“We’ll work everything out.” He stepped aside to let her leave. “We have time.”
Her brown gaze was curious. “Yes, we do.”
Donovan watched her leave. They now had the framework of their story straight, but they’d need more than words to convince her friends. His pulse picked up. Donovan was beginning to look forward to preparing for Rose’s reunion.
* * *
On Monday morning, Donovan realized he was about to get an earful from Cecil Lowell. He recognized the younger man’s number on his cellular phone display. Somehow the most junior member of the shelter’s board of directors had convinced himself that he had a lot to teach the veterans. But right now, Donovan’s greatest concern was that Cecil continued to ignore his request not to contact him at work.
“What can I do for you, Cecil?” Donovan worked hard to keep his impatience from his voice.
“We need to call another special meeting of the subcommittee.” The urgency in Cecil’s voice demanded Donovan’s full attention.
“What’s happened?” Donovan remembered to lock his computer system before turning away from his monitor.
“We need to strategize what we’re going to do if the city council rejects our statement.” The observation was strange coming from Cecil, who hadn’t supported the board’s statement in the first place.
Donovan sat back on his black, padded executive chair. He struggled again to keep his impatience from his tone. “What makes you think the council will reject our statement?”
“As I made clear after my review of the statement, I have reservations about your girlfriend’s work.”
Donovan started to deny the personal relationship between him and Rose until he remembered that they were indeed trying to project that image. They’d agreed to maintain their pretense within both of their social circles to help keep their story straight. It also would protect them against having their cover blown by mutual acquaintances they may not be aware of. Six degrees of separation, you never knew who you may know.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cecil, any reservations you have come from your opposition to the statement in general.”
“No, they stemmed from the fact that the arguments against the pawnshop weren’t well formulated.”
Donovan swallowed his laughter. “Where did you get your law degree, Cecil?”
“I don’t need a law degree to recognize the arguments in the statement are weak.” Cecil’s tone was dismissive. “I realize you’re impressed with your girlfriend’s work, but as I made clear during our review, I’m not.”
Donovan sat up, fisting his left hand on his modular Plexiglas desk. “Rose is more than my girlfriend. She’s an experienced lawyer and an associate with a prestigious law firm.”
Cecil sighed. “I know we needed a lawyer who’d represent us pro bono, but your decision to work with your girlfriend doesn’t show good judgment. I think you should know that I’m going to challenge your presidency for the board of directors.”
Donovan hadn’t expected this. “You’re going to ask the board for a special election to choose a new president in the middle of the term?”
“That’s right. We need a chairman with better vision for the shelter. We can’t continue down this road. It’s too destructive.”
Donovan was intrigued. “And you’re going to suggest the board elect you as its next president?”
“I realize I’m the junior member, but it’s time for new blood and fresh ideas. You’ve been wrong on too many things.”
The accusation stung. Donovan took a calming breath, drawing in the scent of fresh coffee. “Such as?”
“The pawnshop.” Cecil raised his voice. “I gave you a list of reasons why the board should support the shop moving into the neighborhood.”
His list had included a series of unsupported predictions. It had given Donovan grave concerns about Cecil’s critical thinking skills. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Donovan pictured Cecil making this call from his office desk at the bank. Did the young executive not have enough work to occupy his time?
“The majority of members voted to oppose the shop.” Donovan hadn’t forgotten that Cecil was the only member who thought the shop would have a positive impact on the struggling community.
“If I were chair, I wouldn’t have allowed the vote.” Cecil snorted. “I’d have convinced the members that the pawnshop would benefit the shelter.”
“You tried that. No one supported you.” Donovan’s memory flashed back to Cecil going on for ten minutes, reading his memo on what he predicted would be the benefits of having the pawnshop in the community. Kim Lee had finally cut him off.
“As a new business in the community, it would be in the pawnshop owner’s interest to support the shelter. It also would bring new customers into the neighborhood who would then see the services we offer to the homeless.”