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Jorge stands up, eliciting a round of applause as he bows slightly.
“Next is Dominique Jones. Dominique has created several programs and curriculums many states have begun adopting that provide pivotal education points in STEM projects for teenagers. These include women-driven internships and internships anyone may apply for. Her goal is to extend opportunities to lower income cities and provide them with skills necessary to join the job force in Science and Mathematical fields without necessary degrees. She also is advocating for scholarships this upcoming year to provide those who do wish to seek college degrees the ability to do so.”
Holy crap. I applaud her as well, my mouth dry as I think about all the good her services could do for children in rough areas. The idea to use internships in place of degrees to get children access to the job field is astounding. Leaning towards Thorin, I pitch my voice low so we don’t disturb the crowd showing their appreciation for Dominique’s outreach program. “That’s amazing.”
“It is. One of her programs is actually centered near where I’m building Ravenscroft Center,” Thorin whispers back, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Maybe I can extend an invite to offer the children in her program access to any robotic or science events being hosted there in the future.”
Excitement flutters in my stomach as butterflies take flight. I kiss his cheek, surprising him. “That would be wonderful.”
Dad’s voice begins again. “Next is Coleman Huntington-Ward who runs Grace’s Mission in honor of his late grandmother who was the survivor of domestic violence prior to marrying his grandfather. Coleman has recently expanded his shelters to include ones for families, pets, men, women, and even teen domestic violence programs. He hopes to continue to expand further outside the Northeastern United States to major cities that might not have the money to provide these services to their communities.”
Our table erupts into hollers and shouts, excited for King who stares onward with a blank expression, even as pride gleams in his eyes. Emilia leans over, kissing his jawline and whispering something that immediately causes him to grin before muttering something back to her.
Thorin’s voice whispers in my ear, eliciting goosebumps across my back. “They’re nauseatingly in love,” he chuckles.
“They deserve happiness,” I whisper back.
“Everyone does,” Thorin answers, brushing a kiss across my cheek before leaning back in his seat.
“The final nominee is Hubert Leighton,” Dad tells the room at large once the applause for King dies down. “Hubert is working to aid the Red Cross in their humanitarian efforts to get medical care and clean water and food to third world countries currently experiencing droughts and wars. His goal is to create a new trade route that would expedite processes and allow for continued growth in these desolate areas to better the economy and help communities become sustainable. Hubert is creating fleets of helicopters and linguists to aid in this trade route expansion.”
Several seconds tick by as everyone claps, shifting nervously in their seats as Dad readies to tell the world which nominee wins the funding for their specific cause. I watch in fascination as Emilia laces her fingers tightly through King’s, their hands on the table for everyone to see. Looking around the rest of the room, I notice most nominees are holding hands with someone in anticipation.
Dad smiles. “To announce the winner, I think it only acceptable that the last winner, Aillard Brookwell, come up to the stage.”
Aillard grunts as he glides his chair backwards, not looking all that surprised to be called up. I know in the past Dad has let prior nominees read off the card that he has on the edge of the podium, although usually when those prior winners cannot make it, he simply reads it for himself.
“Thank you, Mr. Brookwell.” Dad hands the sealed envelope to Aillard. He takes it graciously before moving directly in front of the podium as Dad moves back, joining the other board members in folded out chairs.
“I want to thank all the nominees for all the hard work they’re doing,” Aillard begins. “I know how time consuming and costly it can be to try and get something as heroic as the different avenues you’ve taken out into the world. Each of you have my utmost respect for the humanitarian efforts you’re pursuing. Since winning five years ago, I have been able to integrate computer labs in underprivileged communities and give free classes on coding to anyone interested above the age of twelve. Now, without further ado,” he raises the envelope in the air. Taking a moment, he makes eye contact briefly with every nominee while simultaneously opening the envelope. “The winner tonight of the Hastings Humanitarian Award goes to Dominique Jones.”
Roars of celebration echo throughout the room. People jump to their feet. I watch as Dominique has tears run down her face as she makes her way towards the front of the stage. Even though I know the winner knows in advance to ensure they’re in attendance, sometimes I wonder if it really only hits them that they’ve won when their name gets announced.
Dad steps next to Aillard as the board claps, rising from their seats to shake Dominique’s hand. Finally when she makes it to Dad and Aillard, she hugs both of them. Dad looks pleasantly surprised by the display of affection while Aillard stiffens beneath her. She doesn’t seem to notice as she steps away, dipping her head so Dad can place the gold medal around her neck.
“Thank you all so much,” Dominique says into the microphone a few seconds later. “I can’t wait for what this new year will bring. With the added donations and funding, we’ll be sure to expand our current programs to underprivileged communities so that all students have a fair shot of providing a future for themselves and their families. Again, thank you all so much for your belief in me. Merry Christmas!” she gushes before swanning off the stage to be enveloped in her family’s arms.
The party immediately kicks off, servers coming out with food to set in front of our seats and Christmas music begins to softly play from the speakers sporadically placed around the room. Everyone’s excitement is palpable as the festivities begin.
Aillard comes back to the table, slapping King on the shoulder as he passes. “Maybe next time.”
King snorts. “If I’m going to lose to anyone, it’s to those who give a fuck about the people in this world. I can handle not having the additional funding.”
“Nonsense,” a voice says as Nana Noel steps up to our table. She rakes her gaze over everyone with narrowed eyes before a smile crinkles across her face. “I’ll be donating to both Grace’s Mission and Whtiney’s literacy program. My friends are already at the back tables making pledges.”
“Ma’am?” Whitney blinks at her in astonishment. “But my program isn’t–”
“Yes it is,” Aillard interrupts her. “I asked Bex’s father if he’d be willing to add smaller programs to his donation list and we curated a few that we think deserve more attention.” Aillard’s gray eyes swing towards me. “Several of the charities you volunteer for are on the list as well.”
What? My eyes widen in shock. I had no idea Dad was going to do something like this. “Are you serious?”
“Of course he is,” Nana Noel admonishes before Aillard can speak. “The man doesn’t have a humorous bone in his body.”
Whitney snickers while Aillard turns to glare at his girlfriend.
“We’re each donating to individual causes,” Nana Noel elaborates to me. “We want to give back. This year seems to be full of miracles and we want the smaller programs to know they’re thought of too. Perhaps by next year they’ll be here, advocating for their own slot at the Hastings Humanitarian Award.”
“We should create an award for the most philanthropic person out there,” Thorin tosses out, his eyes on me. “You’d win it every year, though, so it might be a little skewed in votes.”
