Her Man Friday(81)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

"Well, it was quite a lot of millions," Lily reminded him. "Considerably more than the average corporate philanthropy."

"So?" Leo asked, thinking it a very good, if very succinct, question.

Kimball was the one to supply the explanation this time. "So I didn’t want to look better, that’s why. I didn’t want it getting out that I was a bleeding heart philanthropist. Especially since it’s Lily, and not me, who’s the bleeding heart philanthropist here."

Okay, so as explanations went, that one left a lot to be desired, Leo thought. "Why wouldn’t you want to be viewed as a blee… as a philanthropist?" he asked.

Kimball exhaled a long, impatient breath, then, as if that hadn’t been enough to dispel his restlessness, he rose and paced to the fireplace, setting his empty glass on the mantle. For a moment, he only stared into the dance of flame that leapt and crackled and shifted from gold to orange, from blue to red.

And then, without warning, he spun around, his eyes livid with discontent. "I absolutely detest poverty and anything even remotely associated with it," he fairly spat at Leo.

"Well, gee, color me idealistic," Leo said, struggling to mask his surprise at the other man’s vehemence. "But I don’t think you’re alone in that view."

"No, you don’t understand," the billionaire said. "I abhor it. I find it revolting. It sickens me."

"Again," Leo muttered, still mystified, "that’s not unusual, Kimball, trust me. A lot of people feel that way."

"Yes, but few of them lived it the way I did."

"Still…"

"Still," Kimball interrupted him, "you can’t possibly appreciate what it means to be needy unless you have truly experienced it first hand. Needy," he repeated in a voice that punctuated his revulsion. "It’s such a nice little word, isn’t it? Needy. It’s almost cute. I won’t subject you to a gratuitous, maudlin description of what my life was like growing up. Just know that all the Mother Teresas and op-ed pieces in the world could never do justice to what poverty really is. And once I rose above it, I never wanted to be associated with it—tainted by it—again. Not even to help alleviate it. I don’t want to go back there, Friday. Ever. I don’t want to look at it, I don’t want to hear about it, I don’t want to know it exists. I paid my dues in the poverty department. Trust me on that. I am done with it."

The venom in his words was almost scorching, Leo thought. He had no idea how to reply. His family had never been rich by any stretch of the imagination, but they’d never really been poor, either. So since he had nothing to offer by way of understanding, Leo only remained silent and waited for the billionaire to answer the question he’d asked.

"When Lily and I launched Kimball Technologies, we struck a bargain. Actually, Lily gave me an ultimatum. She demanded that a specific percentage of our earnings each year go to charitable organizations and to people who needed help. Frankly, I wanted no part of that. But because I needed Lily, I agreed to her demand, so long as no one—no one—ever found out where the money was coming from. Even that first year, when we ran the business from our apartment and were barely able to turn a profit, she took the allotted percentage and gave it to the SPCA.

"It was easy then for her to hide the origins of the money she extracted, because it was just the two of us. Even when we added a few more people to the fold, there was never any indication to alert anyone to the fact that Lily had skimmed money from anywhere. But for the last several years, I know it’s been difficult for her. Still, because she’d promised she would always keep me out of it, she managed it."

He smiled then, a genuine smile of warmth and good humor, and the fury that had been present a moment ago all but faded. And when he turned his attention to Lily, even that little bit of leftover anger disappeared completely. "We had no idea then that we would be able to take the company as far as we did," he said softly. "We hoped for it, certainly, but I don’t think either of us ever even imagined we would go as far as we’ve gone. Had we given more thought to it, we probably wouldn’t have organized things the way we did, and I probably wouldn’t have demanded the secrecy that I demanded. But we were young and full of dreams. I suppose I should be grateful we’ve gone as long as we have without being found out. We’ve had a good run, but still… It’s not going to be the same now."

"Why not?" Leo asked.

"Because darling Lily, in her infinite wisdom, has arrived at the conclusion that the business will suffer with her taking the helm in public, not just because she happens to be a woman, but because she is so prone to giving away the profits. I’ve tried to talk her out of abdicating, but she won’t listen to me."

"The board of directors, Schuyler," she said softly. "They’d never go for having your social secretary take charge, and they’d certainly never allow for the… distribution of funds… that I prefer. And with the bickering that would ensue, the company would suffer significantly and, probably, irrevocably."

Leo had to concede that she could very well be right. In spite of that, and although he had no idea what possessed him to do it, he heard himself say, "Maybe if you let me talk to the board of directors first?"

Lily and Kimball both turned their attention fully upon him, their faces bearing identical expressions of, well… befuddlement. Leo heartened considerably at the realization that he wasn’t alone. Then he remembered that he had Lily. Darling Lily. And he would never be alone again.

At least, he was pretty sure he had Lily. Probably, he had her, anyway. He was sure she’d forgive him for being such a sneaky little fink. Eventually. She’d come around… once he’d groveled and begged and prostrated himself before her and promised to do anything—anything—to make up for being such a jerk. Of course, that was assuming she still wanted him, too, an assumption that was, at this point, more than a little iffy.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well," he began, focusing on his connection to the board of directors for now, instead of his tenuous position with Lily. He tried not to be too smug as he continued, "I’ve sort of established a rapport with the guys on the board, and—"

"A rapport?" she repeated. "With the board of directors? Oh, now there’s a dubious distinction if ever there was one."

"Needless to say," Leo continued, ignoring the comment, "I think I… you know… bonded with a couple of the guys, and—"

"Oh, my," Lily interrupted him again. "You bonded? Truly? This just keeps getting better and better."