“She drove me nuts, but I was fascinated by the fact that she knew what she wanted, that she was so sure.”
“And now, do you know what you want to do?” I reached for one of the bread sticks at the same time he did and our hands bumped. I jumped as if an electrical charge had run through my hand.
Chase leaned back with a sigh. “No. Not really. I know I want to do something that matters. I don’t want to look back and think: ‘Yep, I sure owned some nice cars.’ It doesn’t have to be world changing, like saving all the hungry kids in Africa, but I want it to be something. In the meantime, I’ve decided to let up on myself and stop trying to figure out what to do with my life and instead focus on what I’m doing right now.”
“Seems like a plan. The work you’re doing with the foundation is important.”
“That’s me, charming money out of the wealthy one dollar at a time.”
The waiter put our plates down. Chase had gone for pasta with various kinds of seafood. It looked exotic, but I didn’t think I could bring myself to eat anything that had a tentacle. I’d ordered lasagna. I hoped that didn’t make me look boring. People who rent apartments in Europe eat tentacles, and lasagna eaters consider going to Target to be a big adventure.
“Maybe being charming is the thing you’re really good at, and if charming raises money and awareness for an important cause, then it’s pretty important.”
Chase’s eyes met mine across the table. It was likely due to the candles everywhere, but his eyes actually seemed to twinkle. He nudged my foot with his. “Are you saying you think I’m charming?”
I blushed. “Now you are fishing for compliments.” Our feet were still touching under the table. I didn’t want the connection to end. If he pulled away, there was the risk I would lunge forward so I could still touch him.
“So, tell me about you. Do you know your passion? Your reason for being?” Chase swirled his fork through the pasta, winding it up. He smiled at me, and I tried to determine if he said the word “passion” with an extra emphasis or if it was my rabid imagination.
“I’m not always sure what I want. Sometimes it seems more clear what I don’t want,” I admitted.
“But don’t you want to be going to something instead of running away from something?”
I put my fork down. “I’m not running away,” I said sternly, to convince either him or myself. “I don’t know everything I want, but I do know I want to be an architect.”
“I should introduce you to Mr. McKenna,” Chase offered.
My pulse jumped. “When are he and his wife coming over?”
“Just before the event. Nothing against your hometown, but as you might imagine, this isn’t their favorite place. They aren’t even staying the night. They chartered a boat that will take them back to Seattle after the fund-raiser.”
“Who else is coming to the party?”
Chase listed off the A-list of the Seattle social scene. There were even a few celebrities coming in from California. He noticed my expression. “Celebrities attract media attention. We should bring in a million or so in donations at the event, but we’ll get significantly more online from people who read or see something in the news about it. It’s the follow-up donations that make the difference. We make way more in ten- and twenty-dollar donations. It all adds up.”
“What about the nanny, Nancy Goodall?”
Chase grimaced. “Yeah. She wasn’t invited.”
“Do the McKennas blame her for what happened?”
“No. I think they blame themselves more. They felt bad for her. Nancy was distraught when Ava disappeared. She was in her twenties at the time. The McKennas let her go—they didn’t need to employ a nanny when they didn’t have a kid anymore. Then, of course, she couldn’t find another job.”
“I guess no one wants a nanny who lost her last charge. It’s not very Mary Poppins–ish.”
“Exactly. She started doing interviews
“And now, do you know what you want to do?” I reached for one of the bread sticks at the same time he did and our hands bumped. I jumped as if an electrical charge had run through my hand.
Chase leaned back with a sigh. “No. Not really. I know I want to do something that matters. I don’t want to look back and think: ‘Yep, I sure owned some nice cars.’ It doesn’t have to be world changing, like saving all the hungry kids in Africa, but I want it to be something. In the meantime, I’ve decided to let up on myself and stop trying to figure out what to do with my life and instead focus on what I’m doing right now.”
“Seems like a plan. The work you’re doing with the foundation is important.”
“That’s me, charming money out of the wealthy one dollar at a time.”
The waiter put our plates down. Chase had gone for pasta with various kinds of seafood. It looked exotic, but I didn’t think I could bring myself to eat anything that had a tentacle. I’d ordered lasagna. I hoped that didn’t make me look boring. People who rent apartments in Europe eat tentacles, and lasagna eaters consider going to Target to be a big adventure.
“Maybe being charming is the thing you’re really good at, and if charming raises money and awareness for an important cause, then it’s pretty important.”
Chase’s eyes met mine across the table. It was likely due to the candles everywhere, but his eyes actually seemed to twinkle. He nudged my foot with his. “Are you saying you think I’m charming?”
I blushed. “Now you are fishing for compliments.” Our feet were still touching under the table. I didn’t want the connection to end. If he pulled away, there was the risk I would lunge forward so I could still touch him.
“So, tell me about you. Do you know your passion? Your reason for being?” Chase swirled his fork through the pasta, winding it up. He smiled at me, and I tried to determine if he said the word “passion” with an extra emphasis or if it was my rabid imagination.
“I’m not always sure what I want. Sometimes it seems more clear what I don’t want,” I admitted.
“But don’t you want to be going to something instead of running away from something?”
I put my fork down. “I’m not running away,” I said sternly, to convince either him or myself. “I don’t know everything I want, but I do know I want to be an architect.”
“I should introduce you to Mr. McKenna,” Chase offered.
My pulse jumped. “When are he and his wife coming over?”
“Just before the event. Nothing against your hometown, but as you might imagine, this isn’t their favorite place. They aren’t even staying the night. They chartered a boat that will take them back to Seattle after the fund-raiser.”
“Who else is coming to the party?”
Chase listed off the A-list of the Seattle social scene. There were even a few celebrities coming in from California. He noticed my expression. “Celebrities attract media attention. We should bring in a million or so in donations at the event, but we’ll get significantly more online from people who read or see something in the news about it. It’s the follow-up donations that make the difference. We make way more in ten- and twenty-dollar donations. It all adds up.”
“What about the nanny, Nancy Goodall?”
Chase grimaced. “Yeah. She wasn’t invited.”
“Do the McKennas blame her for what happened?”
“No. I think they blame themselves more. They felt bad for her. Nancy was distraught when Ava disappeared. She was in her twenties at the time. The McKennas let her go—they didn’t need to employ a nanny when they didn’t have a kid anymore. Then, of course, she couldn’t find another job.”
“I guess no one wants a nanny who lost her last charge. It’s not very Mary Poppins–ish.”
“Exactly. She started doing interviews
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