“Ms. Simmons, how would Bartell Corporation like to acquire a good, gold-star foundation that’s in need of quality overseeing? And how would you like to choose its new director?”
Shock shot through Felicity. “You’re joking.”
“I’m deadly serious. I have deep love and concern for Living Ruff. I think, though, it would be in good hands if you took it off mine.”
“Bartell Corp is a media empire. It has no interest in overseeing homeless people’s pets.”
“Why not? Things change. I read that your boss is planning to build a skyscraper. Real estate now? That’s not very media oriented, is it?”
“There’s a big difference between owning a building and owning a charity.”
“Ah, that’s the thing: charities aren’t like businesses in the sense that no one owns them. Think of Living Ruff as a boat I built. I finished it, set everything in motion, put the board members on deck as crew, then cast it out to sea. It’s now owned by no one. It just needs steering every now and then to keep it off the rocks. It’s technically not mine anymore, but I do keep a fond eye on it to make sure it’s fine. And I help it pay its bills.”
“Well, the bills aren’t something my company would be interested in taking on, thanks. Especially if you’re not going to be doing fundraisers anymore,” Felicity said firmly.
“I understand your concerns, but I’ll see to it that my friends keep running fundraising lunches to keep it in the black, even though I’ll be hands-off myself in future. So all Living Ruff needs is someone excellent to take on the cause in some showy way—so everyone gets the message it’s not mine and Harvey’s anymore. The current board will acquiesce if I ask them to vote in new members and let Bartell Corp people take their places. And it will need a new director of your choosing, of course.”
“Are you sure you can’t just replace Harvey?” Felicity asked. “That’s the easiest solution.”
“I’m afraid not. I know how it would look if I replaced my own husband—a man well-known to adore his charity. Everyone would immediately suspect he’d done something and ask questions. Because despite what he apparently thinks, I love him dearly and would never take something he loved away from him. Alternatively, people would think he was deathly ill, but when he failed to show signs of dying, they’d go back to assuming he’d done something bad. He’s also too young to retire. So you see? I’m snookered. It has to be the clean broom coming in, replacing everyone, including the director, so it doesn’t look like anything’s amiss.”
“And if I say no to this?”
“I’ll have no choice but to close the charity.”
“You could divest it to someone else.”
“And I’d be obliged to disclose to them what happened: the scam, the missing donation. The more people who know, the more it becomes a potential problem that puts Living Ruff’s future at risk. Really, Ms. Simmons, is this so onerous to take on? It’s one little charity. It will run itself independently of your media empire; their debts and credits are theirs to worry about. Not to mention it’s good publicity for your company and a great public service opportunity for those you invite to be board members. Volunteering goes down just as well with the corporate set as the wider public.”
“My boss might not share your enthusiasm.”
“If she didn’t, she’d never have invested $1.4 million in it. You already know she’s in favor. Now it’s your vote. I’d like to know now, though, if you’re seriously considering it.”
This was too fast. “I’ll need the full details of accounts—”
“I can get some of my clever people to supply that to you easily. However, Living Ruff’s filed 990 forms are highly accurate, and I suspect you’ve already looked them up, have been through them line by line, and know the health of my foundation better than most of our board. Now you’re just stalling. Are you interested in going forward with this, or am I closing down Living Ruff? If so, tell me now so I can start going into damage-control mode. Either way, your boss still gets her $1.4 million check.”
“I could still call the cops, you know. Charles deserves it.”
“Yes, he does.” Rosalind eyed her. “Although I know my punishment will hurt him far more and far longer than the criminal justice system and impact my charity far less. Of course, we both know you could be a wrecking ball if you so desired. So will it be war or diplomacy tonight?”
The irony was that Felicity’s choices had distilled down to what Elena had outlined: Rampaging Rambo or softly, softly.
Rosalind was right. The charity could be isolated financially from Bartell Corp. Publicity would also be positive. But…a homeless pet charity? She turned that over for a few minutes as Rosalind watched her silently.
Felicity made a decision.
“Put in writing Charles’s punishment, outlining everything he is required to do to make amends,” Felicity said. “I’ll have our own clever people see that he upholds his end. If not, I will not hesitate to go to the police and reveal everything. And I’ll do that even if Bartell Corp has committed to help run Living Ruff.”
Rosalind tilted her head in a respectful nod. “Done. And I will include a nondisclosure agreement in that paperwork, which will become void if we breach our side and Charles doesn’t do what is listed.”
“Acceptable. All right, I can confirm Bartell Corp’s interest in taking Living Ruff off your plate, subject to all the legalities being sorted out regarding Charles’s community service and NDA.”
“Well. It’s been interesting doing business with you, Ms. Simmons. I had wondered if you were going to ask Ms. Bartell for permission for all this. I see now that you are the one running things over there.”
Felicity froze. She hadn’t seriously thought to check in with Elena. Mainly because Rosalind was right: it was clear that Elena supported Living Ruff. But also because of what her boss had said earlier about Felicity doing whatever she had to without worrying what Elena thought.
That’s exactly what Felicity had done. That’s what a boss would do. Pride bloomed through her. “I’m the one running things,” Felicity agreed quietly.
That felt right saying it. She rose to take her leave. “Don’t be too hard on your husband. He’s clearly a man terrified of losing you to the point he’s not thinking straight. I’ve heard love does that. Makes you do the most ill-thought-out things.” She smiled.
Rosalind fell silent for a moment. “Harvey will be reminded as to why I chose him. He is very special. It’s rare to find someone who isn’t interested in my status, money, or power, let alone doesn’t see it as something to covet. All these things so many people crave just don’t occur to him to think about.” She leaned in. “If you ever find someone like my Harvey, Ms. Simmons, I recommend hanging onto him”—she paused and her smile grew cheeky—“or her.”
With that, she rose and showed Felicity out.
CHAPTER 14
Ambition
It was good to be back in the office, Felicity decided. She might have only been gone a week, but she felt changed in so many ways. It wasn’t just what she’d accomplished but how her eyes had been opened to things far beyond her elite bubble of entrepreneurs, lawyers, and wealth.
Today might be a Saturday, but there was too much to do before Elena left for Sydney for Felicity not to be hard at work in Bartell Corporation’s round, towering headquarters.
Felicity was on the penthouse floor today—home to Elena’s office, a hi-tech boardroom, and a few luxury amenities. She actually preferred her own office one floor down. Less wall-to-wall glass everywhere she turned, less ostentation, and a constant white noise of human activity, not just the sound of one lone voice on the phone in the background. Up here was too large. Too still. It made her too self-conscious.
Felicity unkinked her back. She was borrowing the boardroom today, which allowed her to spread her work out and remain close while she waited for Elena to finish up a long overseas call. Grabbing her cell, Felicity texted Cooper to suggest a date night. She had so much to tell her.
Speaking of news, Felicity still had to tell her boss about the deal she’d made. She was proud to have solved the Living Ruff case in a way that meant no bad publicity and the charity remaining business as usual.
As of half an hour ago, Felicity had a copy of Rosalind’s bank deposit receipt for $1.4 million credited back to Elena. And she had a bunch of paperwork from Rosalind about Charles’s community service contract and a nondisclosure agreement.
All the papers needed was Elena’s signature.
“Felicity.” Her name was called out almost simultaneously with a distant phone thudding into its receiver.
She grabbed the paperwork and followed the voice into Elena’s office.
As Felicity sat in the visitor’s chair, Elena gave her a sharp look.
“Apparently, I have acquired a charity. Would you care to explain?” She held up a faxed page that had Rosalind Stone’s letterhead on it. “Ms. Stone, the chair of Living Ruff’s board, sent me over some details to facilitate your agreement. She is anxious to finalize things quickly.”
“Ah.” Felicity had wanted to be the one to break the news. “Yes, Bartell Corp will have a hand in looking out for Living Ruff New York in a loose sense. It will run itself, though. We’re just the…um…benevolent shepherds.”
Elena rubbed her temple. “I sent you there to see where my money went, not make them cough up an entire charity.”
“You can’t exactly own a charity,” Felicity began. “Think of it like a boat…” She faded out at Elena’s incredulous do-not-continue look. “Erm, okay, forget that.” Felicity then launched into a succinct explanation of it all—Harvey being scammed, Charles’s blackmail, and Rosalind’s deal.
“So let me get this straight. Your choices were: One, going to the police, sparking a public mess. Two, us acquiring a charity and I get my money back. Or three, the charity closing down to avoid a scandal but I still get my money back…minus the headache of homeless animals, filling boards, and related paperwork to worry about?”
