They wandered through the gardens for a few minutes, stopping every now and then to look at some exotic plant or another. The more they walked, the more relaxed she seemed. She kept hold of his arm, even drawing closer to him a few times. A faint hope that she’d follow through with her interest in him blossomed in his chest.
“So, you said you wanted to get some ideas from me. For what?” she asked.
A small bench was set back under some trees, and he drew her over so they could sit in the shade.
“I run my family’s charity. It does well, but I think it could do much better.”
“What kind of charity?”
“Well, that’s part of the problem. Right now, it’s kind of a general Help-the-Poor-Children-type charity. But we don’t do much with it. Every year we hold a big fundraiser, and we usually have a great turn out and make decent money, but then the money gets spread out to so many different organizations I’m not sure how much good it’s doing. I feel we need to focus it more. Make it bigger, better. Turn it into a foundation that can really do some good.”
“That sounds amazing. What do your parents think?”
Elliot scowled, his frustration with his family dampening his good mood. “They think things are fine as they are. The charity is making money for good causes, and they don’t really have to think about it much. That’s how they like it.”
“Surely they can see how much better it would do if it was expanded. Even if they are only doing it to look good, having a successful charity be even more successful would be nothing but good press for them.”
Elliot laughed. “I’ve never put it to them like that. I’ll have to lead with that argument next time. The main problem is getting them to listen. They don’t see the need to change anything, so they don’t even want to listen to my ideas. And to be honest, I haven’t always been as involved as I should be, so throwing ideas out at them with no real plan won’t work. Now, if it was Lilah with the ideas, this wouldn’t be an issue at all.”
“Lilah is your older sister, right?”
Elliot nodded. “She’s always been the golden child. Followed in Dad’s medical footsteps. Cherice is more like me. Fitting, I guess, since we’re twins. Mom and Dad have never really approved of her and her disadvantaged women’s boutique. But she didn’t care. Actually, I think your brother helped a lot there.”
“How?” Lena asked.
“Cherice was already kind of the black sheep, moving off to North Carolina, ignoring our parents’ wishes when it came to her job. But she didn’t really jump off the deep end and commit to what she wanted to do with her shop and everything until she met Oz.”
Lena nodded thoughtfully, her face softening at the mention of her brother. Elliot stared at her, wondering what it was about the Oserkowskis that seemed to inspire the Debussheres. There must be something there because his sister had completely upended her life and was about to march up the aisle to marry a mechanic turned aspiring journalist who had no prestigious ties anywhere in his family tree. And Elliot… He’d been thinking of making some major changes, yes, but Lena seemed to be lighting the fire under him to actually do it.
Lena’s forehead crinkled in thought. “Okay. So, why don’t you approach this differently?”
“What do you mean?”
“Instead of coming to them as their son with an idea for the family charity, approach them as the president of a charitable foundation, complete with a fully developed business plan or presentation. Make an appointment to see them with their assistants, if you need to. Show them you are serious, and they might take you a little more seriously.”
Wow. She didn’t pull any punches. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was in danger of blushing.
“I know I’m not really the kind of guy that most people take seriously. I guess I shouldn’t expect my parents to be any different.”
Lena’s eyes flared wide, and she shook her head, putting her hand onto his knee. “No, that’s not what I meant at all.”
Elliot froze, afraid if he made any sudden movements she’d remove her hand. He was beyond thankful that his resort-wear tastes leaned heavily on the beach bum look. Her hand rested on the bare skin of his knee, not an area he’d ever thought of as erogenous, but there now seemed to be a direct line of fire from his kneecap straight to his groin. If she gripped or rubbed his knee one more time, he would need to find more comfortable accommodations for his favorite body part.
She removed her hand, and he wasn’t sure whether to sigh in relief or beg her to put it back.