didn’t say scrawny. I said skinny. You’re still all muscle.”
Sam had to swallow back a groan. The thought of Mindy looking at him that closely was a definite turn-on. One he knew he shouldn’t be relishing too much. “I’m not sure friends should be making comments about each other’s bodies.”
“It was just an observation,” Mindy retorted.
“Fair enough. For the record, you looked perfect today.” Every last inch.
“You’re just sucking up to me because I’m taking you to the wedding of the year.”
Not really. “You’ve always seen right through me, Mindy Eden. I can’t get a single thing past you, can I?”
Mindy laughed again, a musical sound that made Sam feel a little lighter. “Nope. So you’d better stay on your toes. I’ll call you next week so we can make a plan for the rehearsal on Friday.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Sam and Mindy said their goodbyes, but as soon as he hung up, his office line buzzed again. “Mr. Blackwell? There’s a Ms. Parson on the phone. She won’t tell me who she’s with or what she’s calling about, but she’s very insistent that she needs to speak with you.”
Sam was more than a little annoyed by this. Just when he’d been having fun talking to Mindy, he had to be smacked in the face with a less-than-pleasant call. “Put her through.”
“Mr. Blackwell?” Ms. Parson asked.
“I thought I asked you to never call me at the office.”
“You did, and I’m sorry, but I was unable to reach you on your cell phone.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. Long story.”
“Well, I’m very sorry to bother you during the day. I was as discreet as I could be when I called.” Ms. Parson had always kept Sam’s business with her a secret, at his request.
“It’s fine. What can I do for you?”
“I know your involvement with our organization has always been anonymous, but there’s a potential problem with the couple who is underwriting and hosting this year’s big event. Do you know who and what I’m talking about?”
Sam had heard inklings of this. “The senator and her husband. Something about a sex scandal?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so. Obviously, if that continues to play out the way it is in the tabloids, we’re going to have to ask them to step aside. Which means we will need a new host for the event. You’d be the perfect person to do it. You’ve been such a big contributor for so long.”
Sam drew in a deep breath. He’d attended this event many times and was well aware of what hosting it involved—getting up in front of a crowd of five hundred people and asking them to open their wallets, usually by telling a story that caused people to reach for a tissue. “That would require me to step into the spotlight. I prefer to keep my personal life, especially my past, out of the public eye.”
“I know that, Mr. Blackwell. And we’ve always respected your wishes. Always. But perhaps it’s time to be a bit more public about your involvement. People might benefit from hearing your story, especially since your mother was so young when she passed away.”
“I’ll think about it. No promises.” Sam hung up, swallowed hard and looked out the window. He didn’t like to think about this. It was too painful. He preferred to write a sizable check every year, try very hard to forget the difficult parts of his past and to remember happier times. Those days were so far gone, it was sometimes hard to believe they’d ever existed. His sister, Isabel, was the only person on the planet still around to remind him that any of it had ever been real.
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