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“This is quite a mess,” Susan said wryly when she saw Kris. Lines of tension bracketed the older woman’s mouth, but she managed a wan smile. “Not what I needed in the middle of the grant writing process.”
“I can brainstorm new venues,” Kris said. “Two weeks isn’tthatbad.”
“We were thinking the YMCA. I know the director and she said she can squeeze us in this weekend. It’s sooner than expected, and we’d have to scramble—let the girls’ families know immediately—but it’s better than nothing.”
Kris blanched. “The YMCA? Like the song?”
Susan’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Technically.”
“But…” Kris trailed off. The gala was supposed to be a grand event for the mentees, complete with live music and fancy food and swag bags. For one night, the girls would be pampered beyond their dreams.
She couldn’t see anyone being pampered in a YMCA.
“I’m going to come up with an alternative,” Kris said, determined.
Two hours later, it was clear no alternative existed. It would’ve, had Susan allowed her to pay for a venue as a “charitable donation,” but the director kept bringing up “ethics.” Kris, who’d never had much use for ethics, vacillated between intensely annoyed and grudgingly admiring of the other woman’s dedication to her values until she settled on deeply frustrated.
Susan made the call to confirm the YMCA at ten minutes past eight.
It was already hella late, but Kris stayed behind to help contact the mentors and mentees’ parents. Luckily, they were all understanding of the sudden change in date and venue, and most of them could still make it. A call to Blue Hair confirmed The Prophecy Kings had no issues with the date change. The caterers would have to be dealt with tomorrow since it was after work hours, but if worse came to worst, Kris would tap into her checking account and drop the Carrera name—no matter what Susan said. The girls deserved a blowout event, and it was amazing what a couple extra thousand bucks could do for someone’s motivation and work speed.
Susan kicked Kris out at half-past nine.
“Go home,” she ordered, her tone warm but brooking no opposition. “You’ve done more than enough, and you need rest. You look exhausted.”
“It’s my makeup,” Kris said. “I’m never using this foundation again.”
Susan laughed and shook her head. “I mean it, Kris. I appreciate all that you’re doing, but as a volunteer, you’re putting in more hours than some of my full-time employees. It’s not right.”
“I enjoy doing it.” Kris hitched a shoulder. “No big deal. I leave in a few weeks, so it evens out.”
Sadness blanketed her at the thought of her imminent departure. She had big plans for her senior year at the University of Washington, and she looked forward to seeing Courtney and her other friends again, but leaving Nate, Skylar, and MentHer…
She rubbed her chest, feeling a twinge of heartburn.
“Yes, I know. We’ll miss you. You’ve done a lot.” Susan sat in the chair opposite Kris. “I realize you’re a volunteer, but if you want to participate in any of MentHer’s programming as a mentee, you’re welcome to do so. You’re within the age range.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already applied to college.”
“Yes, of course. I was thinking more about the relationship aspect. If, for example, you want to speak to someone about topics you’re not comfortable discussing with your father or anyone else in your life, we’re here.” Susan’s eyes were unbearably kind. “I’d be happy to serve as…well, perhaps not your mentor, given how much we’ve worked together, but as your friend. Sounding board. Whatever you need.”
A lump rose in Kris’s throat. Susan knew about her whole mom abandonment thing—Kris had told her when she first applied to be a volunteer—but this was the first time she’d alluded to it.
Kris wished she had a mom like Susan. Someone warm, down-to-earth, and, you know,there.But she didn’t and treating MentHer’s director like she was a maternal figure or sounding board or whatever wouldn’t change that.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay,” Kris said. “I don’t need any help.”
