She’s taking over Tia Kelly’s blog today, talking about life, love and maybe even about Chris!
“Did you commit?”
Robyn licked her lips, wondering whether she dared admit it.
When she didn’t answer right away, Chris looked up from the hastily typed one-pager she’d pulled together on her meeting with Bill Stafford.
“I gave him a strong, positive forecast,” she said.
Chris’ eyes met hers and then he looked down at the paper again. “How strong, and how positive?”
“I virtually . . . guaranteed there would be some form of . . . support.”
At that Chris looked at her again and put the sheet of paper on the coffee table between them.
They were in the sitting area of his office and he was eating what looked like a very insipid salad. Robyn wondered whether he was still getting migraines, and whether foods with salt or spices had been removed from his diet as a precaution as they had been for her brother at one time.
“Do you know how much I give to charity every year?” he asked.
Robyn shook her head.
“A lot,” he said, his eyes still fixed on her. “I have a foundation. People who want money for their projects generally apply for it. Bill Stafford was using his position as a friend of a friend to get to the front of the line. Just go around that whole process and come straight to the money-tree. Do you think that’s fair?”
Robyn blinked. “I didn’t know any of that.”
“He’s one of Riley’s friends. She has these little artist soirees and he goes to them. So he asked her to get this meeting, and because Riley can’t say no to anyone, she got him the meeting.”
“And you agreed to it, let’s not forget,” Robyn said growing impatient with his condescension “So you can’t say no, either. At least, not to Riley.”
Her mother always told her she was a little impulsive, and that one day it would get her into hot water. Perhaps today was the day.