Beatrice came into the living room, wiping her hands on an apron and beaming. “There’s going to be plenty of food,” she said. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“No, thank you,” Ali said. “We told people we’d be back home for dinner. We’re having company.”
That’s a white lie, Ali thought. Leland is only expecting us, and he’s grilling lamb chops for two. “Let’s get the official business out of the way,” she added, holding out a file folder.
“Your written report?” Beatrice asked.
Ali nodded.
“Excellent,” Beatrice said. “The check is written and waiting.”
She bustled over to a nearby table and retrieved a personal check. It was made out to the Amelia Dougherty Scholarship Fund in the amount of ten thousand dollars.
Ali looked at it and attempted to hand it back. “Thank you, but this is far too generous.”
“No, it’s not,” Beatrice Hart said with a smile. “You gave me back my daughter. You also gave Lynn back her shot at happiness. As far as I can see, I’m still in your debt, and I’ll probably be making another contribution next year.”
“Thank you, then,” Ali said. “I thank you, and lots of deserving students will be thanking you as well.”
Ali and B. left soon after that. “Yes,” B. said as he buckled up and put his new Audi R8 4.2 in gear. “Dave Holman got it right the other night.”
“Dave got what right?”
“When he said you’re not bad for a girl.”
Ali reached over and gave B. a playful whack on the shoulder. “And you’re not bad for a boy,” she said. “So I guess that makes us even.”