Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
TESS
T he lunch meetings at SIC had all followed the same pattern. Most of the team arrived before noon, in time to select their drinks from the buffet at the other end of the conference room. Once they were seated, Eden came around with a cart and placed a plate of food in front of each employee, each individualized to their dietary needs—vegetarian, gluten-free, low carb. Scott never arrived until the exact time the meeting was to start, so she’d set a plate at his empty spot, even though he rarely touched any of it.
I’d declined the offer for a meal of my own from day one. It was too hard to present when worrying about food, plus it was easy enough for me to grab something afterward since I didn’t have an office to head back to. I’d secretly hoped it would make it easier for me to move the conversations forward with everyone having to interject their comments and questions around mouths full of grilled chicken. That had turned out to be wishful thinking. By Friday, I’d become used to the routine and had resigned myself to accept that it was what it was.
Which was why it was surprising when, at a minute after twelve, Scott still hadn’t arrived.
I looked over at Brett as he checked the time on his phone, and I assumed he was noting his boss’s tardiness as well. “I guess we should get started,” he said. He flipped through the booklet I’d prepared. “Looks like organization number five listed here is for Heart Health. Want to tell us more about it, Tess?”
“Uh.” I glanced at the door, expecting to see it open any second now. “You don’t want to wait for Scott?”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You don’t work here, so you literally didn’t get the memo.”
Paris laughed politely. Matt’s laugh said he found it genuinely funny.
It was then I realized Eden hadn’t put a plate at the head of the table.
“He’s not joining us today,” Brett went on.
I instantly had feelings about that, though I couldn’t quite decide what they were. Confusion? Surprise? Disappointment? A combo of all three with a heavy dose of hurt as well?
I was so busy trying to dissect my emotions, I almost missed the rest of what Brett said. “...that he was confident we were all on the same page, and he no longer needed to be in attendance.”
Instantly, I knew it was about me. About the kiss. About my choice to not pursue more of the kissing. Could he not handle the rejection? Had he only shown up to the meetings in the first place because he wanted to get into my pantsuit?
Now I definitely knew what I was feeling, and it was pissed. “I’m so glad that he considers all of this a waste of his time,” I said with gritted teeth.
Again, Matt laughed, and I decided that his sense of humor was questionable.
“That wasn’t the impression I meant to give,” Brett said. “I apologize. Let me rephrase. Scott felt he saw enough from you to realize you know what you’re talking about. You’ve earned his trust.”
“Definitely take it as a compliment,” Matthew said before stuffing his mouth with a forkful of steak salad.
“Whatever you said to him in his office yesterday must have been quite compelling,” Silvia agreed.
“Oh. Huh.” My cheeks felt warm remembering that there had been very little saying of anything in his office.
But then I considered what I actually had said. That he couldn’t drag this out. Had I somehow gotten through to him?
Whether I had or not—whether he’d meant to or not—he’d just simplified my job. He was the one who derailed each meeting with endless questions. Without him in the room, I could get through my pitch in no time.
In fact...
“In that case,” I said, mentally shifting my entire agenda, “Forget Heart Health. Forget all the organizations I’ve already presented. Each of the charities I have listed are worthy and notable, but there is one specific cause that I believe truly fits the needs and wants of SIC more than any other—the Dysautonomia Relief Foundation.”
I spent the next twenty-five minutes telling the team in uninterrupted detail about the cause I felt so passionately about. I explained that dysautonomia encompassed several different medical conditions that affected the autonomic nervous system, the system that controls all the “automatic” functions of the body such as blood pressure, digestion, temperature regulation, heart rate, kidney function, and pupil dilation. I told them that people who suffered from dysautonomia had trouble regulating these systems that we take for granted. I described the kinds of things that Teyana battled with on a daily basis—lightheadedness, unstable blood pressure, abnormally high heart rates, fainting—and told them that while some people only had a fainting spell once or twice over their lifetime, many others fainted several times a day, making it difficult to hold jobs or engage socially or participate in recreational activities.
“Dysautonomia is not rare,” I said as I neared the end of my spiel. “Over seventy million people worldwide live with some form. There is no cure and treatments are limited, and even though it’s a common medical condition, most patients take years to get diagnosed because there is a lack of awareness in both the public and medical profession.
“This lack of awareness is what makes this such a prime candidate for sponsorship. It’s a foundation that needs support from a highly profiled corporation. Of course it would be a major coup to have Sebastian Industrial promoting them, but also, it’s a major coup for you. It’s an original and unique cause, but it’s also a condition that affects many people, which makes it universal. I know both of those points are important to the team in your selection.
“There’s also an opportunity to appeal to those who support the current feminist movement since one form of dysautonomia, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS for short), is primarily a women’s disease. It’s a disability that health experts compare to the disability seen in COPD or congestive heart failure. The quality of life is likened to that of someone on kidney dialysis. It’s estimated to affect one out of one hundred teenagers, and I’m betting that none of you have heard of it. Between one and three million Americans suffer from it, yet because most of these people are women, research and concern has been limited. SIC’s promotion of awareness and fundraising for research would be viewed as both on trend and forward thinking. I wholeheartedly believe it’s the cause you should be supporting because it will look good for your image, but even more because it’s an important cause.”
I was out of breath when I’d finished. Not only had I been talking nonstop with no interruptions, but I’d also gotten somewhat passionate in my presentation. More passionate than was probably considered professional. Still less passionate than it deserved.
I refused to regret anything, even when the room was silent for several long seconds.
“Well, wow,” Brett said finally, which wasn’t exactly comforting.
“That was incredibly eye-opening,” Matt said.
“I’m for supporting it.” Silvia sounded completely on board. “My niece has that POTS. Her doctors say she could grow out of it, but she’s had to quit track, and they’re even looking at putting her in a wheelchair.”
Paris turned to Matthew. “Didn’t that guy in HR have this? Ryan? He had to go on long-term disability because he couldn’t make it to work so many mornings.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” Matthew said. “He fainted at the holiday party and broke his humerus. It was terrible for him. I felt so bad. I’d feel good about choosing this one.”
Paris looked thoughtful. “It makes it personal for the corporation. That’s a plus. I vote yes.”
“I have no problem with it,” Matt agreed.
“Seems like it’s unanimous then,” Brett said.
I couldn’t believe it was that easy. “That’s it? You all agree to move forward on a partnership with the DRF, so no more pitching other charities? We go on to the coordination meeting from here?”
“That’s pretty much it, yes,” Brett said. “We’d want to do a thorough background check first, which will take a little bit of time to have ordered and performed. We have a department that handles that, so nothing is needed from you there.”
“Okay. Anything else?” It felt like there was a catch. I was waiting for there to be a catch.
Glances were exchanged among the team, something they all knew that I didn’t.
“Scott,” Paris said.
“Yep. Scott,” Matthew echoed.
“We’ll have to tell Scott that we settled on an organization,” Brett clarified. “He’s still the final say.”
“But he said he trusted us to make a decision, right? So he’ll likely go with whatever the group recommends?” I was feeling overly confident, maybe because the team had been so enthusiastic. Maybe because I believed Scott wouldn’t have left us alone if he didn’t truly mean to let us move forward without him.
“He said he trusted you .” It seemed like a fact Brett wasn’t happy about admitting. “In other words…”
Silvia finished for him. “In other words, we back your recommendation one hundred percent. You just have to convince the boss to get on board.”
You. Not “we.” I had to convince him. Me and nobody else.
See? I knew there was a catch.