“His meeting is running late,” she said, barely glancing up from her computer. “I’ll let you know when you can go in.”
“He’s expecting me,” Gretchen said.
Sarah offered a brittle smile.
Gretchen bit back the hot retort on the tip of her tongue and instead sat down in one of the leather club chairs that flanked a large window overlooking the lush landscaping behind the building. Winthrop land stretched as far as she could see. Dense woods hid her parents’ home and, a little farther away, Evan’s house. Jack and her other brother, Blake, had homes on the other side of the property. There was land there set aside for Gretchen, too, but she would never use it. She wasn’t going to waste money on a monstrous mansion when she could use it to help people instead.
A half hour ticked by before Sarah finally looked up again. Gretchen could’ve sworn her lips actually pulled tight into a disapproving grimace as she peered over the top of her reading glasses. “He’s ready for you now.”
Gretchen stood without a word to the woman and stomped down the hallway. The plush carpet absorbed her footsteps, which only annoyed her more. She at least deserved an angry click-clack, click-clack after being forced to wait.
“Gretchen, come in. Sorry for the wait.” Her brother stood up behind the mahogany desk, his reflection blurry in the shiny surface like a wispy ghost of the men who’d sat there before him. He had the same lean build and imposing height of their father and grandfather, but that was where the similarities ended. He brought none of the light and laughter that had once filled this office when her grandfather was still alive. And her father’s capacity for at least making people feel welcome had apparently skipped a generation when it came to Evan. He exuded cold severity.
“Thanks for seeing me,” Evan said, smoothing his tie. “I know you’re busy.”
“I am. Don’t ever summon me like this again, Evan, and then make me sit outside for a half hour.”
“Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“You said this was important.” Gretchen adopted a businesslike tone, the one she used on judges and government attorneys who thought they could railroad her.
Evan rounded his desk and headed toward a wet bar against the opposite wall. “Thirsty?”
“No.” She sat in one of the chairs facing his and began to shake her foot back and forth with impatience.
“Well, I could use something.” He took his time, picking out ice cubes from a waiting ice bucket and dropping them into a glass. Then he removed the stopper from a crystal decanter and poured a hefty splash of whiskey over the ice.
Evan finally turned around and walked to the front of the desk so he could lean against it and look down at her. She lifted her eyebrows. “Am I supposed to guess what this is about, or . . . ?”
He took a long sip before answering. “Ronald Washburn is going to be leaving the foundation board after the holidays.”
Gretchen schooled her features in something akin to polite disinterest, but her heart had suddenly found the pace of a squirrel crossing the road. “What does that have to do with me?”
“It means there will be an open seat.” He lifted his eyebrow at her as she absorbed the information, because Evan couldn’t just come right out and say what he wanted to say. He had to play mind games with her.
“And you’re offering it to me?”
“It’s not entirely up to me. The board will need to approve your appointment. But if you’re interested—”
“You know I am.” She might not have chosen to join the Winthrop corporation, but the family charitable foundation was another matter. It had always been the one thing she wanted to be part of. But every time a seat had opened up before, she’d been told that it wasn’t the right time. She’d heard every possible excuse.
“There are legalities, of course,” Evan said, “so you’ll need to file some conflict-of-interest paperwork for tax reasons.”
“I know what I have to do.” Her voice came out in a breathless rush as she perched on the edge of her seat.
“Probably better than I do,” Evan said with one of those patronizing nods that he seemed to reserve for her. As if he were still just humoring her and her silly little law career. But she didn’t care this time. He was finally giving her a chance. The foundation oversaw millions of dollars in annual charitable gifts. Maybe she could finally start to use some of those gifts for the causes that mattered to her and people like her clients.