The main course arrived – Beef Wellington – and was served.
“If we had time,” Mr. Braxton said, “I would just sit here and look at you, because you are so beautiful and it is so beautiful to at last have you here. The loveliness and the majesty of a palm silhouetted against the sunset … surely night must soon fall upon us both, but for now, let me gaze and be happy!”
“But we don't have time,” she said.
“Really, we do – Dorian can run that whole fundraiser without me, but there are just a few people who have to press the flesh with me to make a move, so alas I must go over there at some point and appear. But I don't need any money from you unless you really want to give it. I see us combining our resources on greater projects.”
“Because this one is just child's play – a fundraiser for toys,” she said.
“Literally!” he said, “but it shows how creative you can be with little opportunities! Not that this one is actually so little if you dig into it. There are 30 years of matter in it, with a father-son duo of enemies to the Maximalist cause!”
Mrs. Slocum-Lofton took a sip of sparkling apple cider.
“Oh, I'm sure this is about to be an interesting tale,” she said.
Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay