This Very Moment Read online

  When Kylee had moved to England to work with yet another charity, she was pleased to receive the announcement of their long-awaited wedding. Nicole’s accompanying letter had exuded complete happiness. It was the last communication Kylee ever received from Nicole, despite four subsequent letters Kylee had sent to her in France. Kylee imagined her friend was so content with her fiancé’s return and their marriage that she hadn’t even thought of writing. Now Kylee knew the truth, and it hurt to think that the lively Nicole was dead.

  No wonder Guillaume had been so angry.

  Kylee glanced at Guillaume—no, it was Bill now—and saw him conversing with the group at her table. He was obviously successful as well as incredibly handsome. If not for her glimpse of the emotions he had shown earlier, she would have never guessed at his former life and the tragedy behind the mask.

  When she finally greeted the last of the guests, Kylee headed for her table, leaving Elaina to officially welcome the crowd and introduce the speakers and singers who would entertain them as they ate. After dessert was served, Kylee would make her presentation of the video and the children.

  “So, Dr. Dubrey, why haven’t you married?” Mrs. Boswell was saying as Kylee arrived at the table. “Audrey has quite the eye for you, you know. Her two kids are practically in high school, so they wouldn’t be much of a bother. The fact that she’s moved to the same condominium complex as you is really quite convenient. I keep telling her to chase you a bit, you know. Men liked to be chased.” Mrs. Boswell batted her mascara-laden eyes, and Kylee’s sympathy went out to the unfortunate Audrey who had trusted Mrs. Boswell with her heart.

  “I’m afraid I’m a born bachelor,” Bill said as he applied crab paste to a wheat cracker. He met Mrs. Boswell’s gaze with a direct stare. “My focus is on my work. I’m much too busy for a relationship.” He took a bite of the cracker and swallowed before adding, “I especially like to work on subjects with your potential, Mrs. Boswell. You’re a perfect candidate for my latest sculpting methods.”

  Mrs. Boswell flushed and brought a hand to her well-endowed bosom. “I may come to see you very soon.” She elbowed her husband, who nodded with a distracted smile. Kylee had the feeling that the heavyset Mrs. Boswell did whatever she pleased, with or without her husband’s approval.

  Kylee slipped into the chair next to Bill as the waiters began to serve the main course. Usually she would have mingled with the guests instead of eating, in order to personally iron out any problems that might arise, but tonight Elaina and Troy would have to handle that. She owed Bill this much. She had brought him here using Nicole’s name, and then, worse, she had inadvertently set him among sharks—or at least one shark. Kylee felt she should give him as much support as she could muster.

  “So how long have you been in California?” Kylee asked.

  He set down his fork and looked at her steadily. “Four years.”

  “He studied in France, you know,” Mrs. Boswell said. “The French are simply the best at maintaining beauty, aren’t they?” The other women at the table nodded. “But it’s certainly good to be able to go to an American,” Mrs. Boswell added with a sniff. “I don’t trust foreigners.”

  Kylee caught an amused glint in Bill’s eyes, and she almost laughed aloud. What would Mrs. Boswell say if she knew Bill had been born in France as Guillaume Debré? Well, Kylee wasn’t about to tell her.

  Everyone was blessedly silent after the waiters delivered the food, but only for a few moments. When the talk began again, it turned to politics and the economy. Kylee only partially listened as she studied Bill from the corner of her eye. She had known him fairly well during the two years she and Nicole had been friends, and his appearance was uncannily the same. There were almost no wrinkles around his eyes, and his hair didn’t have even a trace of gray. Underneath the new polish of poise, he still had something boyish and open about him. Was that what had made Nicole love him so deeply?

  Kylee sighed inwardly and forced herself to think about the speech she would make. The sooner it was over, the sooner she could help the children—and the sooner she could get away from Bill Dubrey and the hurtful memories of Nicole.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Bill was glad when Kylee returned to the table, and that she hadn’t mentioned his past in front of the crème de la société. She didn’t seem to hold his embarrassing outburst against him. He steeled himself to endure the dinner with outward good grace, breathing a silent sigh of relief when the insufferable Mrs. Boswell finally turned her lengthy discourses to the latest plight of the United States president rather than his own bachelorhood.

  Kylee was good company. She talked easily with the guests at the table, though many were twice her age. If he remembered correctly, she would be thirty-two now. A year younger than Nicole would have been had she lived, and five years younger than Bill.

  The first speaker was introduced, a comedian, and Bill enjoyed some of his jokes. Yet he couldn’t relax completely. His eyes kept traveling to the pictures of the children on the near wall. A few of them had second pictures below the first, showing what the child looked like after surgery. But most had no such happy ending—yet.

  When one of the singers began her first piece, Bill gave an almost audible sigh of relief. The haunting melody was much more appropriate for the evening’s cause. Even the football player was properly somber as he gave a speech encouraging generous donations.

  After the dessert, Kylee arose and went to the microphone, her glittery silver dress hugging her slender figure. Bill noticed that her freckled nose was slightly upturned, which gave her appearance a bit of mischievousness.

  As if sensing his thoughts, she smiled, revealing ready dimples on her smooth cheeks. “Thank you so much for being with us tonight. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Kylee Stuart, the fundraising organizer for Children’s Hope Fund. Many of you have been to the fundraising banquets I’ve held for other charities, and I’ve been very pleased with your support. As you know, I research the organizations I work for carefully before involving any of you in their projects, and I’m pleased to say that through all the years of working with deserving charities, this project has touched my heart the most.

  “The children who come to the attention of Children’s Hope are very desperate indeed. These are children who mentally possess all of the attributes of normal children, but whose faces—and sometimes their bodies—have been terribly disfigured by birth defects or by accidents. They come from here in the United States, as well as various countries all over the world. I would like to introduce to you tonight, both in person and by video, some of these special children who have benefited from Children’s Hope, and also many more we hope to help with your donations tonight.” Kylee turned, looking toward the far side of the banquet hall where someone waited to dim the lights. For a moment her profile was outlined by the spotlight and her short blond hair glistened like a halo.

  They were plunged into darkness for several seconds before the video began. At last the first picture appeared on the screen, a little girl against a black background, her shiny white hair and tentative smile overshadowed by a horribly deformed upper lip and right eye. Without sound, she faded away and another child took her place—a boy this time, who had no nose. A third picture was a baby with Apert syndrome, her face misshapen, the skin on her fingers fused together and looking strangely like the foot of a baby pig. Bill knew surgery on her skull would be necessary as she grew to prevent mental retardation, and there would be more operations to separate her fingers and toes.

  On and on the pictures flashed and faded in the still darkness. A child appeared with a sad face, scarred by vicious burns. Bill heard Mrs. Boswell gasp, and though during his training he had seen much worse, he also felt disturbed as a piercing memory of Nicole after the accident flooded his mind. Her skin had been burned so black he couldn’t recognize her. Not even his talent at surgery could make her face flesh again—or make her heart beat. He closed his eyes against the painful assault. He
should never have come here tonight. He should have left the invitation in the trash and let Nicole rest in peace.

  Softly, an ethereal melody began, delicate strains that at first Bill thought he was imagining. Slowly the sound grew louder and the tempo increased, and he opened his eyes. The children’s faces still flashed on the video screen, larger than life, but now their grotesque features faded into more pleasant and hopeful expressions that Children’s Hope had been able to buy for them. The adults at Bill’s table echoed the smiles of the children. Mrs. Boswell and the other ladies dabbed at their eyes with their embroidered handkerchiefs. A soft sob came from somewhere in the audience.

  The music was now full and rich, teeming with hope and happiness. Some of the children in the still pictures were laughing and the music laughed with them. Bill felt those around him relax, and the grip on his own stomach lessened.

  Abruptly the music stopped, as though cut off, and words loomed on the screen: Many Precious Children Still Need Your Help Today. New pictures flashed before them, more appalling than those that had gone before. This time there was no laughter and no pleasant “after” shots. There was only the mournful changing of one sad little face to the next. Everyone in the room appeared to hold their breath.

  After the last picture, the room was once more dark and silent. Then the music began as before, and the lights came on one by one. Bill knew that the show had been purposely designed to evoke the emotions he normally held in check, but even so the effect was powerful. Over the years he had seen many videos created by different charities, but never one that had touched him so profoundly.

  Next, Kylee brought out a group of seven children. Bill recognized at least two from the video, but to his relief, the burned child wasn’t present. Two of the little girls looked normal, or nearly so, and these were introduced first.

  “I want to thank you,” said one, “for being so generous. Because of people like you, I was able to get my face fixed. Thank you so much.” Tears of gratitude caused her soft voice to break.

  Emotion rose in Bill, and the situation only intensified when one of the other children, his face grotesque without a nose, stepped up to the microphone and spoke in faltering English. “Thank you for coming tonight. Thank you for helping me. I can’t say it enough times.” He began to sob quietly, and the other children followed suit, brimming with hope and gratitude.

  “You can make the difference for these children.” Kylee’s voice was soft, filled with a sincere plea. Her arms encircled two of the children, her eyes glistening, and suddenly Bill believed in her. Surely the other patrons would as well. Yet no one in the audience moved or said anything.

  Bill pulled out his checkbook and wrote hurriedly. He stood, holding up the check as he had seen done at other charity dinners. “I’d like to make a donation.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Dubrey.” Kylee’s smile radiated warmth.

  A waiter appeared next to Bill and relieved him of the check, taking it to Kylee. “Ten thousand dollars,” she read aloud. “Thank you so much.”

  Bill froze. He hadn’t expected Kylee to announce the amount of his donation. By offering his check so publicly, he had wanted to inspire other donations and perhaps make up for his previous cruel words. He certainly hadn’t expected her to set his gift up as a target for others to meet or beat. Not because he was ashamed of the amount—ten thousand dollars from any one person was an impressive sum of money—but because having Kylee announce it like an auctioneer somehow cheapened his genuine interest in helping the children.

  Mrs. Boswell elbowed her husband, who jumped to his feet, waving his checkbook. “Well, if the good doctor can be so generous, I think I can as well.” Murmurs of assent rippled through the banquet hall. Bill heard a few people double or triple his donation and saw another round of checks, of amounts unheralded, passed to the hovering waiters. Kylee glowed with the outpouring, but Bill wondered how many people felt forced into donating more than they would have ordinarily because of his contribution. Surely many of them had also bid on the silent auction items, not to mention coming up with the cost of the dinner.

  Swallowing the sour taste in his throat, Bill stalked away from his table, and without a backward glance, he left the building. The cool of the late October night obliterated the flush he felt on his face and calmed his nerves.

  His BMW was where he had left it, a sleek black that reflected the moon and the lights in the parking lot. He gripped the wheel and brought the engine to life. Once again he felt in control. Yet as he drove away, a picture of the burned child came to his mind, inexplicably sparring with an image of Kylee’s blond hair shimmering like an angel’s halo.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kylee was amazed at the flood of generosity, which reached nearly three million dollars before the night ended. From experience, she knew money would continue to trickle in over the next few weeks.

  Elaina stood by Kylee with tears in her eyes, her hands full of checks. “It was your wonderful video and your idea to bring the children here in person that made this night so successful. How can we ever thank you?”

  “You don’t have to.” Kylee had made many videos for the different charities she had represented over the years, but this video was the best. Even the man she had hired to help her edit it had cried when he watched the final version. Having a few of the children appear in person had been icing on the cake. Maybe this time she could really do some good.

  Of course, Bill had sparked off the night with his donation, and she would have to thank him. She scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be seen in the departing crowd.

  Someone grabbed her hand.

  “Oh, Kylee, you didn’t tell me!” Julius said as he intermittently pumped her hand and patted it. “I never dreamed there were children whose faces are so . . . I mean, you see the commercials on TV with the poor children, but these children—what a horrible, horrible shame!” He shook his head several times, causing the white chef hat on his head to wobble. “I will give you the money back for the dinner. No,” he held up his hand, “I won’t hear you say no. I want to do this to help those poor, unfortunate children!”

  Kyle smiled, knowing that she would never have said no. She had learned long ago not to refuse any donation. Julius’s reaction meant that she must have hit on the perfect combination to evoke the support of the public. In all the years she had used him to cater her benefit dinners, he had never donated more than a token amount. He had never, ever gone into his own money for expenses, as he would have to if he returned the entire twenty-four thousand she had given him.

  “Less expenses, of course,” Julius added, as though reading her mind.

  Now that sounds more like Julius. “Of course,” she returned. It was still a generous offer.

  Maybe she had a chance at convincing Elaina and Troy to put part of the video on TV as a commercial for the charity. If it was as touching as everyone said it was, the television coverage would make much more than she had tonight with the cream of her charity lists. Of course she would have to edit it down from the five minutes it was now.

  Kylee collected the checks from Elaina and Troy. She would have to make out receipts and send them with gold embossed thank-you cards before handing the money over to Children’s Hope. But she could do that later.

  She put the checks into her portable safe in the small office where she had talked with Bill. On the floor near the desk a white handkerchief caught her eye. It was still folded, but the top layer was wrinkled as though someone had used it to wipe his eyes.

  Who’s been in here? She glanced around hurriedly. No one was supposed to come in this room. It was the one thing she insisted on with each organization she worked for; the building they rented for the banquets must have a private office for her use.

  She shook out the handkerchief and saw the embroidered initials WD. “Ah, William Dubrey,” she said in relief. Bill must have dropped it when she was checking her makeup. Thinking of him reminded Kylee of Nicole’s horrible deat
h, and tears stung her eyes. She didn’t throw the handkerchief away as she had planned but clutched it tightly to her chest, feeling a deep loneliness.

  After several minutes, the grief faded and Kylee was able to function again. She tucked the handkerchief in her purse, picked up her small safe and other belongings, and left the room.

  Troy and Elaina walked with her to her old Camry. “We wouldn’t want someone to jump you in the dark,” Troy said with a laugh. “All that money could be pretty tempting. You know, a life of luxury on the beaches of Brazil or something.”

  Kylee shivered in the crisp night air. It was cold even for late October, and she wished she had brought her full-length coat instead of the flimsy sequined jacket that matched her dress. “Well, don’t you worry. I’ll get it all to the bank and into your account first thing Monday morning. Then I’ll fax you over the list of expenses. Of course, there’ll be more donations over the next few weeks, and I’ll be sure to make an accounting of those as soon as I’ve collected everything.”

  “I can’t wait to see the final amount.” Elaina’s blue eyes sparkled. “All these years Troy and I’ve been trying so hard to raise the money on our own. We should’ve used a professional fundraising organizer all along. We’re deeply indebted to you.”

  Kylee was accustomed to gratitude, but Elaina’s was more profuse than most. The records of Children’s Hope’s dealings since it began five years ago explained why. Kylee had seen for herself the paper trail of how they had scraped by only enough to help a few children each year. Both Troy and Elaina held other jobs to pay their personal expenses, and it was this last discovery that had been the deciding factor for Kylee in agreeing to represent them.