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16
Nina pickedup her martini and left a five dollar bill in the bartender’s tip cup. Thank god for fundraisers and openbars.
She’d never been to the Four Seasons in the city, and she looked around the event space called The Garden, the location of the fundraising dinner for Water For All International (WFAI). It was a gorgeous space, intimate in spite of two giant walls of windows and space for nearly three hundred people, something she only knew because Robin had helped plan the event. Surprisingly big live trees lit with white lights dotted the room, giving it the air of a magical treehouse above thecity.
Nina had laughed when Robin told her the dinner was at the Four Seasons. It was so American, so twenty-first century, to have a fundraising event for a non-profit devoted to helping the poor at the Four Seasons, a hotel most middle-class families in America couldn’tafford.
But Robin had won her over by explaining that philanthropic high rollers wouldn’t attend a dinner at the Marriott. According to Robin even the Four Seasons was a stretch; The Ritz or The Plaza were the preferred stomping grounds of New York City’selite.
Apparently non-profits were like everybody else — they had to spend money to make it, and they had to make it to give itaway.
She sipped at her drink, looking around the well-heeled crowd. Nina had arrived with Robin, but Robin had quickly been swallowed up by the demands of the event, and Nina had been happy enough to take advantage of the free booze and chance to people-watch.
Banners hung on the walls, depicting pictures of smiling women and children drinking water and laughing as they bathed in tubs of water. WFAI had been smart to go with the feel-good campaign of showing the end result of their clean water projects around the world. Nina believed people were inherently good, that they usually wanted to help, but pictures of sick, thirsty kids were probably not good bait for people who wanted to enjoy dinner before they opened theirwallets.
She watched Robin work the room, stopping among the clusters of people drinking and talking around the bar and the tables set for dinner. She was in her element, obviously passionate about the subject matter and dressed in an Indian style silk top over sleek black tuxedo pants and velvet flats. Despite the formality of her outfit, she was still rocking her short gray hair, and other than red lipstick, had kept her face makeupfree.
Nina couldn’t help admiring her. Her confidence was rooted in a sense of purpose, in a life so fully lived she couldn’t be bothered to waste the time or energy worrying about whether she should wear a dress or whether everyone else would expect her to wear makeup to such a niceevent.
“Hey!” she said when she’d worked her way back to Nina. “Sorry to abandon you like that. You doingokay?”
“I’m great,” Nina said. “This is a gorgeous venue. And it looks like everyone’s really enthused about yourmission.”
Robin looked around with a smile. “It does feel that way, doesn’t it?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “Although the true test will be whether they’re willing to fund our nextproject.”
“I think it’s a lock,” Ninasaid.
“We brought a documentary filmmaker along on the last trip to create a short film. We’re going to play it before dinner, so hopefully that’ll help.” She took Nina’s arm. “But in the meantime, I have some people I want you tomeet.”
“Me?”
Robin laughed. “Yes, you. I’ve been telling everyone about your photos — I hope you don’t mind — and they’re dying to meetyou.”
Nina almost choked on the martini. “My photos? Oh god… did I mention they’re just ahobby?”
“You did, and I passed that along, but they’reintrigued.”
“They’re probably just being nice,” Ninasaid.
“You can decide that for yourself. Comeon.”
She led Nina through the masses, stopping at select groups for reasons Nina couldn’t figure out until she realized most of them were co-workers at WFAI. They were all warm, genuine people, not unlike Robin, eager to talk about their work but just as eager to ask about Nina’sphotography.
They’d been making the rounds for a half hour when Nina realized she was talking about her hobby like it was more than a hobby, that she was enjoying talking about it, that she was enjoying being taken seriously even though she hadn’t taken herself seriously untilthen.
Robin was clearly having fun, watching Nina like a proud older sister, practically dragging her from one group to the next when Nina got into in-depth conversations that could have gone on forhours.
She was talking to a woman named Connie who’d started volunteering for WFAI after the death of her son ten years earlier and had ended up Director of Logistics, when Robin took her armagain.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Nina for a minute,” she said to Connie. “I want to introduce her toJason.”
Connie’s eyes lit up. “Greatidea.”
They said their goodbyes and promised to continue their conversation later in the evening. Robin led Nina to a group comprised of two men and a woman standing near the movie screen — presumably to play the short film — at the front of theroom.
“There you are!” The woman was tiny, with black hair that swung around her shoulders in a sleek curtain. “We were just saying how gorgeous everything looks. You’ve done a great job,Robin.”
“The hotel staff gets all the credit,” Robin said. “Hard to fuck up booking an event at the FourSeasons.”
