I’m ready to say my goodbyes and make a run for it when coffee is served. Then Yumi stands and taps a teaspoon against her wine glass. Silence descends. “As you all know, Jack Elliot passed away recently. His loss has been keenly felt by all in Denver, but especially those of us in the libraries. When our government funding was cut, it was Jack Elliot who first stepped in to help fill the deficit. His support enabled us to keep the lights on and the doors open. Alice Lawrence is here today to say a few words on behalf of the Elliot Family Foundation.”
Fuck me.
Polite applause.
Yumi sits back down.
Penny’s startled gaze meets mine across the room. Guess she didn’t know about this part either. That makes me feel a little better.
I get to my feet, my hands braced against the table. Something has to keep me upright since my knees have turned to water. Every damn eye in the room is on me. Waiting. Expectant. And this is what Catherine really wanted, I know it down to my bones. Me standing in front of a selection of the city’s finest making a fool of myself. Yeah well. Not today, Satan.
“Thank you, Yumi,” I say, my smile fixed in place. “It’s such a pleasure to be here representing the Elliot Family Foundation. What can I say about Jack Elliot? Good question. Unfortunately, to my great regret, I never actually got to meet him. But I’ve heard many people talk about Jack and it seems that inevitably they all return to this one defining characteristic…his single-mindedness. The man’s drive, focus, and unrivaled dedication to getting the job done. In this way, he is without a doubt an inspiration to many.
“What I’d really like to talk about today, however, is the legacy he leaves behind. Not only through his work, but with his four children who have shown such love and loyalty in supporting each other during this difficult time. I don’t doubt that each of them will go on to do great things. And then there’s what he achieved through a lifetime spent supporting such causes as the libraries.
“It was the gift of story handed down since the dawn of time that helped us to learn and evolve. It was the invention of the printing press that enabled people from all different walks of life to begin understanding and empathizing with one another. And it’s our libraries today and the people who staff them that continue this invaluable work, ensuring everyone has access to the gift of knowledge and the possibility of a brighter future.
“Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time and your coffee is getting cold, which is unforgivable. So let me finish by saying that the Elliot Family Foundation is honored to support this city’s libraries and, in memory of Jack, to continue to meet the donation amount set by him. Thank you.”
Yumi shrieks in surprise. Penny’s mouth hangs open. Debra drops her cake fork. The applause is thunderous. I’ve never been so popular in my life and I probably never will be again. To think that all it cost is an unspecified amount of someone else’s money and any chance of Catherine ever accepting me. Hard not to smile. That’s when the person from the newspaper snaps my picture.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” says Beck as he walks in the door, cell attached to his ear. “You sent her to an event with absolutely no information or instructions and she made a speech that she wasn’t aware she’d have to make and—rather than rocking the boat in any way—she committed to nothing more than a continuance of business as usual? That sounds to me like an entirely measured position to adopt.”
Beck flinches, moving the phone away from his ear. Even I can hear Catherine’s reply from over on the couch. The woman is furious.
“You’re right, Grandma, that is quite an amount of money. And how wonderful that it’s going to continue to be given to the city libraries as Dad would have wanted.” He pauses. “Hello? Hello, Grandma? I think she hung up on me.”
“Hmm.”
He crashes onto the couch beside me, slinging an arm around my neck. “Hello, dearest. I’ve just been hearing all about your busy day.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in?”
“I don’t know. Eleven, maybe?”
I sigh.
“Can’t even imagine what you’re going to get for Christmas. A lump