I've never done anything like this
before, particularly the fundraising, but I'd dare to say I'm
pretty good at it, and that's a nice feeling, you know? To feel
that interconnectedness, that I'm playing a part in people helping
one another."

"I'd say you're good at it as well," Sara
agreed. "And there is nothing more empowering, I think, than to
know you are making a difference."

* * *

"Mina? Have you heard back from the people
at
Hi
yet?" Joan called from within her office. In a moment
her assistant was at the door.

"Not yet. But I have two calls in and one at
S
K.
Are there any other publications you'd like me to
contact about publicity for the gala?"

Joan smiled and sat back. Mina was so
dependable, and she was thankful for that. "Not at the moment. But
as we get closer to the event, I'll have you send out releases to
all the usual media. I really hope these two bite, though."

Mina nodded and leaned against the
doorframe. "Yeah, it would be great to see them do a feature on a
philanthropic event for a change. All celebrity magazines seem to
cover are film festivals and resort openings and who showed up at
whose concert. I know that's their genre—celebrities and social
scenes is what they do. But wouldn't it be great to see what
celebrities are doing that's good for society?"

"Absolutely," Joan agreed. That had been her
point in trying to get these magazines to cover the event. She knew
the glamour of the gala alone would be a draw; she just hoped it
would be strong enough to get the Special Olympics the attention it
deserved. "Now talk to me about donors. Who have we got onboard?
Or, more importantly, how much more do we have to raise?"

Mina came into the office and sat down,
pulling out her tablet and opening up an app. A spreadsheet of
names, companies, and monetary figures popped up, and she scanned
it quickly, ending on the total at the bottom of the page. Then she
looked up at Joan with a smile on her face.

"Actually, we're all done with fundraising,"
Mina said. "The last two donations came in late yesterday, one from
the Ladies Clubs and one from Peter Goldsmith—"

"Oh, Peter," Joan interrupted. "I'm so glad
he came through. I knew he would." When she saw Mina looking at her
with eyebrows raised, she added, "Old friend from way back. Big
media magnate back in the States."

Mina nodded and continued on. "Well, those
two have pushed us far past your original funding goal." She looked
back at the spreadsheet for a moment, running her fingertip over
the columns on the screen. "Yes, the math looks good. You've raised
more money in less time than you set out to. And you've had more
donors than you intended as well. I only called four people. Ten
very generous donations came in." She looked up at Joan with a
smile. "People must like you. I think they recognize your integrity
and the respect you show to all people. You've built some good
relationships over the years."