thank him for the concert, but he was in a meeting. Charlie left his thanks on voice mail, and wondered what had happened between Adam and Maggie that night. The usual, probably, Adam had dazzled her with his fancy footwork, poured a gallon of champagne into her, and she wound up in his bed. He still felt sorry for her when he thought of her. Despite her outfit, there was something sweet and innocent about her. There were times when Adam's behavior with women, and lack of conscience about it, made his skin crawl. But as Adam always pointed out, if they were willing, they were all fair game. He hadn't knocked anyone unconscious and raped them yet. They lay down at his feet adoringly, and what happened after that was between two consenting adults. Charlie just wasn't so sure that Maggie had been quite as adult as she looked, or as practiced at his game. She wasn't looking for implants or a nose job. All she had wanted was a better seat at the concert. Charlie couldn't help wondering what she'd had to give up in exchange. He thought about it as he left his club after the squash game, took a cab home, and told himself he was getting old. Adam's morality, or lack of it, and the way he treated women, had never bothered him before. And as Adam always reminded him, anything was fair in the pursuit of sex and fun. Or was it? Somehow it no longer sounded quite as amusing anymore.
It was nearly six o'clock when he walked into his apartment, listened to his messages, and stood staring at the phone. He wondered if she'd still be in her office, or in group, or maybe she'd gone home. He remembered that he had her card in his wallet, took it out, looked at it for a long moment, and then called her, feeling nervous and foolish. She was the first woman he'd ever met who made him feel as though he was doing something wrong. He wanted to apologize to her for his indulgences and privilege, and yet that same privilege had allowed him to give her a million dollars so she could continue saving the world. He felt like an anxious schoolboy as he heard the phone ring at the other end. He was suddenly praying she wouldn't be there, and was about to hang up, when she answered, sounding out of breath.
“Hello?” She forgot to say who she was, but he knew her voice immediately. He had called on her private line.
“Carole?”
“Yes.” She didn't recognize his voice.
“It's Charlie Harrington. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all,” she lied, rubbing her shin. She had just rammed it, dashing for the phone. “I just got out of group. I ran down the stairs when I heard the phone.”
“Sorry. How's my little friend?” He was referring to Gabby, as Carole knew immediately. She smiled and said she was fine. He asked how things were going at the center, if there were any new developments, and Carole found herself wondering if he was going to be checking on them constantly for the next year. It was a little unusual to hear from the heads of foundations who gave them grants. She wondered why he'd called. “I don't want to make any promises we can't live up to, or raise false hopes, but you mentioned that there were other programs you wanted to implement, and other grant proposals you might want to explore. I wondered if you'd like to do that over lunch or dinner with me sometime.” He had taken the coward's way out, he knew, hiding behind the foundation, but at least he'd called. There was a long pause.
“To be honest, we're not ready to make any more grant requests. We don't have the staff to man the programs I want, or even to write the proposals right now, but yes, actually, I wouldn't mind picking your brain to see what you think of our plans.” She didn't want to head in directions the foundation wasn't open to, and waste a lot of energy and time.
“I'd be happy to listen and give you an honest assessment of where our interests lie. For a later date of course.” It would be tough asking the foundation board to give her more money, when they had just granted her a million dollars. But talk was cheap. “We couldn't really do a lot for you until