Fundraising The Dead

by Sheila Connolly

  The check materialized, and James slipped out his credit card.

  “So, dinner’s on the FBI?” I asked as I gathered my bag from the floor and stood to put on my coat.

  “No, on me.” He reached to hold my coat as I slid my arm into it.

  I stopped for a moment and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you-for everything.”

  He didn’t say anything immediately. Then he nodded. “Where’s your car? I’ll walk you to it.”

  We didn’t have much to say as we walked to the parking garage, but it was nice to feel safe on the streets of the city after dark.

  It didn’t take long to get to the garage.

  “Well, this is it,” I said. Really bright comment, Nell.

  “All right, then. Take care.”

  For an awkward moment, I wondered if we were supposed to shake hands or something. In the end, I just turned and walked toward the stairs of the garage. As I entered the stairwell, I caught a brief glimpse of him, standing where I’d left him, watching me.

  CHAPTER 34

  The next morning when I arrived I posted signs on the entry doors announcing a quick staff meeting-déjà vu time. I waited for the troops to gather in the boardroom. People appeared quickly, no doubt apprehensive about the rumors that had been swirling around over the past few days. Gossip travels fast in a small place.

  When it looked as though everyone was assembled, I began to speak. “I know you all want to know what’s going on, but I only want to say it once. Is anybody missing?” People turned to look at each other and shrugged as one. “All right. I’ll give you the short version, and then you can ask questions. Charles Worthington has resigned from his position as president of the Society, effective immediately. There will be an ad hoc board meeting tomorrow to formally accept his resignation and to begin a search for his replacement.” I debated briefly whether to tell them about Doris ’s role in Alfred’s death and decided against it. Let Alfred rest in peace, at least until the press got hold of Doris ’s arrest. “Any questions?”

  Of course there were. The impromptu meeting with the staff eventually ended only because we knew there were patrons lined up at the door, fuming, and we couldn’t afford to antagonize any of our supporters. Nobody mentioned anything about missing documents, not that many people knew about them. Had we really managed to keep that quiet? Or would staff members seek me out one at a time to get the real story? As I had told Marty, our staff were good people, by and large. I hoped they would stick around through whatever was coming, because we needed them, now more than ever. I hoped that they had enough trust in those of us who were left to be patient, and we wouldn’t be seeing a mass defection. I would be saddened to see some of these people go, and they were important to the Society if we wanted to keep operating as usual through the stormy days ahead.

  I wasn’t particularly happy about the lack of leadership going forward. I remembered the search process from the last time and shuddered. If attracting qualified candidates and making a decision had been difficult then, what was it going to be like now, with Charles’s abrupt departure? But that wasn’t my problem: Marty was dealing with the board, and I knew she could handle whatever questions they pitched at her.

  She’d managed to assemble the board in record time, or at least enough of them to make decisions. I don’t know what she told them to get them to show up at the Thursday meeting, beyond the bare facts of Charles’s defection. Since they shared some liability for what went on at the Society-and a fair number were lawyers- she had probably had to tell them more than that. In any case, they had all promised to come to the meeting.

  Marty had asked me to be there, too, so I had dressed carefully, putting on my grandmother’s pearls again, and keeping them on this time. As I walked through the lobby, then the catalog room, I got more smiles than frowns from the busy staff members, so I assumed that they weren’t in panic mode. Yet.

  The meeting had been scheduled for late afternoon, to accommodate professional schedules. Just before four, I wended my way to the boardroom on the second floor. It looked as though most people had already arrived. Marty was clearly in charge, back to her former no-nonsense self, and when she spied me she came over quickly.

  “Nell! Glad you’re here-we’ve got a lot to get through. Jimmy’s coming to explain the legal side of things, and then the board is going to have to vote on a couple of things. I think it’ll be all right, but you never know. Listen, there’s something-”

  She was interrupted by the arrival of the board chair, Lewis Howard, followed closely by James, and the three of them conferred as a few stragglers wandered in. Marty directed one last comment to the chairman, who cleared his throat and called the meeting to order. People drifted to their seats, sat down, and looked expectantly at him. I took a seat against the wall so I could watch the proceedings, since I didn’t have an active role in the group.

  “Gentlemen-and ladies,” the chairman began, casting a conciliatory smile at the few women in the gathering, “we meet today under extraordinary circumstances, in the face of a crisis that threatens to undermine the very foundations of this noble establishment…”

  I’d seen Lewis Howard in action before at many board meetings. He was a Philadelphia lawyer with a long record of distinguished service, and he tended toward pomposity. Still, he was a noble figurehead for the Society, and he wasn’t entirely past his prime. He waxed eloquent, alternately outraged, apologetic, and hopeful. He stopped orating only when Marty, seated next to him, gave him a nudge, and then he turned the meeting over to James.

  Agent James Morrison stood. He began with a brief announcement of Doris ’s arrest, then segued into a crisp and concise summary of Charles’s depredations of the collections and outlined the plea bargain that Charles had indeed requested. He touched on what we could hope to recover, and he gave a time line for expected events. The board members looked uniformly stunned.

  As James wrapped up, he glanced briefly at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. He returned to the assembled group. “Any questions?”

  Marty had apparently done her work well, and there were few. The chairman asked if he should contact our insurance agency, and they agreed to meet at another time to review those details. Another member asked about issuing a public statement, and I cringed, but the majority voiced variations of the opinion that the less said, the better, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  James nodded to the group around the table. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ve got a lot of paperwork waiting for me. Feel free to contact me if you wish.” No one spoke, and he picked up his coat and headed for the door-where he paused, caught my eye, and winked. Winked? What was that about? And then he was gone.

  Marty leaned toward the chairman and whispered something. He nodded, and she stood.

  “I think we’ve covered most of our agenda, except for a few loose ends. First and foremost, we must officially remove Charles Worthington as president of this institution. He has tendered his resignation, but our attorney says that his alleged behavior certainly violates the terms of his contract, so I think that we may feel free to terminate him for cause.” I was faintly amused when I realized that this meant Charles would receive no severance pay or related benefits. “Do I hear a motion?”

  “So moved,” three people were quick to answer. It was seconded in short order, and the motion was passed unanimously.

  Marty spoke again. “That brings us to a second, related issue: how we intend to replace him.” Her eyes swept the group. “I have discussed this with all of you, and I believe that we are in agreement?” Heads nodded. “I propose that we appoint Eleanor Pratt as interim president, to assume active day-to-day management of the Society.”

  Wait a minute! She wanted me to take over? For a moment I was speechless. She was grinning at me.

  I found my voice. “Uh, excuse me, did I hear you correctly? You want me to run the Society?”

  There were plenty of other eyes on me now. Marty look
ed around the table and then back at me.

  “Yes. We’ve talked about it, and we all agree that you are the best choice, at least for now. You know this place, how it works. You’ve worked with the board. You were crucial to uncovering the thefts and to pushing for a more thorough investigation. And the staff like and trust you-they’ll support you. It’s going to be difficult for a while, but we really need someone like you at the helm.”

  My head was spinning. Part of me was screaming in panic: No, I like the job I have, I don’t want the responsibility, I couldn’t possibly be any good at it… And then the spinning stopped and was replaced by a great sense of calm. I had a flashing vision of what this place could be, of what I wanted it to be. And with that came a flood of ideas, things I had wanted to implement, experiment with, and how I could define strategies, work with the board… It was an extraordinary opportunity, and I’d be an idiot not to seize it. I looked Marty in the eye.

  “I’m honored by your faith in me. I would be delighted to accept.”

  I was stunned. I had never been particularly ambitious, and I’d been happy to work with the people who ran the shop wherever I was. I was a good and dependable lieutenant. But… this?

  But, I realized, it made sense. A president represented the place to the public, managed the staff on a macro level, and asked for money. I could do that. Heck, at least if I asked for money as president, I’d have more clout than I did as development director. That was a big plus right there.

  Marty and Lewis Howard were both looking at me, so I guessed I was supposed to say something. I stood up and made my way to the head of the table. As I gathered my scattered thoughts, I looked out at the board, at people whom I had known for years, had worked with on events or committees. And I knew they were upset by what had happened-or what they knew about it. They’d never hear all the details, but they didn’t need to. What they wanted to hear now was reassurance, comfort, hope. I could do that.

  I cleared my throat and spoke. “Thank you for your confidence in me. We are all here because we care about history, about preserving the evidence of the past so that this generation and future generations don’t lose sight of where they came from. We all know that the course of history is seldom smooth, and that applies to the Society as well.

  “A few weeks ago we were happy to celebrate our one hundred twenty-fifth anniversary. While the events in the past weeks have been profoundly troubling, they in no way change who we are, what we do. We are lucky to have identified the problem and found a solution quickly, and I want to believe that this will make us stronger in the future. I think I can guarantee that we’ll be taking a long, hard look at our security procedures.” A laugh rippled through the group. I smiled. “I have a lot of ideas about what we can do, but this is not the time or the place to discuss those. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming months. But for now, I want you to know that we can and will weather this, as we have weathered problems in the past, and continue to serve our mission. And thank you for giving me the chance to be part of it.”

  I would have sat down, since my knees were a bit wobbly, but I didn’t have a chair at the table. Luckily, Marty stepped forward and resumed command-for now.

  “Welcome aboard, Nell. You know you can call on all of us to help you, and we know that, no matter what, you have the best interests of the Society at heart.”

  She looked around the table again. “Well, I think we’ve done enough for today. I’ll be in touch about the next meeting-we can’t afford to wait until the quarterly meeting to address a lot of these issues, but I think we can relax. Go home and try to figure out what’s happened, and how we can keep it from happening again. And we’ll deal with whatever publicity comes along, and the fallout from it. Thank you all for coming on short notice. This meeting is adjourned.”

  There was a moment of stillness, and then people stood and began gathering their belongings. About half of them approached me, shook my hand, promised to help however they could. I could sense their relief. I nodded, smiled, said things I’d never remember. Time enough to sort things out later-right now I had to avoid looking like a scared rabbit-I needed to project confidence and assurance. I was in charge; they’d said so. That would take getting used to.

  Finally everyone had straggled out, and only Marty was left. I didn’t know whether to hug her or kick her.

  “You sandbagged me, you know,” I said.

  “You handled it beautifully. I knew you would. Admit it-you’re happy about it, right?”

  I grinned grudgingly. “I think I will be, when I have a chance to think about it. How did you sell the board on me?”

  “Nell, don’t put yourself down. You’ve done a good job here, and, as I said, people trust you. We need continuity, stability more than anything else right now, and you can provide that. You’ve got more common sense than most of the staff and half the board. And you really do care about this place. You’re the best choice, and the board agrees. Don’t worry about the long run-this is temporary, but you do a good job, you’ll be around for a while. Madame President-I like it.”

  “One more thing, Marty. I think as my first official act I’d like to establish the Alfred Findley Memorial Fund for Collections Management. I think you’ll be making a substantial contribution to it.”

  “Fair enough. Now let’s go celebrate!”

  Sheila Connolly

  ***

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