Power and Passion (23 page)

What on Earth could he want?
she
wondered, sitting down on her bed. Suddenly she felt exhausted. She
stared at the phone for a moment, debating whether or not to call
him back. Of course she didn't want to, not after how he had
treated her. But what if something was really wrong—something only
she could help him with? What if—

Then she noticed the text message. Just one.
She swiped over to that screen. This was from Pierce too. Sara took
a deep breath and held it then opened up the text.

"Since you're not answering your phone," it
began, "I suppose I'll have to tell you this way. I can't fund your
gala. I had an investment fall through, and I'm low on funds. Sorry
if this causes any inconvenience for you."

W
hat am I going to do?"

Twelve hours later Sara sat in Maryam's
living room, her head in her hands, tears streaking down her
cheeks. She sniffled and wiped at her face with a tissue then
looked back at her friend.

"I mean what are
we
going to do? I…I
can't believe he did this." She held her hands up in a shrug. "What
are we going to do? The gala is ruined!"

Maryam, who had just come back in with two
cups of tea, one for each of them, sat down next to Sara. She
handed her old friend one of the warm mugs, and they both paused to
take a sip. Sara, who had not eaten since leaving the desert safari
the night before, felt the steaming tea passing through her like a
trail of flame.

"The first thing you're going to do," Maryam
said, her voice gentle and calm, "is take a deep breath. All right?
In… and out. In…and out."

The two women inhaled and exhaled in unison,
Sara with her eyes closed, Maryam watching her the whole time. Sara
had shown up at her door just a quarter hour earlier, obviously in
distress. Judging by her puffy, red eyes, Maryam guessed she had
been up all night, probably crying like she was now. Looking at
Sara as she continued her deep breathing, Maryam shook her
head.

She was not worried about the gala but about
her friend. Sara did not deserve this pain. Maryam had to find out
what she could do to help.

"All right," she went on. "Are you feeling
better?"

Sara, taking another sip of tea, nodded at
Maryam, peering at her with tired eyes over the brim of her cup. "A
little," she said when she was done, as she set the teacup on a
nearby table.

"Good," Maryam replied. "A little is a
start."

She paused for a moment, considering what to
say, then went on.

"Sara, did Pierce give you a reason for
pulling out his financial support from the gala?" She had a good
idea why he had done it—they were, after all, no longer engaged. In
a sad way it made sense that he would not want to be responsible
for this large expense. However, she was interested in what he had
said.

Once again Sara shrugged. "He just said he
had lost some money on an investment. So I guess he can't afford it
anymore." She leveled her eyes across the room, gazing at nothing
as her mind worked slowly. She hadn't slept a wink; she'd sat up in
bed all night, her thoughts going in different directions. Now
exhaustion was catching up with her, making it hard to think.

She turned to face her friend. "I don't know
why I didn't think about this when we broke up. I feel so stupid. I
should have known he wouldn't want to put in the money anymore."
"No, no, Sara," Maryam said quickly, shaking her head. "You are not
stupid. Don't feel like that and never say that about yourself. We
are all human, yes? We are not perfect. Listen, none of us thought
about the money issue when Pierce—well, when he broke off your
engagement. So does that make us all stupid? You, me, and Joan
too?"

Sara laughed a little, thankful for her
friend's objective point of view. "No, of course not. I just…I feel
like I should have seen it coming. If I had, maybe we could have
done something about it. I don't know: found other backers or
raised money somehow. But now the gala is only two months away.
We've already made commitments to the Grand Creek, to caterers, to
the musicians. We have speakers booked." Tears began to pool in her
eyes again. "I already gave Diana, my boss, a copy of the
preliminary proposal. She said it was great and is planning to talk
to the directors this week about the gala. She's giving it her full
support. What am I going to tell her when we have to cancel the
whole thing?"

Her voice cracked on the last question, and
she brought her hands up to her face once again, trying to hide the
sobs that racked her. Or maybe just trying to hide from the
situation at hand. Even more than the commitments they had made,
even more than the work the three of them had already put into the
project, Sara was so disappointed that her plans would not come to
fruition. She had dreamt of this gala; she had loved it because of
the difference it would make in so many people's lives, and she had
dedicated every spare moment she had to it. She believed in its
positive impact, and through that she had also come to believe in
herself more than ever. Where she once had thought she would never
be capable of pulling off such a huge undertaking, more and more
she had begun to realize that, yes, she could do it. With help and
support from good friends and colleagues, she could reach this
goal. It was almost within her reach.

And now Pierce had snatched it away.

"What are we going to do?" she said again,
looking at Maryam with wide, worried eyes. It seemed to be the only
thought her mind wanted to have, but the answer was not
forthcoming.

"As far as I know," Maryam replied plainly,
"we're going to have a gala, Sara."

The two women looked at each other for a
moment. The room was silent—Ibrahim had kindly taken their daughter
to play in another room so Sara and Maryam could talk; the little
girl's squeals and laughter echoed faintly down the hall—and
sunlight streamed in through the panoramic windows. Sara glanced
outside, squinting her eyes at the glare. It was Sunday morning,
but somewhere out there, she knew, Pierce was at work, earning
money to make up for what he had lost. To replace what he had so
abruptly taken from her.

"I don't see how it will work," she said,
her voice low now, too, and tinged with despair. "No money means no
venue, no food, no music. No advertising, no PR campaigns. Without
money we can't even print up invitations to ask people to
come."

The thought seemed almost comical to her in
her tired state, and she giggled nervously.

"Sara, Sara," Maryam said, reaching out to
pick up her friend's teacup. She handed it to Sara and encouraged
her to drink. "Remember what you always said to me? Where there's a
will, there's a way."

Once again over the side of her teacup, Sara
nodded her agreement. "And I sure have the will. I can't give
up…no, I won't give up. I just have to find a way to move forward…a
solution."

"You've gotten it this far," Maryam said.
"You've gotten
us
this far, Sara, and no one is ready to
give up just yet. So if this gala is meant to be, and I do believe
it is, then it will be.

You will do it.
We
will do it
together." She gave Sara a warm smile.

"But the money," Sara interrupted, her
shoulders going slack as she closed her eyes. "How can we do any of
it without the money?"

"I don't think I need to tell you this,"
Maryam said as she stood up, smoothing out her jeans as she did so.
At home, when it was just her and her husband and daughter, she did
not wear an abaya, and Sara was a good enough friend that she did
not need to wear it in front of her either. "But Pierce is not the
only source of money in this city."

Finally Sara managed to let a little smile
come out. Maryam grinned back then held out a hand to her. "Come
on."

Sara readily grabbed it. "Where are we
going?" she asked.

"To tell Joan what's going on. I think this
is something we all need to work on together."

* * *

By the time Joan got home from the emergency
meeting with Sara and Maryam, the sun was beginning to set. She put
down her things in the kitchen then went into the living room,
where David was engrossed in a book. A couple of lamps were on, and
the room was dim and comfy, so inviting after the difficult
afternoon she and the others had just spent together.

"Well, you look like you've been through the
wringer," David told her as she went over to sit near him. As she
did so, he closed his book, giving her his full attention. "What's
up? Rough meeting?"

Joan let out a long sigh. "Well, it started
out that way, but, thank goodness, it had a happy ending. Poor
Sara. Remember I told you how her fiancé broke up with her?"

"Oh, yeah," David said, scrunching his face
up in a grimace. "How is she holding up?"

"Oh, she's all right," Joan said with a
little laugh. "You know, it's been hard. But I think she's the type
who keeps her emotions inside a lot, so it's difficult to tell.
Anyway, she's already been on a couple of dates with a new guy, so
I guess she's getting over it."

"All right! Good for her." David laughed
too. "So if that's not the problem…?"

"Well," Joan said, settling into the sofa.
She picked up a large, cushy pillow and hugged it in front of her.
"Pierce, the ex-fiancé, had offered to put up the money for the
gala. Back when they were still together, that is."

"Oh," David said, contorting his face again.
"I can see where this is going."

"Yeah." Joan nodded. A slight throbbing had
begun in her temples, and she brought her fingertips up to massage
them, closing her eyes as she did so. "He sent her a text last
night saying he can't give her the money now."

"Wow, that's not good."

"No, no, it isn't." Joan opened her eyes.
Everything around her seemed softer and out of focus, just adding
to her sleepy mood. "It really knocked Sara down. She's been crying
about it since last night. But it hasn't completely dampened her
drive or her determination. She's picking herself up and looking
ahead, and that's the best thing she can do right now."

Joan stopped and shook her head, the image
of Sara's sad eyes coming back to her again. No one deserved such
unhappiness and especially not her. Sara was always so optimistic,
so energetic and full of life. To see her so distraught had hurt
Joan's heart.

"But without the money, does that mean the
gala's off?" David shifted in his seat to face her more and put his
book down at his side. "After all the work the three of you have
done? What a shame that would be."

"Yes, it would," Joan replied, looking at
him once again. "But really, David, do you honestly think I am
going to let that happen?"

It took a moment, but he saw the sly smile
creeping onto her face, the same one that was now curling up the
corners of his lips.

"Well, no, of course not," he said. "So what
did you do?

What solution did you come up with?"

"First I gave Sara a good pep talk. She was
so worried, so apologetic—she thought Maryam and I were going to
hate her and that she'd failed somehow. Not just failed to see the
gala through but failed the two of us as friends and colleagues on
the project."

Just thinking about how upset Sara had been
brought a lump into Joan's throat. Sara had really thought it was
all over now that she could no longer put in the money—and she'd
thought Joan especially would be disappointed in her. Hearing the
younger woman say such a thing had struck a chord in Joan, one she
had not felt vibrating in a long time. Was this the image she had
come to project, one that said all she cared about was success at
any cost? That was not her—not by a long shot. And she did not want
the people she cared about to think that was how she would treat
them either.

"So I told her it was not her fault, of
course," Joan went on, her voice cracking a little bit as she
spoke. "And that I was sorry that this turn of events had happened
to her and to the gala. But it's just not a reason to give in, you
know? Money comes and goes. But your family? Your good friends?
Your support system? Those do not leave you. And lack of money
cannot stop you from doing the work you're called to do."

David nodded at her, happy to see his fiery,
feisty Joanie once more. She was always passionate about everything
she did, but these days it was in a much more subdued way; she just
wasn't the rabble rouser she used to be.

We all get older
, he told himself
whenever he thought about her this way.
We all settle into our
ways
. It didn't mean he loved her any less; in fact he loved
her more every day, if that was possible. But he did enjoy seeing
this side of her from time to time.