Chapter 30: CHAPTER THIRTY

February 24, 1990: Part II.

“Layne, I’m so glad you’re here! I was afraid tonight was going to be a disaster!”

“It’s good to see you, Ms. Dilinna. How are you?”

“I’ll be better after we raise some more money. This event is always so stressful, and we’re nowhere close to where I hoped we’d be. Would you mind saying a few words like you did last year?”

“Of course, Ms. Dilinna. I’d be happy to.”

“Oh thank you!” she says, holding Layne’s hand with both of hers. “I’m so glad you’re here. What would we do without you?”

“It’s not a problem. I’m happy to help.” He breaks away from her grip and takes my hand. “This is my fiance, Sam Lawrence.”

“Fiance?! My, I never… Well, good for you. Congratulations!” She leans closer. “My! Look at that ring! That’s exquisite!”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Well now you have to marry him, right?” she says with a crooked smile. “I mean, who would want to give that ring back?!”

“I’d definitely want to get married for the ring,” I quip, “but if I receive love, companionship, and a lifelong partner, I guess I’ll deal with that too.”

Layne’s amused, but Ms. Dilinna is not. “Yes, well, thank you again, Layne. I’ll see you up there.”

“Yes, ma’am, after the live auction.”

She pivots and speed walks toward her next victim.

“I love you so much,” he says, kissing my cheek.

“You’re going to say a few words?”

“Like I have every year for the last four years, and every year, she approaches me like this year I’ll opt against it.” He guides me toward the auction tables. “Let’s see how well I did with my bidding, and then we’ll eat.”

We scan the tables. “Looks like you didn’t win anything,” I say.

“Thank goodness.”

“What would you have done if you had won some of these things?”

He shrugs. “For most of them, I would have just donated them back.” He takes my hand. “Let’s eat.”

He leads me to the table, and two other couples are already seated. Everyone is at least fifteen years older than us.

Layne pulls back my chair for me, then sits. “Sam, let me introduce you to Frank and Candice. They have two children at Stanford. And this is Kenneth and Sandra. Their oldest just graduated medical school.”

“You make us sound so old!” Sandra says.

Layne smiles at her. “Apologies.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “This is Sam, my fiance.”

“Fiance?!”Candice asks. “Congratulations, Layne.”

“Yes. Cheers, Layne,” Kenneth says, holding his glass of wine.

“Let’s see the ring,” Frank says. “I bet Layne chose a great one.”

“Actually, Sam picked it out,” Layne says, when I extend my arm for everyone to look at my hand.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Sandra says. “Just gorgeous.”

Everyone compliments until I pull my hand back. “So, Sandra, how does it feel to have a child who graduated medical school?”

And that’s all I have to say. These five people have known each other so long as that conversation is easy and mostly focused on their families. I’m able to just take a break from conversation and focus on Layne gently stroking my thigh–and all the butterflies he creates.

***

Following dinner, the hospital director, board president, and Ms. Dilinna all make speeches that are far too long.

A live auction follows the speeches, and Layne again bids on items he doesn’t want. He’s ultimately outbid on every item.

“Just wasn’t your year,” Kenneth says.

“Maybe next time,” Layne says, winking at me.

Ms. Dilinna returns to the stage and begins a second speech. “We’ve raised a lot of money tonight, but before we return to the dance floor or head home, there’s one more person who would like to speak. Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Layne DuMar.”

Despite Layne having a PhD, I rarely hear anyone call him “doctor”. It’s usually “professor” or simply “Layne”.

Layne kisses my cheek before sprinting to the stage. “Good evening, everyone. I’ve attended this event every year, and this is my fifth year giving a speech. For those who always attend, I like to mix it up a bit, and I think I found a way to do that this year. Ready?”

The rapt crowd mumbles, and again, I’m struck by how beloved my man is.

“Last June, I proposed to my fiance, Sam.”

“Congratulations!” someone class from the crowd, and scattered laughter and applause fill the space.

He points toward me. “She’s wearing an exquisite dress and jewelry, and people have provided endless compliments on her sapphire and diamond engagement ring.”

My ears burn. I’m taken aback by the attention of guests craning their necks to see me. Still, I might as well help, so I hold my hand beside my face, giving people a better look.

“I love Sam very much,” Layne continues, “and I’m happy that she and I can afford items like that.”

This makes it sound like I contribute just as much financially, which I suppose is kind of him, even if it’s a complete lie.

“We had a lot of success with the auctions tonight.” He simpers. “I mean, I personally didn’t, but a lot of you had success with the auctions tonight.”

Damn, he’s good.

“But I think,” he says, “we find it easier to donate when we receive something tangible in exchange. When we chose the ring, I paid a certain amount of money, and I got a ring. I wouldn’t have handed my money to the jeweler and left the store.

“I worry that capitalism has made even the most philanthropic individuals want something in exchange for their donations. They want to prove their philanthropy. But the truth is that the ‘proof’ of our donations is the kids and families who are helped by this worthy cause, right? It’s not a piece of paper, vacation, or antique vase. It’s parents taking their child home after three weeks in the NICU.”

Damn, Layne.

“The first year, I stood up here, I pledged fifty thousand dollars, and each year I’ve increased it. I’m going to do something better tonight. I’m going to donate the cost of my tux and Sam’s ensemble and encourage you each to do the same. And then, I’m going to match every donation that comes in between now and the end of the night. Not every donation to a certain amount. No. Every donation.

“You may not get an item to take home with you for that donation, but you can feel good that your money was doubled, and you helped sick children.” He smiles and looks around the room. “Thank you.”

He jogs off the stage as he receives a standing ovation. When he returns to the table, he sheepishly says, “Sorry.”

“Worth it,” I say, “but next time, feel free to give me a heads-up.”

“You bet,” he says, kissing my cheek.

“Is the event over?” I ask.

“There’s still more dancing, but if you want to go, we can.”

“Are you kidding? After that, I want to watch people.”

He laughs, offers me his hand, and leads me back to the dance floor. As we sway and twirl, I watch people take folded checks to the hospital director, board president, and Ms. Dilinna.

It’s wild.

“How much does my ensemble cost, Layne?”

“More than a Happy Meal, less than a jet.”

“I’m so glad I’m not wearing a jet.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

He spins me, and I look into his eyes. “You really don’t care about money, do you?”

“Not even a little.”

“Well, as a two zillionaire, if someone writes a check for a zillion dollars, that’ll take half your wealth.”

“If I’m a two zillionaire, I have a zillion to spare, don’t I?”

Screw what other people think of us.

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, pausing the dance. He places his hand on the back of my neck, and the world stops spinning.

The kiss isn’t so passionate that we’re asked to leave, but it’s certainly not cautious or hesitant. The more it deepens, the more I want.

Finally, I pull away and whisper, “Take me home, Layne.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I return to the table for my clutch, and Layne jogs outside to let Barney know we’ll need the car. Most of the event has cleared, and when Layne returns, he shakes the hand of the hospital director and board president.

Ms. Dilinna stares at me, and I can’t tell if she disapproves of our PDA, still upset at my joke, or dislikes me for some other reason. Maybe a combination.

Layne gives Barney another hundred dollars, and we speed home.

And during our ride, I make a potentially life-altering decision.