by Lee McKenzie
“I’m sure you will. Now, we need to do some serious damage control, and we need to do it fast.”
Damage control? God, this wasn’t politics. But Leslie did her best to offer a sweet smile. “What do you have in mind?”
“A social function. A party of some kind. I am not letting the Bedfords have the upper hand. We can have it at the house, since the gardens look particularly good right now. We’ll invite everybody, of course.”
Her mother’s expression told her that she expected to do battle over this, but at that moment Leslie’s plan for a fund-raising event for the shelter solidified. She hadn’t thought of holding it at her mother’s place, but of course it would be perfect. For now all her mother needed to know was that there was going to be a party. By the time Leslie filled her in on the plan, it would be too late for her to back out.
And of course, Gerald was welcome to join the festivities, providing he brought his checkbook.
“It’s very generous of you to host a party,” Leslie said. “But will you please let me take care of everything else? I think it will be good, you know, to have something to keep myself busy and not dwell on the way this turned out.”
“Of course, dear.” For once, her mother couldn’t seem to think of anything to say.
“More coffee?”
“Thank you, but no. I’m on my way to a meeting of the opera society at ten and I have a few errands to run before that.”
They both stood and Leslie accompanied her mother to the front door. Her mother leaned toward her slightly and sent an air kiss in her direction.
She remembered how Brent had hugged his mother and wished she could do the same. It would make both of them uncomfortable, though. For now it seemed that Lydia Durrance believed her daughter was being her usual compliant self. The last thing Leslie wanted to do was raise any suspicion that she might be up to something.
“You’ll let me know as soon as you’ve decided on a date for the party?” her mother asked. “And a guest list?”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days. It won’t take me long to work out the details.” If Leslie had learned anything from her mother, it was how to throw a party at the drop of a hat. Of course, her mother’s good works were always on behalf of the privileged, like the Women’s League and the Collingwood Station Opera Society.
This party would be different. She could hardly wait to get started, and she could hardly wait to see her mother’s reaction when she found out she was hosting a fund-raiser to help the homeless.
Chapter Ten
Brent parked his truck in the alley behind the new job site. The pile of lumber he’d unloaded on Saturday was waiting, and so was Nick. They hadn’t had a chance to talk when Nick had picked up Leslie yesterday, and Brent was in no mood for talking today.
Nick was leaning against the front of his truck, ankles crossed and arms folded. “You’re late,” he said.
Brent pocketed his keys. “Since when do we punch a clock?”
“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“So people keep telling me.”
Nick grinned at him. “My sister doesn’t usually have that effect on people.”
“I’m ten minutes late. Your sister left yesterday. What does one have to do with the other?”
“You tell me.”
Brent grabbed his toolbox out of the back of the truck. No way was he telling Nick he was late because he’d driven past Leslie’s town house. It had been a dumb thing to do, even dumber than driving by the church, but at least this time he hadn’t been found out. “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I had to run an errand, that’s all. So, how are things with you?”
“Good.”
“And Maggie?”
“Maggie’s good.”
“Good.”
Nick laughed. “Hey, I didn’t mean to give you such a hard time. And I haven’t thanked you for rescuing my sister.”
Brent wondered exactly how much Leslie had told him. Not everything, he hoped. “I was just glad I could help.”
“For sure. Lucky that you happened to be driving by the church on Saturday morning.”
“You said you weren’t going to give me a hard time.”
“Yeah. I lied.”
“Okay. I drove by the church. What’s wrong with that? It’s not like I was stalking her.”
Nick was laughing again. “The jury’s still out on that.”
“Very funny.” But now he really hoped no one had seen him this morning. Especially not Leslie.
“So, the two of you must have had an interesting couple of days holed up together.”
Brent shook his head. “If anybody else made that kind of insinuation about your sister, you’d punch his lights out.”
“I’m not insinuating anything. I know my sister, and that’s not her style. And if something had happened, you wouldn’t be in such a foul mood.”
“Are we going to work today, or just stand around talking about my foul mood?” Which was about to get fouler.
“Sure. We can work and talk at the same time.”
Great, Brent thought. Let the good times roll.
LESLIE FOLLOWED a volunteer into a small, dingy back room at the shelter. It wasn’t much of an office, but it wasn’t unexpected.
The middle-aged woman hovered in the doorway. “Colleen’s on the phone but she said she’ll be with you as soon as she can. Would you like some coffee while you wait?”
“Oh, thanks, but no thanks.” If the coffee was like everything else in this place, it would only be marginally acceptable.
She took a chair at a battered old folding table that served as a makeshift desk. The plywood surface had lost most of its finish and was covered with stains and carved initials. She glanced down at the drab linoleum. She set the bag of clothing on the floor but held her briefcase on her lap. While she waited, she took out a file folder and flipped through her notes.
Colleen hurried in a few minutes later, wheeled an ancient office chair up to the table and sat down. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I was on the phone with a reporter from the newspaper who wants to do a story about the shelter having to shut down.”
She made it sound so final, and Leslie had no doubt that she’d painted a doom-and-gloom picture for the reporter. “I’m sure you’ll have a new place lined up by the time you have to be out of here.”
Colleen clearly didn’t believe that, and she made no attempt to hide her bitterness. “We both know that’s not likely to happen. The redevelopment committee has done what it set out to do. Tear down all the affordable housing in town and replace it with upscale condos and tourist hangouts.”
Leslie didn’t know how to respond. Maybe she was overreacting, but it seemed to her the underlying implication was that she was part of the problem. To some extent that might be true, but she couldn’t rewrite history. She did, however, have a chance to show Brent’s mother that she could be part of the solution.
“I’m sure we…you…will be able to find another facility, and I’d really like to help. I’ve started to put together a plan for the fund-raising event. It’s fairly ambitious, but I think it should be able raise a lot of money.”
“You know, this kind of thing is not as easy as you think. We’ve held fund-raisers in the past and never managed to raise more than a few thousand dollars.”
Amateurs. Leslie opened her briefcase and took out several more files, determined to diminish Colleen’s skepticism.
“You have been hard at work.”
“I found an ideal venue,” Leslie said. “And best of all it’s free. Once I had that lined up, everything else seemed to fall into place.”
“You’re telling me someone in this town is doing something out of the goodness of their hearts? That has to be a first.”
Leslie smiled at the idea of there being any goodness in her mother’s heart. “There’s one stipulation. If I tell you where it’s going to be, you have to keep it to yourself until I have all the publicity lined up.�
�
Colleen waved a hand at their stark surroundings. “This place is a lifeline for a lot of people. If there’s even a remote possibility of finding another building, I won’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. We’re going to use my mother’s place.” She took a sketch out of a folder and set it on the table. “She has a huge property and we can hold it outdoors.”
Colleen’s gaze wavered a little. “Your mother is Lydia Durrance, right?”
“Yes, she is.”
“And she’s offered to host an event to raise money for the homeless?”
“Um, not exactly. That’s why we need to keep this quiet for a bit.”
Colleen gaped at her. “She doesn’t know about this?”
“She suggested I throw a party. She thinks…well, none of that matters. It was her idea to have it at her place.”
“But she didn’t have the homeless in mind when she made that offer.”
“No, she didn’t.” Leslie couldn’t imagine anything being further from her mother’s mind.
“What happens when she finds out? If she changes her mind, we’re…well, we’re screwed.”
“I know my mother.” She just wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell Brent’s mother. “She’s worried that calling off the wedding didn’t look good, so she will not back out of the fund-raiser. But I want to have the tickets printed and the advertising in place before I tell her.”
Colleen shook her head and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “You people are too much.”
You people? Stay calm, Leslie. Don’t let her get to you.
Sometimes the direct approach was best, and Leslie decided this was one of those times. “I know you don’t like me, and I can tell you don’t approve of my…” Social circle? She couldn’t say that. “Of my family and friends,” she said. “But a lot of people will jump at a chance to attend a function at the Durrance estate. If we charge two-fifty per ticket—”
“And you seriously think we can make money?” Colleen’s disbelief was unmistakable.
“You think two hundred and fifty dollars isn’t enough?”
Colleen stared at her, and for once she was speechless. Surely she hadn’t thought…But clearly she had.
“It’s a very reasonable price for what we’ll be doing. I’m sure we can sell at least two hundred tickets.” Leslie watched as Colleen did the mental calculation.
“That’s fifty thousand dollars!”
“That’s right.” She paused and gave Colleen a chance to process that information. “We’ll have some expenses, of course, but I’ve already lined up a few donations. And I think that if we do something really festive, a lot of people are likely to make even bigger cash donations once they’re there.”
“What do you mean by ‘festive’?” Finally there was some interest in her voice.
She took a deep breath before making the plunge. “I thought we could have a Christmas in July theme.”
“Christmas? In July?”
Leslie sighed. “Just hear me out. People are always more generous around the holidays but by Christmastime—the real one—it’ll be too late. The shelter needs money now, so we’ll have Christmas now.”
“And you think people will pay two hundred and fifty dollars to have Christmas in July?”
“Technically it’ll be early August, but yes, I believe they will.”
Colleen leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. This is very generous of you, but I don’t have time to work on this, and the foundation sure doesn’t have the capital to float this kind of venture.”
It occurred to Leslie that Colleen could probably put a damper on the real Christmas. “I don’t want you to worry about any of this. Just keep doing what you do here and let the foundation use what money it has to keep this place running. I have lots of contacts around town and I’m confident that most of what we need will be donated.”
“You think people will just give you stuff?”
“Believe it or not, I can be very persuasive.”
“I’m sure you can. Not everyone could convince me to go along with a Christmas in July fund-raising event.”
Leslie smiled. “People are going to love it, you’ll see. A couple of my friends have already offered to help.” She glanced over her list. “One last thing. Does the foundation have an accountant? I’d like to have someone you trust to handle all the money.” And please don’t let it be Gerald, she thought.
“Yes, we were lucky enough to find someone willing to take on a pro bono project.”
Then it couldn’t be Gerald. “That’s great. I’ll make sure all the financial records are passed on.”
“I appreciate that.”
Leslie leaned across the table and covered Colleen’s hand with hers. “This will work,” she said. She genuinely wanted to do this, to make a difference for people like Hannah, and now she was just as determined to change Colleen Borden’s opinion of her.
“We’ve never tried anything this ambitious, and I almost can’t believe I’m going along with it now, so I hope you’re right. A lot of people rely on this place.” Colleen pushed herself away from her desk, the squeaky wheels of her chair indicating that the meeting was over. “I have to get back to work. Will you keep me up to date with what you’re doing?”
“Of course,” Leslie said, tucking her files back in her briefcase. “I’ll drop by every couple of days and fill you in on our plans.” She picked up the bag of clothing and passed it across the table. “Here are the things Brent borrowed for me. I added a few other things, too.”
The extra things were meant to make up for keeping the pink T-shirt and the blue nightgown. Brent had chosen the shirt specifically for her and even if she never wore it again, it would always have that significance. The nightgown was a different matter. She’d worn it to bed last night because it reminded her of him, fresh out of the shower and wearing nothing but a towel. That night his gaze had touched her in a way his hands never could, and she never wanted to forget that.
“Thanks. We can always use donations.”
“When I have more time, I’ll see what else I can find.”
Colleen walked to the front door with her.
Leslie steeled herself to face the heat and the group of men lounging on the steps.
“Will there be a Santa Claus?” Colleen asked.
Leslie turned around and looked at her, wondering if she’d actually heard the question correctly. “I don’t know. I hadn’t given it any thought.”
“If we’re going to have Christmas, we should have Santa.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll…add that to the list.”
She waited until she was out the door and walking down the block to her car before she gave in to the grin. Colleen was right. What was Christmas without Santa Claus?
BRENT DROVE downtown after work. There was only one shoe store in Collingwood Station that was likely to have a pair of shoes like the ones Max had chewed. He had never set foot in the place and as soon as he walked through the door, he regretted going there. Especially straight from work.
The two young salesclerks could have been fashion models or pop stars. Judging by their expressions, they didn’t get a lot of male shoppers covered in plaster and sawdust. Still, they both seemed to want to wait on him.
“Something we can do to help?” the brunette asked.
“Um, yeah. I hope so.” He set the bag on the counter and reluctantly took out Leslie’s shoes. “I need another pair of shoes like these.”
“Oh dear,” the girl murmured as she inspected the damage. The other simply tsk-tsked her disapproval.
“My dog chewed them—”
They both looked up at him, eyes wide and accusatory.
“What a shame,” the blonde said.
“These are beautiful shoes, and very expensive.”
“Yeah, well, he’ll chew pretty much anything.” He hesitated before daring to ask the question that was uppermost on his
mind. “So, when you say expensive…”
Like a crime-scene detective, the brunette picked up one of the shoes and examined it. “I think these were four seventy-five, weren’t they?” she asked the other woman.
What? There wasn’t enough leather in those shoes to make a pair of bootlaces. How in hell did these people have the nerve to charge four hundred and seventy-five bucks for them? That was crazy, and he didn’t have that kind of spare change lying around.
He watched her turn the shoe over. “Size seven.” She shook her head and set it back on the counter. “I’ll check in the back, but I’m quite certain we don’t have any more in that size.”
Since there was no way he wanted to unload that kind of money on a pair of shoes, he hoped they didn’t. It would save him the embarrassment of having to change his mind. He watched her disappear through a curtained door and smiled at the blonde who remained.
She smiled back, and he could have sworn she was flirting with him. “I love dogs,” she gushed. “What kind do you have?”
“A sheepdog.”
That seemed to surprise her. “Do you have sheep, too?” she asked, eyeing his work clothes.
He gave her a long look. She was seriously waiting for an answer.
“No,” he said. “Just the dog.”
“I see.” Which meant she was wondering what was responsible for his disheveled appearance if it wasn’t sheep.
“I renovate old houses.”
“Ahhh.”
Luckily the other woman reappeared, shaking her head. “Sorry. We only have a size five and a nine and a half.”
“Thanks,” he said, hoping his relief wasn’t too obvious. He stuffed the shoes back in the bag and headed for the door.
“Your girlfriend has excellent taste. Why don’t you bring her in and we’ll help her find something else?” the dog lover asked.
Right. Shoe-shopping with Leslie. Somehow he didn’t see that happening, especially not at these prices.
He left the store and stood on the sidewalk, debating what to do. Not being able to replace the shoes would weigh on his conscience, but at least he could return the wedding dress in one piece. He’d go home, have a quick shower and head over to Leslie’s before he lost his nerve.