One
Parker
Only two things in life were better than chocolate-covered raisins: Dressing up in high heels to go with your beautiful—but rented—pillar-box red evening gown, and raising money for a charity that helped sick children and their families. Combining all three was pure bliss. As I shook more chocolate-covered raisins into my palm and surveyed the cavernous ballroom before me, I allowed myself to bask in exactly three seconds of bone-deep contentment. After all, I needed to go through the auction lots one more time to make sure everything was in order. Then I’d check on the kitchen, and finally, when everything was ready, I’d change.
One of the large ballroom doors creaked as it opened and my best friend, Sutton, who I’d roped into helping, slid inside. “It’s huge in here.”
“More people means more money.”
“This is the auction table?” she asked. I’d put her in charge of showing off the lots as guests arrived and encouraging people to bid.
“Yes. If the items are really expensive or they can’t be put on the table because it’s a holiday or something, there’s a picture. But full details are in the auction catalogue. There’s one on every seat and a back-up pile under that table.” I pointed to a side table draped in a floor-length cloth and topped with a slightly over-the-top floral arrangement. When I’d been put in charge of the gala, I’d tried to think of everything, including where to hide necessary administrative materials. For an event this critical to our success, the details mattered.
“I’ll put some out here so people can grab them.” She pulled out a handful and put them on the corner.
I was aiming to raise fifty thousand from the auction tonight, plus another fifty from ticket sales. My stomach churned at the thought of how much was on the line. The blissful contentment I’d basked in just a minute ago was shunted aside to make room for a pit of dread in my stomach.
“How did I let you talk me into this?” I asked Sutton, regretting the fact that I was going to be one of the auction lots—up on stage like a spa gift basket.
“I was being entirely practical. You’re beautiful. Every man at this charity will want to bid on you and take you to dinner. That means more money for the kids.”
I took a breath. She was wrong and she was right. I had no doubt people would bid on the chance to take me on a date, but not because of their desire to spend an evening in my company. No, people would bid to please my father. As head of one of the biggest investment banks in the world, my dad had been a titan of the financial world for decades and wielded a kind of power that never really made sense. To me he was just my dad. Sutton was right—we were about raising money tonight and it shouldn’t matter why people bid on the lots. It was just important that they did.