Page 69 of Buttons

I stare at the empty doorway. Use those connections. As if it’s that simple. But maybe it is. Beatrix let me apply for the grant because she believes in me, and now it’s time that I fully believe in me, too.

I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. Names I haven’t thought about in weeks flash by. There’s a lot of people who smiled at me politely when I was on Julian’s arm but probably wouldn’t recognize me in jeans with cat hair clinging to my sweater. Though, I could stick to those I spoke to at the children’s hospital gala.

I dial the first number. Dave Ramsen, CFO at an investment firm. We chatted about his rescue dog at the gala.

“Dave? It’s Elowen Plaza. Yes, it’s been a while.” I then launch into my pitch, keeping my voice professional. After all, I’m not calling to set up tea with his wife.

“That’s certainly an interesting project,” he says when I finish. His tone is the careful neutrality of someone about to say no. “But our philanthropic budget for this quarter is already allocated. Perhaps next year?”

“Of course,” I say, as if it doesn’t physically pain me. “I understand. Thank you for taking my call.”

Don’t give up.I take a deep breath and dial again.

“Vivian? It’s Elowen Plaza. I’m calling about an amazing program—”

“Oh, Elowen! How are you? We’ve missed seeing you at the club. Perhaps Julian can play against Jonathan next week.”

My teeth clench at the many implications of her simple statement. I am not making a social call for my estranged husband, nor am I socializing at all. This is exactly why I’m putting on my best professional voice.

It’s then that I realize my mistake. Having known my contacts for years, I can’t simply cold call them and expect nothing personal to bleed through. Changing strategies, I say, “I’m great, actually. Leo and Meredith are having the time of their lives volunteering with me. It’s taught them some great responsibilities. Speaking of which, I’m working with the Seattle King Co Animal Shelter, and we’re expanding into a full rehabilitation sanctuary. The Trixie J Foundation is offering a massive grant, but we need corporate sponsorship to secure it.”

“How charitable of you.” Her voice carries a hint of confusion. “But corporate giving decisions go through our foundation committee. You should submit a proposal through the online portal. Takes about six to eight weeks for review.”

The sanctuary can’t wait two months. “Is there any way to expedite it?”

“Rules are rules. Send the kids my best!”

Click.

I make four more calls. Each rejection weighs down on me:

“We’ve already committed to another animal welfare organization.”

“This year we’re focusing on children’s education initiatives.”

“Oh, I would, but gosh darn it, the shelter is out of our zip code.” That doesn’t even make sense! Animals are animals.

“Oh, you were Julian’s secretary, right? The one he married?”

That last one makes me grip my phone so hard I’m surprised the screen doesn’t crack. I was never “just” Julian’s secretary, and I’m certainly not defined by having married him. But in their world—my former world—that’s exactly who I am. The failed corporate wife experiment.

Out of all the people I spoke to at the gala, there has to be someone. I remember the month after, Beatrix said we received a bunch of individual donations. I should focus on those who personally donated; they may be more likely to approve a corporate sponsorship.

I dial Shane Archer, CEO of Archer Capital.

“Elowen!” His voice gravels through the phone. “How the hell are you?”

“I’m good, Shane. Really good, actually.” I find myself smiling despite the string of rejections. “I’m calling about a project I’m working on.”

“The animal shelter, right? You gave quite the passionate speech at the gala. Had my wife researching rescue dogs the next day. Almost ended up with a three-legged German Shepherd named Chance, but by the time we saw him, he’d already been adopted.”

I blink in surprise. “You remember?”

“Hard to forget. First time I’d seen real fire in your eyes in a long time.” He clears his throat. “So what can I do for you?”

I explain the Trixie J grant and the sponsorship requirements.

“I’d be happy to contribute, Elowen,” Shane says when I finish. “Your vision for this project is exactly the kind of community initiative we want to support. How does twenty-five thousand sound for starters?”