Page 23 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
I chuckle. “You’re too kind, Diana.”
She releases me, then steps over to the coffee machine sitting right next to the reception desk and pours me a cup. “Not even. Just ask my husband and my daughters.”
I let out a laugh and thank her for the coffee. I take a sip and ask her about her kids.
“Good lord, this teenage phase. I thought I was ready. I wasn’t. Moody and mouthy, that’s all my kids are at this stage.” She rolls her eyes, which looks so unnatural on her. She always looks like she’s on the verge of a smile—it’s one of the things I love about her.
“At least ten times a day I have to stop and remind myself of how adorable and precious and sweet they were as babies,” she says. “That’s the only way I can keep from losing it on them when they pull attitude with me.”
Her black-brown curls bounce as she shakes her head, a few strands of silver shining through.
“As a former angsty teenager, I apologize on behalf of your daughters. They’ll grow out of it and appreciate how patient and loving you were with them.”
“Oh, I know.” She waves a hand, the gold bangles on her wrist lightly clanking. “I was like that too at that age. This is payback for what a little witch I was to my mom and dad.”
I chuckle. “Still covering the front desk on Lupe’s days off, I see?”
She nods. “I’d love to hire an additional person, but that’s just not in the budget, unfortunately.”
I nod my understanding as she leads me to one of the offices in the back, where I’ll be helping clients fill out job and apartment applications today. As a former social worker, helping others is Diana’s passion. Her dad is from El Salvador, and starting this nonprofit to help other immigrants establish themselves in the US is something she’s always dreamed of doing. But I’ve seen just how much of a struggle it is to keep Glad You’re Here running over the years. They receive grants and other government money, but a good chunk of what keeps them operating are donations. When I was working at my old job, I donated a percentage of my income, but now that I’m taking time off, I have to temporarily pause on giving money.
Even thinking about it now sends a wave of guilt through me. That’s part of the reason I want to volunteer more now—if I can’t give monetarily, I want to give in some other way, and I figured my time was the next most valuable thing I can offer.
“Are donations down again?” I ask reluctantly.
She nods. “Times are tough for people. It seems like every year, the cost of living goes up and up. Most people’s incomes can’t sustain that, so donating to charity isn’t something a lot of people can do. I get it. I really do. It just makes things hard for us.”
As I follow her into a small room in the back and she gets me set up on a laptop, I think of the money Lewis promised to donate and know I made the right ultimatum. I wish I could tell Diana that relief is on the way, in the form of one million dollars, but I have to wait until my bargain with Lewis has been fulfilled.
Once I’m set up on the computer, Diana tells me that the first person I’m helping is due to arrive in ten minutes.
After that, it’s a busy few hours of helping people fill out forms online, printing documents, and answering questions. I’m finishing up with someone when I hear Diana’s voice boom from down the hall.
“Oh my god!”
I pop up out of my chair. “Just one sec,” I say to the person sitting next to me.
When I walk out to reception, Diana is standing up, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide as saucers as she looks at the screen of her computer.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I rush over to her.
A beat later, her hands fall to her sides and she beams at me. “We just got a one-million-dollar donation! From an anonymous donor! Can you believe it?”
She jumps up and down while squealing. I run over to hug her, stunned. Holy shit. It was like Lewis read my mind.
Diana’s speaking so quickly in her shock and excitement that I can barely understand her. Something about updating some of the computers and hiring another employee and using a chunk of the money to help with things like apartment security deposits, down payments for cars, school supplies, and so much more to benefit the clients of the organization.
When she pauses, I notice her eyes are teary.
“Oh, Diana.” I grab her hands in mine, my own eyes burning with tears at just how overcome with joy she is.
“I just... I can’t believe it. We needed this so bad. And it actually happened.”
“Sometimes stuff works out when you need it to.” I fight a wince at how ridiculously cheesy and generic that sounds.
“I wish I knew who the donor was so I could thank them,” she says. “They’re helping us so much.”
I give her hands a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure they have their reasons for wanting to stay private.”
