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“Shantel is good friends with Greyson Black’s wife, Nicole Cabot-Black. She thinks it is a wonderful idea, and she’s not sure they can make it, but they want to donate. Both Shantel and Leiti promised to bring in other donors. They just needed to make sure that we had somewhere large enough to host the ball—”
“Ball! Mamá, it’s not a ball! It’s dinner. Did you tell those ladies that it was a ball?”
Mamá finally looks chastised as she toys with the pearls at her neck. I narrow my eyes and stand behind my desk.
“What have you done? It’s always been a small dinner for our usual sponsors, who are wealthy but not pretentious! Will they even feel comfortable in a different setting?”
She huffs and waves off my concerns. “Sit down. Sit down, Yaya!” she repeats when I remain standing.
I slowly sit down. I swear that my headache is the size of the Atlantic Ocean.
“I did mention that it was a ball, and while I know that isn’t what we’ve traditionally done, I thought it might be a great idea to host our first one. Besides, those types of things draw in a different crowd. Look at it as an investment in the community. The more donors and sponsors we attract, the more people we can help, Yaya. Don’t be so selfish,” she chastises me.
I’m not so sure that I’m the one being selfish.
“I have one month to make these changes, Mamá!”
“And you have the perfect person on your side to bring them to light! Soy yo!” she says, pointing at herself.
***
“ITHINK IT’S GREATwhat she’s doing,” Nicky says, scooping my hair up as he washes my back with his other.
“Mm...I don’t trust it. Mamá has a reason behind everything that she does.”
“Trust that maybe it’s in the best interest of the foundation. She’s always done what’s in the foundation’s best interest, hasn’t she?”
I scan the major changes she’s made through the years and slowly shake my head.
“Yes, she has.”
“Then trust her now,” he says as he rinses my body.
I stayed at the office until eight tonight, reviewing Mamá’s ideas with Carlos and Guadalupe. They thought it was a great idea and excitedly tossed ideas back and forth. Guadalupe, at some point, checked out on us mentally and started scanning the internet for what she planned to wear to the ball.
Carlos was full of laughter and joy after he shared the news with his wife. I didn’t have the heart to rain on their parade and share my doubts about the ball. How could I when my staff was so thrilled about the change?
So, I’d decided to hold my concerns off until I could come home and speak with Nicky. Now he’s on board with her as well.
I knock the little niggling feeling to the back of my mind and pray that, for once, Mamá doesn’t have alternative motives for her actions.
“She came by to see me, you know,” Nicky says softly as he pulls a towel from the linen closet in our bathroom.
“Oh? What did she want?” I ask.
“Just to tell me that she was thrilled that I was alive and back home where I belong.”
“Did she say anything else?” I ask, noticing that his tone is a little off.
He turns around with a large, fluffy, dandelion-yellow towel in his arms and walks to me.
“Did you ever introduce her to that guy?”
I stiffen as he wraps the towel around me. “What guy?”
“You know the one...that Maxwell guy.”
“No. Why do you ask?”
