by Emma Woods
“Last year we sold chocolate, and that was moderately successful. However, we have a big deficit this year and we really need some more funds to move forward. Triple Star is always very generous with letting us use their facility for minimal costs, of course, but we have other costs, particularly since we try to never refuse a child who wants to be a part of our program.” Dave sighed, and I exchanged a look with Jake, who sat across from me. Was Dave worried?
“What have been your most successful fundraisers in the past?” I asked tentatively, wanting desperately to contribute something to the conversation.
“We’ve done a lot of different things,” Chloe began. “We’ve sold just about everything you can think of—t-shirts, mugs, chocolate, coffee, gift cards.”
Sarah nodded. “Having an event tends to work best, but they take so much work that we often don’t have time to make them happen.”
It was just then that the door opened and Nate hurried in, as though he was trying his darnedest to get to our meeting. I suppressed my eye roll. Barely.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said with a grin, and then nudged me to slide over.
I glared at him and moved into the corner of the booth, making every effort to keep a healthy distance between us.
“What are we talking about?” Nate asked.
Dave caught him up on our fund-raising discussion. I shot Jake an annoyed glance, and he shook his head empathetically.
“I think we should totally just talk to everyone in town and ask for donations,” Nate said as soon as Dave finished.
Crickets chirped.
“The trouble is that we would have to make time to meet with everyone in town,” I explained, a bit condescendingly if I had to be honest. I cleared my throat and adjusted my tone. “Although asking for donations could be a good way to get ongoing support. There are a number of businesses here in town, and they might have money to use for charitable giving.”
The heads around the table bobbed in agreement. Nate sat back in his seat as though he’d contributed all he planned to. I ground my teeth.
“What if we did a talent night here? We could ask locals to come and sing or whatever. We could sell tickets, and I bet Matt would donate part of the proceeds from coffee sales.” I stumbled to a stop, trying to rein in my brainstorm.
Everyone else looked a bit skeptical.
It was Chloe who finally said, “A talent show could be really good, but it would be a huge amount of work. I don’t know that any of us can take on such a big project right now.”
“I can do it,” I heard myself offering. Once I realized what I’d just volunteered to do, I gulped.
The eyes of those in my booth lit up.
“Wow, that’s really great, Emily!”
“That would be amazing!”
“Let us know how we can help,” Dave said, and I noticed that he looked decidedly relieved.
I determined then and there to do my best to make this fundraiser a huge success. Sure, I wasn’t a real “joiner” most of the time. I liked to stick to the edges of a crowd and avoid actual commitment. But these special kids needed me. There was no way I could think of little Carlos holding his hand out to me and not give everything I had to raise the money to keep Just Horsing Around running.
We began to brainstorm all we’d need to do to make the event successful. It took awhile to figure out the best date. The Fourth of July was just around the corner, and lots of people traveled during the summer. We argued over several dates but finally decided to hold the show on a Friday night, four weeks away.
Then we got down to the business of logistics.
“I’ll design a poster,” Jake said as he reached for his ever-present sketchbook.
“Ernie at the print shop in Melbourne is my cousin,” Sarah said eagerly. “I’ll call him and see if he’ll give us some fliers for free.”
“I can go around and hand out fliers to all the business in town,” offered Nate.
We all blinked at him, pens frozen. After the first week of watching him not help, I’d come to learn that Nate Weisert was really good at avoiding anything that resembled work. He was great with the kids, but never followed through on any task he was assigned.
“Emily, why don’t you help Nate? That’s going to be a big job,” Dave said, nudging me with his eyebrows.
I was instantly annoyed. Why me? Still, I attempted to force a smile and said, “Sure.”
“Awesome! The Dynamic Duo!” Nate turned and offered me a high-five.
It would be rude to keep him hanging, so I lifted my hand and slapped his unenthusiastically.
“Listen, I’ve got to run,” Nate said suddenly. “Other plans, you know. So, Emily, you’ll let me know when the fliers are ready?”
Typical. “Sure,” I replied hollowly.
“Great. See you!” Nate slid out of the booth, and then went to order himself a cup of coffee before he left.
I turned back to the group in time to see Chloe roll her eyes in Nate’s direction. At least I wasn’t the only one who found his behavior unacceptable.
We were there another hour after Nate’s early departure. By the time we got to our feet, we had list upon list of ideas and things to do. I had a master list of everyone’s responsibilities, and we agreed on goals that needed to be reached by the following Wednesday night meeting.
I saw that Matt was busy with customers, so I decided to wait until the following day to talk to him about hosting the fundraiser. The sun was down, but the air was still warm and friendly. In a little town like Birch Springs, walking home after dark was not something anyone gave a second thought to. As I strode along, I had to admit that I really appreciated that about this town.
When I finally climbed the steps to Bumblebee House, I could hear music pumping from inside. There was light pouring from every window downstairs. It sounded like a party was going on.
No sooner had I stepped into the wide foyer than I saw that all the noise was coming from the dining room to my right. I dropped my bag on a bench inside the front door and kicked off my shoes before sauntering in to see what was going on.
Jill and Rosemarie were dancing and singing along to an old pop song on a radio they’d propped up on a chair. There was an enormous mound of clothes covering the top of the dining table.
I stood in the doorway, wondering what in the world was going on.
“Oh!” Rosemarie looked my way and stopped dancing suddenly.
Jill bumped into her and then spun to look at me, her face reddening. “We probably look like lunatics right about now.”
I grinned.
Jill scuffled over to the radio and turned the volume down to a normal decibel. “So, I really, really hate doing laundry. Once a month, when I’ve run out of clean clothes, Rosemarie and I do a billion loads of laundry, and then we have a folding party. It helps me hate it less.” Jill watched me, waiting, I’m sure, for some sort of reprimand.
“Do you want another set of hands? I like folding laundry,” I offered, then shook my head. Who was it that had taken over my mouth? I kept volunteering for things left and right tonight.
Jill’s eyes lit up. “That would be great! Thanks, Emily!” Then she twisted the dial again, and the music filled the room with a pumping beat. “Let’s rock and fold!”
Rosemarie groaned at the dorky pun. I just laughed and reached for a pair of pants.
In all fairness, it was an obscene amount of laundry. Jill owned more clothes than most stores, and she had washed them all. With three of us working, it took a full half-hour to fold everything. Granted, Jill wasn’t a lot of help. She kept moaning about how much she hated this chore and being distracted by her “favorite” song which was, apparently, all of them. She spent more time dancing and singing than folding, which was fine by me, since it was a very entertaining show. Rosemarie vacillated between singing along and scolding her friend for not doing more.
Finally, we toted all of the stacks upstairs, and Rosemarie and I stood guard as Jill p
ut everything away, complaining the entire time. Of course, the instant the last item was tucked neatly into a drawer, her face lit up.
“That wasn’t so bad! Let’s go celebrate with ice cream.”
Which was how Mae and Rosa, returning from a shopping trip to nearby Clarkston, found us eating Ben and Jerry’s out of the container around the kitchen island and giggling about “Are You the One?”.
“This sounds like serious girl talk,” Rosa teased as she bustled in, looking adorable as always in her vintage 50s dress and matching teal heels.
“I’ll have you know, we spent hours and hours doing laundry today,” Jill responded, pretending to be outraged.
Mae rolled her eyes and laughed. “We all know what that means, Jill.”
“Yeah, I did all the work and Jill did all the avoiding,” Rosemarie quipped. “At least Emily was there to save me.”
Rosa and Mae leaned against the counter.
“Hey, we’re going to be doing a talent show fundraiser for Just Horsing Around,” I announced. “Do any of you want to help?”
“A talent show? Fun!”
“Of course we’ll help.”
“What do you need?”
I grinned around at my housemates. They were an amazing group of women, there was no doubt about that. It would be surprisingly difficult to leave them behind when I moved on. For the first time ever, the thought of moving on made me depressed. What was happening to me?
6
If I wasn’t sure before, it became apparent that my housemates were some of the best people on the planet. They eagerly asked for details of the fundraiser and jumped in to volunteer for jobs before I even asked. Rosa had a long list of people to contact about performing in the talent show. Rosemarie offered to help waitress and assured me that her brother would definitely be willing to host and contribute part of the proceeds. Mae said she’d talk to her boss about making a donation and promptly blushed furiously. Jill promised to take fliers to school and spread the word to the summer staff.
I went to bed feeling warm and so very grateful. And conflicted. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep space between me and the people around me. The Bumblebee girls and I had long since passed from acquaintances to genuine friends. This was new and uncertain ground for me, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Of course, I’d only lived in Birch Springs for a month. It was still the honeymoon phase. Just give it a few months, I assured myself, and you’ll be looking for your next adventure.
I didn’t have to go in to work until noon the next day, and I took full advantage of my morning off. I didn’t set an alarm and slept all the way until 7:30, which for me was sleeping late. I tied on my shoes and went for a long run, then took a refreshing shower and did a load of laundry.
When I sauntered into the Beanery for my shift, my heart was happily thanking God for bringing me to such a good place, though I assured Him that it was temporary.
“Hey there, Em,” Matt greeted me when I stepped behind the counter. His gray eyes crinkled at me.
Maybe it was because he was Rosemarie’s brother, but I had no ability to see him in any other light. Matt was very good-looking and was normally the sort of guy I would be interested in. I wrinkled my nose as these thoughts flashed through my brain. It felt weird to think about him that way. Maybe it was because he was my boss. Well, whatever the reason, Matthew Donovan was deep in the friend zone.
“Busy day?” I asked as I helped myself to some of the steaming dark roast whose chalkboard sign stated that it was freshly made.
“Not too bad. Rosemarie texted and said you had something to talk to me about. Is it serious?” he asked playfully.
I explained my idea for the fundraiser and our hopes to use the Beanery as the venue. Matt nodded along, listening intently.
“I like it,” he announced when I finished talking. “You can definitely have the show here. I’ll have to check my figures for the month, but we could probably donate fifty cents of every cup of coffee sold to Just Horsing Around. Maybe you could make a signature drink for the evening.”
I grinned at him. “Thanks a million, Matt! Everyone will be thrilled. Do you mind if I call Dave to let him know we’re on?”
“Go for it.”
He turned to wipe the counter as I pulled out my phone. Soon, Dave was enthusiastically lauding my efforts. Once we hung up, I texted a confirmation of the location to everyone, then put my phone in my back pocket and got to work. Over the next few hours, Jake brought by the sample poster he’d created, and I raved over it.
That evening, Sarah called to tell me she had the fliers printed and wanted to make sure I was still at the Beanery so she could drop them off. After peeking in the box, we both agreed that they were really great, and Sarah beamed at me before trotting out the door. I looked back down at the stack of glossy pages and heaved a sigh. I couldn’t put it off any longer.
I texted Nate that the fliers were in and asked when he’d be free to hand them out. An hour later, he texted back with a vague offer to help soon. We wrote back and forth just long enough for my shift to end and for me to be thoroughly annoyed with him. I stomped down the street on the way home, inwardly grousing about irresponsible boys trapped in adult bodies.
Somehow over the next two hours, I managed to pin Nate down, and we agreed to meet the following morning at the café at nine o’clock. I brushed my teeth and readied for bed while numbly listing all the ways that the next day’s errand could go horribly wrong, all because of Nate.
My eagerness to prove myself correct meant that I was at the Beanery ten minutes early. Sophie made sure my travel mug was full, and I sat at a table in the front window, scowling at the Nate-free street.
He ambled in fifteen minutes late, which meant that I’d had ten minutes to wait anxiously and fifteen more minutes to grow irritated.
“Hi,” he mumbled sleepily. “Let me get some coffee, and then we can get started.”
I waited with my foot tapping and my face twisted in annoyed superiority. He returned a few minutes later, blowing on the contents of his plastic cup, and caught my gaze.
“What?” he asked, eyes wide.
I blew out a frustrated breath. “Don’t worry about it.” While I piously told myself that I didn’t want to blast him, I secretly was looking for more things to hold against him. It was entirely childish, I know, but I couldn’t seem to help myself where Nate was concerned.
“Where should we start?” I prompted as we stepped out the door.
Nate looked up and down the street and shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
I clenched my teeth, then turned and stalked toward the drug store next to the coffee shop. We went inside, me up front and Nate taking his sweet time behind me.
“Hey, Mrs. Davis,” he called.
“Is that you, Nate?” an elderly voice answered. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time. How’s work going?”
I lifted an angry eyebrow. Nate had a job? It was news to me.
He turned on his wide smile and twinkled his sea-green eyes at the white-haired woman behind the counter. “Work is good. Dad’s keeping me busy. Say, Mrs. Davis, you wouldn’t happen to have any of those peppermints I like so much, would you?”
Mrs. Davis smiled coyly. “Now, Nathan, you know I always keep some behind the counter. Help yourself.” She pulled out a large plastic tub of fat, striped candies.
Nate leaned forward and plucked one from the tub. “These were always my favorites growing up.”
“I know,” the older woman leaned forward and patted his cheek, “that’s why I always have some.”
I rolled my eyes discreetly. This was precisely the problem with Nate’s defective character. He charmed the women around him, who then treated him as though he was a celebrity.
I cleared my throat. The two of them glanced my way. I held up the fliers significantly, and Nate nodded as though he’d just remembered what we were there for. I rolled my eyes less discreetly that time.
“Say, I’m helping out with the Just Horsing Around program out at the Triple Star Ranch,” Nate began.
“Isn’t that sweet of you,” Mrs. Davis cooed.
It took all my mental strength to keep from hollering that Nate was only helping there because it was court-ordered. But that would derail our visit. So I swallowed the words back and tried to smile. I’m pretty sure I failed.
Nate explained the details of the talent show and asked if he could hang a flier in the window. Of course, Mrs. Davis was only too delighted to acquiesce. She found the tape and had Nate climb up among the display to put the flier in a prominent place, where people on the street could see it.
“That looks lovely,” she said as Nate climbed back down.
I couldn’t take it anymore and jumped in. “We’re trying to raise a significant portion of the program’s operating budget. Can we count on this business to contribute five hundred dollars, or some other amount, to Just Horsing Around?”
Nate’s eyes bulged. I held my breath.
Mrs. Davis’ forehead wrinkled. “I’ll have to talk to Mr. Davis, dear. But we’ll help out. You can count on us.”
Out on the street, Nate turned to me with admiration in his eyes. “Nicely done, Emily.”
I shrugged. “People don’t know what you are asking them to do if you don’t come right out and ask. They can always say no.”
We entered the beauty parlor, and it quickly became apparent that Mrs. Davis’ treatment of Nate was standard for the town of Birch Springs. He was greeted with cries of delight from both men and women, young and old. The older men would clap him on the back and reminisce about his long-past football glory days. The younger men would laugh raucously and joke about shared memories that always seemed to involve stupid dares. The older women all had kind words, glowing eyes, and little treats for him. The younger women puffed up and preened, slapping at his arm flirtatiously.
After forty minutes, we’d covered half of Main Street, and I’d witnessed the same routine a dozen times. It was astonishing and a little unnerving. No wonder Nate seemed like a high schooler who had never left home. That was the way the entire town treated him!