one. I’d rather have new prom dresses.”
“I thought I made it clear the prom dress issue was closed. As for design money for the offices, I’ve allocated that from a separate budget.”
“I don’t care what kind of shell game you play with the money! It’s all coming from the same pot, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer her. He was not even trying to disguise the fact, now, that he found her attempts at assertiveness amusing. She tried, desperately, to make him see reason.
“Girls who are dying to have a nice dress won’t getone, but we’ll have the poshest offices in the East Village! Doesn’t something strike you as very wrong about that?”
But even as Molly said it, she was aware it wasn’t all about the girls and their dresses. Maybe even most of it wasn’t about that.
It was about turning over control. Or not turning over control. To people who had not proven themselves deserving. Especially handsome men people!
“Actually, no, it doesn’t strike me as wrong. Prom dresses in the face of all this need is what’s wrong. ”
Part of her said maybe her new boss was not the best place to start in standing her ground. On the other hand, maybe it was just time for her to learn to stand her ground no matter who it was with.
“This is what’s wrong,” she said. “How on earth can you possibly justify this extravagance? How? How can you march in here, knowing nothing about this organization, and start making these sweeping changes?”
“I’ve made it my business to know about the organization. The changes you’re seeing today are largely cosmetic.” A tiny smile touched his lips. “Sweeping is tomorrow.”
“Don’t mock me,” she said. “You told me I could have two days to convince you what Second Chances really needs.”
“I did. And I’m ready to go.”
“But you’re already spending all our money!”
“Second Chances hasn’t begun to capitalize on the kind of money that’s available to organizations like this. A charity, for all its noble purposes, is still a business. A business has to run efficiently, this kind of business has to make an impression. Every single person whowalks through the front door of this office has the potential to be the person who could donate a million dollars to Second Chances. You have one chance to make a first impression, to capitalize on that opportunity. One. Trust me with this.”
Molly suddenly felt like a wreck, her attempt to be assertive backfiring and leaving her feeling regretful and uncertain. Trust him?
Good grief, was there a job she was worse at than choosing whom to trust? She wished Miss Viv was here to walk her through this minefield she found herself in—that she hated finding herself in! Second Chances was supposed to be the place where she didn’t feel like this: threatened, as if your whole world could be whipped out from under you in the blink of an eye.
Molly, there are going to be some changes.
“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. She was very aware that it rested on her shoulders to save the essence of Second Chances. If it was left to him the family feeling would be stripped from this place as ruthlessly as Vikings stripped treasures from the monasteries they were sacking!
The consultant, thankfully, was gone from her office, and Molly sat down at her desk, aware she was shaking from her heated encounter with Houston, and determined to try to act as if it was a normal day, to regain her equilibrium. She would open her e-mail first.
Resolutely she tapped her keyboard and her computer screen came up. She was relieved to see an e-mail from Miss Viv.
Please give me direction, she whispered to the computer. Please show me how to handle this, how to save what is most important about us. The love.
Aware she was holding her breath, Molly clicked. No message—a paperclip indicated an attachment.
She clicked on the paperclip and a video opened. It was a grainy picture of
“I thought I made it clear the prom dress issue was closed. As for design money for the offices, I’ve allocated that from a separate budget.”
“I don’t care what kind of shell game you play with the money! It’s all coming from the same pot, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer her. He was not even trying to disguise the fact, now, that he found her attempts at assertiveness amusing. She tried, desperately, to make him see reason.
“Girls who are dying to have a nice dress won’t getone, but we’ll have the poshest offices in the East Village! Doesn’t something strike you as very wrong about that?”
But even as Molly said it, she was aware it wasn’t all about the girls and their dresses. Maybe even most of it wasn’t about that.
It was about turning over control. Or not turning over control. To people who had not proven themselves deserving. Especially handsome men people!
“Actually, no, it doesn’t strike me as wrong. Prom dresses in the face of all this need is what’s wrong. ”
Part of her said maybe her new boss was not the best place to start in standing her ground. On the other hand, maybe it was just time for her to learn to stand her ground no matter who it was with.
“This is what’s wrong,” she said. “How on earth can you possibly justify this extravagance? How? How can you march in here, knowing nothing about this organization, and start making these sweeping changes?”
“I’ve made it my business to know about the organization. The changes you’re seeing today are largely cosmetic.” A tiny smile touched his lips. “Sweeping is tomorrow.”
“Don’t mock me,” she said. “You told me I could have two days to convince you what Second Chances really needs.”
“I did. And I’m ready to go.”
“But you’re already spending all our money!”
“Second Chances hasn’t begun to capitalize on the kind of money that’s available to organizations like this. A charity, for all its noble purposes, is still a business. A business has to run efficiently, this kind of business has to make an impression. Every single person whowalks through the front door of this office has the potential to be the person who could donate a million dollars to Second Chances. You have one chance to make a first impression, to capitalize on that opportunity. One. Trust me with this.”
Molly suddenly felt like a wreck, her attempt to be assertive backfiring and leaving her feeling regretful and uncertain. Trust him?
Good grief, was there a job she was worse at than choosing whom to trust? She wished Miss Viv was here to walk her through this minefield she found herself in—that she hated finding herself in! Second Chances was supposed to be the place where she didn’t feel like this: threatened, as if your whole world could be whipped out from under you in the blink of an eye.
Molly, there are going to be some changes.
“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” she said with all the dignity she could muster. She was very aware that it rested on her shoulders to save the essence of Second Chances. If it was left to him the family feeling would be stripped from this place as ruthlessly as Vikings stripped treasures from the monasteries they were sacking!
The consultant, thankfully, was gone from her office, and Molly sat down at her desk, aware she was shaking from her heated encounter with Houston, and determined to try to act as if it was a normal day, to regain her equilibrium. She would open her e-mail first.
Resolutely she tapped her keyboard and her computer screen came up. She was relieved to see an e-mail from Miss Viv.
Please give me direction, she whispered to the computer. Please show me how to handle this, how to save what is most important about us. The love.
Aware she was holding her breath, Molly clicked. No message—a paperclip indicated an attachment.
She clicked on the paperclip and a video opened. It was a grainy picture of
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