Page 71 of Buttons

“Please, sit,” he says, indicating the chairs arranged around a small table in the corner, rather than the visitor’s chair across from his desk. Hmm. I don’t remember this being here. Good for him. He may not realize it, but this choice feels deliberate. It gives a feeling of equality, rather than a play on power dynamics.

“You look well,” he says, sitting across from me. His eyes meet mine directly.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” I ask, gesturing at the new table and wall photos. “I half-expect to find a corporate handbook on your desk titled ‘How to Appear Human’.”

“I didn’t find a handbook, but I did miss my family.” He looks at the photo of Meredith and Leo, his raw expression softening.

“The shelter seems to be going well,” he continues when I don’t immediately respond.

His genuine interest finally breaks through my confusion. Ready to discuss the real purpose of my visit, I say, “Actually, that’s why I’m here. The shelter has an opportunity that I think might interest Plaza Investments.”

Julian’s posture shifts subtly, professional focus replacing the casual conversation. “I’m listening,” he says, and I believe he actually is.

I reach into my bucket bag at my feet and pull up the presentation I’ve prepared onto the tablet inside. I included blueprints, budgets, and timelines all in a simple PowerPoint. Once the presentation loads, I slide the tablet across to him. “The Trixie J Foundation is offering a grant of $250,000, but it requires corporate sponsorships to activate the funds.”

Julian studies the screen with ‌focused attention. He swipes through the slides methodically, occasionally zooming in on particular details.

“Your operational budget seems lean,” he comments after several minutes. “Are you confident it’s sustainable with these staffing projections?”

I appreciate his question because it’s genuine and assumes I’ve done my homework and have reasons for my choices. Past Julian would have simply said, “This is wrong,” and expected me to figure out his concerns.

“We’re leveraging a strong volunteer program,” I explain, leaning forward to point out the relevant section. “Beatrix has connections with a veterinary school. Their students need practical hours with animals. We provide the experience; they provide free labor. Plus, a large percentage of volunteers at SKCAS are willing to volunteer at Buttons Sanctuary Academy, too.”

“Academy?” he asks.

“We’re playing up the cuteness factor. Obviously, we’re not teaching the cats table manners or arithmetic, but the name is designed to grab donors’ attention.”

Julian nods, impressed. “Smart. What about ongoing maintenance costs? Old buildings like that shelter can become money pits.”

“We’ve factored in graduated increases,” I say, pulling up the five-year projection. “And we’re structuring the renovation to qualify for energy efficiency grants to help, in addition to Connor’s connections.”

“Connor is SKCAS’s maintenance worker, right?”

He continues asking specific questions. Questions that treat me not as his former secretary who’s playing at being a businesswoman, but as a competent peer professional presenting a solid plan. Then he surprises me by asking, “Have you considered larger corporate partnerships beyond the initial sponsorship? Companies like Petco might be interested in naming rights for specific areas of the sanctuary.”

I stare at him, momentarily speechless. He’s strategizing with me, not for me.

“I have a list of potential corporate partners for phase two,” I admit. “But I was focused on securing the founding sponsorship first.”

“Smart priority setting,” Julian says. “One thing at a time.” He sets down the tablet and looks at me directly. “What sponsorship level are you looking for from Plaza Investments?”

“The minimum requirement is a hundred thousand,” I say carefully. “I’ve secured commitments for sixty thousand from other sources, but without a primary corporate sponsor, the Trixie J funds remain out of reach.”

“Very well. Plaza Investmentswill commit one hundred and fifty thousand,” he says finally. “With naming rights for the main rehabilitation center and a board position for a company representative. Not myself,” he adds quickly, “but someone from our community outreach division who can provide genuine value to your organization.”

The amount stuns me. This commitment exceeds the requirement by fifty thousand dollars.

“That’s extremely generous,” I say when I find my voice. “But…” I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but here we go. “Julian, I’m only requesting the remaining amount from Plaza Investments. The last thing I want is anyone thinking I didn’t secure the funds through my business experiences.” It’s one thing for Plaza Investments to donate an amount similar to all the rest, and another for it to seem like without my husband’s help, I couldn’t have made it on my own.

“You don’t think turning down money is…?”

I know what he wants to say, so I finish for him, “Stupid? Perhaps, but I’d much rather secure the initial funds, and then,whenI meet or exceed my projections, secure more. There are a million charities out there, so many that are deserving. Letme work and prove that I’m competent and can grow and help countless cats.”

“It’s a sound business decision. The sanctuary aligns with our updated corporate social responsibility goals. The community impact metrics are solid. The management team”—he nods toward me—“is clearly competent. I’d make the same decision regardless of our personal connection, but I understand your worries and will respect them.”

“Thank you. The sanctuary will be transformative for the community.”

“I believe it will,” he agrees. “Send over the formal sponsorship agreement, and I’ll have legal review it and commit to the forty thousand this week.”