Finding Perfect
Page 7
“I heard that no one was hurt,” Gladys said. The older woman had served as the city manager for several years and was currently acting as treasurer.
“That’s true. We had a few minor injuries, but everyone was treated on the scene and released.” Marsha looked at them, her blue eyes dark with concern. “We’re still assessing the damage, but we’re talking millions of dollars. We do have insurance and that will help, but it won’t cover everything.”
“You mean the deductible?” one of the council members asked.
“There’s that, which is sizable enough. But there are other considerations. Books, lesson plans, computers, supplies. As I said, some will be covered, but not everything. The state will offer assistance, but that takes time. Which leads me into the next topic. Where to put all those children? I refuse to let this fire disrupt their education. Nancy?”
Nancy East, a bright, plump woman in her late thirties, opened a notebook in front of her.
“I agree with Marsha—keeping the children in school is our first priority. We considered splitting them up among the other three elementary schools, but there simply isn’t enough room. Even with portable classrooms, the infrastructure can’t support that many additions. There isn’t enough space in the cafeteria or on the playground. There aren’t enough bathrooms.”
Some of the tension in her face eased. “Fortunately, we have a solution. Raoul Moreno has offered his camp. I toured the facility yesterday, and it’s going to work beautifully for us.”
Pia leaned back in her chair. The camp was an obvious choice, she thought. It was big and had plenty of buildings. It was closed in the winter, so they wouldn’t be displacing anyone.
“There are some logistics for our classes,” Nancy continued. “Our maintenance staff is up there right now, figuring out the best configurations. There is a main building where we’ll have assemblies and where the cafeteria will be. Calls have gone out to schools all around the state for extra supplies, including desks, blackboards, dry-erase boards, buses. We’re making an appeal to the commercial suppliers. As Marsha mentioned, the state will be offering some assistance.”
She turned to Pia. “I need your help, Pia.”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“I want to mount a supply drive for this Saturday. We’ll hold it in the park. We need everything from pencils to toilet paper. Our goal is to have the children back in school by Monday.”
Pia remained calm on the outside, but inside there was a very loud shrieky voice. “It’s Wednesday.”
“I know. That’s the challenge. Can you pull something together by Saturday?”
The clear answer was no, but Pia swallowed that. She had a phone tree that rivaled anything created by the government and access to an impressive list of volunteers.
“I can get the word out tonight,” she said. “Beg mention in tomorrow’s paper, along with Friday’s. Do media Friday and get it set up by, say, nine Saturday morning.” Even thinking about it was enough to make her woozy. “I need a list of what you need.”
Nancy had come prepared. She passed a folder to Pia. “If people would rather give money, we won’t say no.”
“Who would?”
Pia flipped open the folder and stared at the neatly typed sheets. The list was detailed and, as Nancy had promised, listed every possible need, from chalk to china. Well, not china, exactly, but dishes for the camp.
“I thought the camp already had a working kitchen,” she said. “Why would they need plates, glasses and utensils?”
“End Zone for Kids housed less than a hundred campers, even with the day campers,” Marsha told her. “We’re sending up close to three hundred.”
“That’s a lot of napkins,” Charity murmured. “I’ll stay after the meeting and you can tell me what I can do to help.”
“Thanks.”
It wasn’t the size of the project that worried Pia, but the speed. She would need a full-page ad in the local paper. Colleen, her contact at the Fool’s Gold Daily Republic, wasn’t going to be happy.
“I need to make a call,” she said, then excused herself.
Once she was in the hall, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
“Hi, it’s Pia,” she said.
Colleen was a woman of a certain age—only no one knew exactly what age that was. She was a hard-drinking, chain-smoking newspaper woman who didn’t believe in chitchat and had never met an adjective she didn’t want eliminated.
“What do you want?” Colleen snapped.
Pia sucked in a breath. Talking fast was essential. “A full page tomorrow and Friday. Saturday we’re going to be collecting donations for the school that burned down. For a new school and supplies.”
Damn. Talking to Colleen always made her nervous. The worst part was the other woman didn’t have to say anything to get Pia feeling frantic.
“The kids will be going up to the camp while the burned-out school is repaired. They’ll need everything from books to pencils to toilet paper. I have a list. Money donations are fine, too.”
“Of course they are. Anything else? How about a kidney? I was told I have two. You want I should cut that out and send it along?”
Pia leaned against the wall. “It’s for the children.”
“I’m not competing in any beauty pageant. I don’t have to give a fig about kids or world peace.”
There was a long pause. Pia heard the other woman exhaling smoke.
“Get me the material in fifteen minutes and I’ll do it. Otherwise, forget it.”
“Thanks, Colleen,” Pia said, already running for the fax machine on the second floor.
She made the deadline with eighteen seconds to spare. When the copy and the list of needed supplies had gone through the fax machine, Pia returned to the meeting only to find out they hadn’t actually been as busy as she had.
“Charity, is there any chance you’ve seen Raoul’s butt?” Gladys asked hopefully. “Could you get a comparison?”
Pia sank into her seat. “Yes, Charity. You should ask Raoul for a private showing, and I’d like to be in the room when you do.”
Charity rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen his butt, I’m not going to ask to see it. As far as I’m concerned, Josh is perfection, and that can’t be improved upon.”
“You’re his wife,” Gladys grumbled. “You have to say that.”
Marsha rose from her chair. “Debating which of our two celebrity athletes is more attractive can be a thrilling way to pass an hour. However, we still have things to discuss. Pia, you got the ad?”
“Yes. Colleen will run the time, the list and all the contact information tomorrow and Friday. I’ll get the phone tree up and running tonight. We’ll set up tables for those who want to host a bake sale or whatever. The usual stuff.”
Marsha passed her a paper. “Here are the local businesses that will be providing drinks and snacks. I told them not to deliver before eight on Saturday.” She glanced around the table. “I would be grateful if those of you with a close and personal relationship with God spoke to Him about the weather. Warm and sunny on Saturday would be best.”
Gladys looked shocked at the request, but everyone else laughed.
Marsha sat back in her seat. “There’s one other item I need to discuss. I was hoping it wouldn’t be an issue, but no such luck. I realize that when compared with the unexpected fire that destroyed the school, this will seem small and unimportant. However, it is going to impact our town and we have to be prepared.”
Pia glanced at Charity, who shrugged. Apparently Marsha hadn’t talked to her granddaughter about the mystery element.
“A few of you may remember Tiffany Hatcher,” Marsha said. “She was a graduate student who came to Fool’s Gold in the spring. Her field of study is human geography. As in why people settle where they do, why they move, etc.”
Pia vaguely remembered a petite, pretty young woman who had been very interested in Josh. As he’d only had eyes for Charity, nothing had come of her flirting.
“I tried to delicately discourage her from writing about the town, but I wasn’t successful,” Marsha continued. “Her thesis is being published. She called to let me know there is a chapter on Fool’s Gold. Specifically about the ongoing shortage of men. She has sent out excerpts of the chapter to many media outlets and there has been, as she so happily put it, interest.”
“No,” Chief Barns said forcefully. “I’m not going to have a bunch of media types mucking up my town and parking where they’re not supposed to. Isn’t there enough real news in the world without them paying attention to us?”
Pia’s thoughts exactly. But she had a bad feeling that a town with a man shortage would be exactly the right kind of story to capture a lot of attention.
“I don’t suppose telling the media we don’t want them here will help,” Charity said.
“If only,” Marsha told her. “I’m afraid in the next few weeks we’re going to have to deal with the problem. And not just the media, either.”
Pia stared at her boss. The mayor nodded slowly.
“When word gets out, we’ll be flooded with men looking for a town full of lonely women.”
“That could be fun,” Gladys said, looking intrigued. “A few of you need a good marrying.”
Pia suspected Gladys meant her, so she was careful to stay quiet. With less than three days to pull together a massive event, getting married or even meeting men was the last thing on her mind. And even if she wasn’t so busy, considering the whole embryo issue, getting involved wasn’t just unlikely, it was impossible.
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED perfectly clear. The temperatures were supposed to be in the low seventies. Apparently God had come through, Pia thought as she arrived at the park a little after seven to find work under way.
The city maintenance crew was already setting up the long tables and collection bins. Several signs had been donated by a printer, and ones that had been made by hand were sorted and in place. Pia had drawn up a floor plan of sorts, showing what would be collected where.
Her miracle phone tree had worked perfectly, and she’d heard back from over fifty people with promises of books, supplies and even cash. Liz Sutton, a Fool’s Gold native and a successful author who had recently returned to settle in town, had quietly promised five thousand children’s books to start the library. When Pia had offered to shout about the donation from every rooftop in town, Liz had insisted on being anonymous.
She wasn’t the only one giving big. Local hero Josh Golden had already handed in a check for thirty thousand dollars, again with instructions to keep quiet about him giving it. A cashier’s check for ten grand had arrived in her office the previous morning. Just a plain envelope slipped under the door. No return address and drawn on a busy Sacramento bank, so there was no way of tracing it.
Pia had turned the money over to Nancy, along with a list of what else she knew was being donated.
Now as she sipped her coffee, she went over the events that would happen during the day. The city yard sale would begin at eight. Donations had been delivered the day before, and her volunteers were already sorting through the bounty. To keep things simple, the items would be grouped according to price, at one-, three-, five-and ten-dollar tables.
The bake sale would start at noon, giving the last-minute bakers time to get their goodies finished. The auction was at three, and Pia was still waiting on the list of what would be offered.
Throughout the day, local bands would play, the hospital was offering a mini-clinic for blood pressure checks and the high school senior class was holding a car wash. Pia was less sure about their “Naked for a Cause” theme—even though the class president had sworn that meant bathing suits, not actual nudity, but at this point, she was willing to take every dollar they raised.
By seven-thirty there was a steady stream of volunteers showing up. They checked the master directory Pia had posted and went to their assigned areas. Charity arrived fifteen minutes later, looking pale.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I don’t get sick in the morning much, but today was one of those days. The good news is the guys did a very nice job installing the floor tile.”
Pia winced. “You got a close look at it?”
“For nearly an hour. My knees hurt.” She pressed a hand to her midsection. “Not to mention other parts of me.” She handed Pia a folder. “The final auction info.”
“Thanks for doing this.”
“I’m happy to help. There are some great prizes.” Charity paused. “Is it a prize if you have to buy it?”
“I’m not sure.”
Pia flipped through the list. There were the usual gift cards from local restaurants and shops. She would bundle those into a couple of baskets, so the value was greater. That should up the bidding price. Ethan Hendrix had offered five thousand dollars’ worth of remodeling. There were weekends in Tahoe and up at the ski resort, ski lessons, and a weekend in Dallas compliments of Raoul Moreno. His package included airfare, two nights at Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek, dinner at the hotel and two tickets to a Dallas Cowboys home game…on the fifty-yard line.
“There’s some money in that prize,” Pia said, impressed by Raoul’s generosity.
“I know. My eyes nearly bugged out,” Charity said. “The guy’s already donating his camp. That’s more than enough.”
“He’s nice,” Pia said absently. “He can’t help it.”
“That’s true. We had a few minor injuries, but everyone was treated on the scene and released.” Marsha looked at them, her blue eyes dark with concern. “We’re still assessing the damage, but we’re talking millions of dollars. We do have insurance and that will help, but it won’t cover everything.”
“You mean the deductible?” one of the council members asked.
“There’s that, which is sizable enough. But there are other considerations. Books, lesson plans, computers, supplies. As I said, some will be covered, but not everything. The state will offer assistance, but that takes time. Which leads me into the next topic. Where to put all those children? I refuse to let this fire disrupt their education. Nancy?”
Nancy East, a bright, plump woman in her late thirties, opened a notebook in front of her.
“I agree with Marsha—keeping the children in school is our first priority. We considered splitting them up among the other three elementary schools, but there simply isn’t enough room. Even with portable classrooms, the infrastructure can’t support that many additions. There isn’t enough space in the cafeteria or on the playground. There aren’t enough bathrooms.”
Some of the tension in her face eased. “Fortunately, we have a solution. Raoul Moreno has offered his camp. I toured the facility yesterday, and it’s going to work beautifully for us.”
Pia leaned back in her chair. The camp was an obvious choice, she thought. It was big and had plenty of buildings. It was closed in the winter, so they wouldn’t be displacing anyone.
“There are some logistics for our classes,” Nancy continued. “Our maintenance staff is up there right now, figuring out the best configurations. There is a main building where we’ll have assemblies and where the cafeteria will be. Calls have gone out to schools all around the state for extra supplies, including desks, blackboards, dry-erase boards, buses. We’re making an appeal to the commercial suppliers. As Marsha mentioned, the state will be offering some assistance.”
She turned to Pia. “I need your help, Pia.”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“I want to mount a supply drive for this Saturday. We’ll hold it in the park. We need everything from pencils to toilet paper. Our goal is to have the children back in school by Monday.”
Pia remained calm on the outside, but inside there was a very loud shrieky voice. “It’s Wednesday.”
“I know. That’s the challenge. Can you pull something together by Saturday?”
The clear answer was no, but Pia swallowed that. She had a phone tree that rivaled anything created by the government and access to an impressive list of volunteers.
“I can get the word out tonight,” she said. “Beg mention in tomorrow’s paper, along with Friday’s. Do media Friday and get it set up by, say, nine Saturday morning.” Even thinking about it was enough to make her woozy. “I need a list of what you need.”
Nancy had come prepared. She passed a folder to Pia. “If people would rather give money, we won’t say no.”
“Who would?”
Pia flipped open the folder and stared at the neatly typed sheets. The list was detailed and, as Nancy had promised, listed every possible need, from chalk to china. Well, not china, exactly, but dishes for the camp.
“I thought the camp already had a working kitchen,” she said. “Why would they need plates, glasses and utensils?”
“End Zone for Kids housed less than a hundred campers, even with the day campers,” Marsha told her. “We’re sending up close to three hundred.”
“That’s a lot of napkins,” Charity murmured. “I’ll stay after the meeting and you can tell me what I can do to help.”
“Thanks.”
It wasn’t the size of the project that worried Pia, but the speed. She would need a full-page ad in the local paper. Colleen, her contact at the Fool’s Gold Daily Republic, wasn’t going to be happy.
“I need to make a call,” she said, then excused herself.
Once she was in the hall, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.
“Hi, it’s Pia,” she said.
Colleen was a woman of a certain age—only no one knew exactly what age that was. She was a hard-drinking, chain-smoking newspaper woman who didn’t believe in chitchat and had never met an adjective she didn’t want eliminated.
“What do you want?” Colleen snapped.
Pia sucked in a breath. Talking fast was essential. “A full page tomorrow and Friday. Saturday we’re going to be collecting donations for the school that burned down. For a new school and supplies.”
Damn. Talking to Colleen always made her nervous. The worst part was the other woman didn’t have to say anything to get Pia feeling frantic.
“The kids will be going up to the camp while the burned-out school is repaired. They’ll need everything from books to pencils to toilet paper. I have a list. Money donations are fine, too.”
“Of course they are. Anything else? How about a kidney? I was told I have two. You want I should cut that out and send it along?”
Pia leaned against the wall. “It’s for the children.”
“I’m not competing in any beauty pageant. I don’t have to give a fig about kids or world peace.”
There was a long pause. Pia heard the other woman exhaling smoke.
“Get me the material in fifteen minutes and I’ll do it. Otherwise, forget it.”
“Thanks, Colleen,” Pia said, already running for the fax machine on the second floor.
She made the deadline with eighteen seconds to spare. When the copy and the list of needed supplies had gone through the fax machine, Pia returned to the meeting only to find out they hadn’t actually been as busy as she had.
“Charity, is there any chance you’ve seen Raoul’s butt?” Gladys asked hopefully. “Could you get a comparison?”
Pia sank into her seat. “Yes, Charity. You should ask Raoul for a private showing, and I’d like to be in the room when you do.”
Charity rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen his butt, I’m not going to ask to see it. As far as I’m concerned, Josh is perfection, and that can’t be improved upon.”
“You’re his wife,” Gladys grumbled. “You have to say that.”
Marsha rose from her chair. “Debating which of our two celebrity athletes is more attractive can be a thrilling way to pass an hour. However, we still have things to discuss. Pia, you got the ad?”
“Yes. Colleen will run the time, the list and all the contact information tomorrow and Friday. I’ll get the phone tree up and running tonight. We’ll set up tables for those who want to host a bake sale or whatever. The usual stuff.”
Marsha passed her a paper. “Here are the local businesses that will be providing drinks and snacks. I told them not to deliver before eight on Saturday.” She glanced around the table. “I would be grateful if those of you with a close and personal relationship with God spoke to Him about the weather. Warm and sunny on Saturday would be best.”
Gladys looked shocked at the request, but everyone else laughed.
Marsha sat back in her seat. “There’s one other item I need to discuss. I was hoping it wouldn’t be an issue, but no such luck. I realize that when compared with the unexpected fire that destroyed the school, this will seem small and unimportant. However, it is going to impact our town and we have to be prepared.”
Pia glanced at Charity, who shrugged. Apparently Marsha hadn’t talked to her granddaughter about the mystery element.
“A few of you may remember Tiffany Hatcher,” Marsha said. “She was a graduate student who came to Fool’s Gold in the spring. Her field of study is human geography. As in why people settle where they do, why they move, etc.”
Pia vaguely remembered a petite, pretty young woman who had been very interested in Josh. As he’d only had eyes for Charity, nothing had come of her flirting.
“I tried to delicately discourage her from writing about the town, but I wasn’t successful,” Marsha continued. “Her thesis is being published. She called to let me know there is a chapter on Fool’s Gold. Specifically about the ongoing shortage of men. She has sent out excerpts of the chapter to many media outlets and there has been, as she so happily put it, interest.”
“No,” Chief Barns said forcefully. “I’m not going to have a bunch of media types mucking up my town and parking where they’re not supposed to. Isn’t there enough real news in the world without them paying attention to us?”
Pia’s thoughts exactly. But she had a bad feeling that a town with a man shortage would be exactly the right kind of story to capture a lot of attention.
“I don’t suppose telling the media we don’t want them here will help,” Charity said.
“If only,” Marsha told her. “I’m afraid in the next few weeks we’re going to have to deal with the problem. And not just the media, either.”
Pia stared at her boss. The mayor nodded slowly.
“When word gets out, we’ll be flooded with men looking for a town full of lonely women.”
“That could be fun,” Gladys said, looking intrigued. “A few of you need a good marrying.”
Pia suspected Gladys meant her, so she was careful to stay quiet. With less than three days to pull together a massive event, getting married or even meeting men was the last thing on her mind. And even if she wasn’t so busy, considering the whole embryo issue, getting involved wasn’t just unlikely, it was impossible.
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED perfectly clear. The temperatures were supposed to be in the low seventies. Apparently God had come through, Pia thought as she arrived at the park a little after seven to find work under way.
The city maintenance crew was already setting up the long tables and collection bins. Several signs had been donated by a printer, and ones that had been made by hand were sorted and in place. Pia had drawn up a floor plan of sorts, showing what would be collected where.
Her miracle phone tree had worked perfectly, and she’d heard back from over fifty people with promises of books, supplies and even cash. Liz Sutton, a Fool’s Gold native and a successful author who had recently returned to settle in town, had quietly promised five thousand children’s books to start the library. When Pia had offered to shout about the donation from every rooftop in town, Liz had insisted on being anonymous.
She wasn’t the only one giving big. Local hero Josh Golden had already handed in a check for thirty thousand dollars, again with instructions to keep quiet about him giving it. A cashier’s check for ten grand had arrived in her office the previous morning. Just a plain envelope slipped under the door. No return address and drawn on a busy Sacramento bank, so there was no way of tracing it.
Pia had turned the money over to Nancy, along with a list of what else she knew was being donated.
Now as she sipped her coffee, she went over the events that would happen during the day. The city yard sale would begin at eight. Donations had been delivered the day before, and her volunteers were already sorting through the bounty. To keep things simple, the items would be grouped according to price, at one-, three-, five-and ten-dollar tables.
The bake sale would start at noon, giving the last-minute bakers time to get their goodies finished. The auction was at three, and Pia was still waiting on the list of what would be offered.
Throughout the day, local bands would play, the hospital was offering a mini-clinic for blood pressure checks and the high school senior class was holding a car wash. Pia was less sure about their “Naked for a Cause” theme—even though the class president had sworn that meant bathing suits, not actual nudity, but at this point, she was willing to take every dollar they raised.
By seven-thirty there was a steady stream of volunteers showing up. They checked the master directory Pia had posted and went to their assigned areas. Charity arrived fifteen minutes later, looking pale.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I don’t get sick in the morning much, but today was one of those days. The good news is the guys did a very nice job installing the floor tile.”
Pia winced. “You got a close look at it?”
“For nearly an hour. My knees hurt.” She pressed a hand to her midsection. “Not to mention other parts of me.” She handed Pia a folder. “The final auction info.”
“Thanks for doing this.”
“I’m happy to help. There are some great prizes.” Charity paused. “Is it a prize if you have to buy it?”
“I’m not sure.”
Pia flipped through the list. There were the usual gift cards from local restaurants and shops. She would bundle those into a couple of baskets, so the value was greater. That should up the bidding price. Ethan Hendrix had offered five thousand dollars’ worth of remodeling. There were weekends in Tahoe and up at the ski resort, ski lessons, and a weekend in Dallas compliments of Raoul Moreno. His package included airfare, two nights at Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek, dinner at the hotel and two tickets to a Dallas Cowboys home game…on the fifty-yard line.
“There’s some money in that prize,” Pia said, impressed by Raoul’s generosity.
“I know. My eyes nearly bugged out,” Charity said. “The guy’s already donating his camp. That’s more than enough.”
“He’s nice,” Pia said absently. “He can’t help it.”
