by ACF Bookens
And if I’d had any doubt that I was beautiful, Daniel would have dispelled that immediately when he came in and smiled with the most tender, perfect glow in his eyes. He spoke to Tiffany politely, but his eyes rarely left me – and that felt amazing. Plus, he looked gorgeous in his charcoal gray suit and a burgundy bowtie. We were going to make a fine pair of silent auction attendants.
After putting away my stress-driven “supper,” I threw Taco and Mayhem each a bone and made sure their water bowl was full. Then, I fluffed up Aslan’s favorite cashmere throw on the sofa and put a saucer with a little tuna on top of the fridge. The dogs wagged their tails gratefully, and Aslan showed her gratitude by curling up with her back to me on her blanket. “See you guys later,” I said as we headed out.
Daniel drove my truck with me beside him and Tiffany next to the passenger window. I loved the idea of us in our fancy outfits in this vintage truck, and apparently, we put on a good show because when we pulled up the actual valet, not to be confused with Daniel as my personal valet, whistled as we stepped out. Quite a few other heads turned, and I decided that I was going to put the knife incident out of my mind and enjoy the night.
When we stepped inside, the room was buzzing with people laying out flatware and adjusting tablecloths. In one corner, I saw Elle and waved. She was finagling the centerpieces on the main buffet table, and once again, she had created amazing work – big bouquets of sunflowers in all varieties. And on the dining tables themselves, she had placed tiny vases of dried strawflowers surrounded by the smallest pumpkins and gourds I’d ever seen. It was tasteful and perfect for a setting where it was important that people talk without being blocked from each other by huge flower arrangements.
Mart came bustling over, and despite how much she was responsible for, she looked amazing in a short, electric-blue cocktail dress and strappy sandals, and her hair was swept up with a rhinestone-encrusted clip on one side. The only blemish on her was the frown she wore as she came over and grabbed my right wrist. “Let me see,” she said.
I turned my hand so that the cut was facing her, but I’d hidden the bandages under a black scarf I’d twisted with a thin silver ribbon and wrapped around my hand. “Like my new accessory? I call it “hospital chic.” I grinned.
“Well, clearly if you can make bad jokes, you are okay. You are okay, right?” Her eyes bore into mine.
“I am totally fine. Now, where do you need us?”
Mart gave me one last look and then snapped her focus back to the event. “Tiffany, are you up for welcoming guests?”
“Whatever you need,” Tiffany said. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“Great. Actually, you’ll all be kind of together right here.” She pointed at a long table. “Tiffany, here’s your clipboard. All you need to do is say Hello to everyone, and check off their names when they come in.”
“Got it,” Tiffany replied and took a position near the door with a wink to me. “No one gets past me without a welcome.”
I laughed and once again hoped she wasn’t a killer. But I couldn’t ponder that possibility long because Mart was talking to me, and I was missing my directions.
“. . . so that’s it. Pretty simple, right?” Her eyes were wide as she looked from me to Daniel.
“Totally simple,” Daniel answered for both of us. “We’ve got it, Mart.”
“Awesome. Thank you all. Doors open in,” she looked down at her silver watch, “ten minutes. Dinner begins at seven, so if you could get as many bids as possible in that half-hour . . .”
“No problem,” I said, praying that Daniel had actually heard the directions for what we were supposed to do. “Do we have a goal for the silent auction?”
Mart grinned. “That’s my girl. Does ten thousand seem too high?”
I looked at the table full of gift certificates, hand-thrown pots, and gift baskets. “Depends. Any big ticket items?”
“Does a week’s stay at the Biltmore Estate count as big ticket? What about season tickets for the Ravens?” She turned to me with a glimmer in her eye. “Or a week on a luxury yacht with a full crew?”
“Okay, now you’re just showing off. You weren’t serious about only getting ten thousand for those things were you?”
Mart frowned. “Actually, I was. Silent auctions don’t usually bring big money.”
“Well, no, not if they are for bottles of wine or St. Michael’s tchotchkes. But for those, let’s aim for fifty thousand at least.”
Mart took a quick step back. “Are you serious?”
“Totally serious. I mean you have some big hitters coming tonight, right? I mean you were talking about some big CEOs last week, billionaires?”
“Shhh. They like to be low-key.” Mart blushed. “But yeah . . . One of them donated the yacht, though, so he probably won’t bid.”
Daniel laughed. “If you can afford to donate a week on your yacht with staff, you can bid on other things. Harvey’s right, Mart.”
“Alright then,” Mart said with a wide spread of her arms. “Let’s do this.”
As she walked away, I leaned over between Daniel and Tiffany said, “I didn’t want to freak her out, but we’re going to bring in one hundred K tonight.”
Tiffany’s eyes got wide. “You’re serious?”
“Totally serious. Donors are warm at this kind of event. It won’t take much to get them bidding. You welcome them and send them our way,” I tilted my head at Daniel. “We’ll get their bids.”
Daniel looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “What am I going to do? I know nothing about fundraising.”
“Ah, but you look like a million bucks. You are our decoy. Just pretend to be considering your bids. I’ve got the rest.
* * *
By the time Mart welcomed everyone and invited them to the tables for dinner, Daniel and I were well past fifty thousand in bids. It didn’t take much to convince people who had already paid five hundred a plate to give more for a great cause. And even those folks who couldn’t afford the big items were happy to put down a bit of cash for those bottles of wine and tickets to the local theater. Bidding would close just before dessert was served, and with one more push from me – with Mart’s permission – as the entrees came out, I knew we’d be there.
I popped over to where Mart was describing the winery’s selections and awards to guests who were interested in joining their wine club and whispered in her ear. She furrowed her brow and then nodded before holding up one finger.
A few moments later, she headed toward the stage and tilted her head for me to follow. She asked the pianist who had been playing throughout the evening to pause for a moment, and then she handed me a microphone.
I smiled as I tried to not trip over my own feet climbing the stairs to the stage, and then I took the microphone. I didn’t have a planned speech, but I’d long ago learned that heartfelt, personal messages were the key to great fundraising. So I started with what I felt most at this moment.
“When I moved to St. Marin’s just over a year ago, I knew I loved the look and feel of the town. It’s quaint and warm, and the landscape is gorgeous. What I didn’t know was that I was going to move into the most amazing, supportive community of people I’ve ever known. When you all see a need, you address it, as is evidenced here tonight by your presence.”
I looked across the crowd and saw the gentle smiles of people who had been complimented sincerely.
“Just by coming tonight, you have done a great work and given RAINN funds they need to continue their support of people who are the victims of sexual violence. Thank you.” I watched lots of heads nod at tables around the room and assumed those were the RAINN staff.
“Now, I’m asking you – if you are able – to give a little more. We have some amazing prizes over at the Silent Auction.” I pointed toward the long table, and Daniel did his best Vanna White impression, hand wave and all, to show off the high-ticket items. “We need to honor the gifts of our donors by getting the bidding going on th
ese items. Let me tell you about a few of them.”
I then did my best sales pitch for how good someone would feel at every Raven’s game this season if they knew those seats bought people safety from abusive situations, and how wonderful it would be to invite friends on a week-long yacht cruise if you could tell them their vacation was supporting people who really needed that support. I could see people looking from me to the table as I talked, and finally, I sensed the right moment – the moment when the pitch would land. I’d never be a car salesman, but I could sell the crap out of a good cause.
“So who’s going to take these moments before dessert to change the lives of men and women who really need a win in the world? I don’t need a show of hands. Nope, I need you to move your feet.” I smiled and made eye contact with someone at each table, and within a few seconds, I heard the sound of a chair moving back, then another, and then more. Soon, at least a dozen people were over at the silent auction, filling out their bids.
I cleared my throat loudly to pull the attention back to me for one last minute, the last clincher to guarantee we’d hit our goal. “Bidding will close when the dancing opens, so don’t wait. If you want that good feeling that comes from doing something really amazing, now is the time.” A few last-minute folks jumped up, and I said, “Thank you.”
Before I left the stage, I quickly made arrangements with the band leader to give a five minute “bids are closing” warning and then announce the end of the auction.
When I handed the mic back to Mart, she looked panicky. “You’re closing the bidding.”
I pursed my lips. “I thought that was your plan all along.”
She winced. “Well, it was the plan, but I didn’t really intend to stick to it. I thought we’d just let people keep bidding to make more.”
I shook my head. “Nope, it doesn’t work that way. People will intend to bid but then forget after they’ve had a little more wine or when they realize they need to get home to the sitter. You’ve got to close the deal early in the evening.” I gave her a hug. “Plus, then you get to announce what the auction’s proceeds are. People get even more generous when they know they’re in a crowd of generous people.”
Mart had twisted a single strand of hair around her index finger, and it looked like it was cutting off the circulation. “Trust me, Mart. I’m good at this, remember?” I put my hands on her shoulders. “I’ll bring you the total in a half hour. Worst case scenario, you can ask for final donations to close the gap as you give the final thanks at the end of the night.” I winked and headed back toward Daniel.
My boyfriend was schmoozing so well that I almost didn’t want to interrupt. He was pointing people toward the high-price items while also mentioning that the money spent the same even if it was applied to a really good bottle of wine. I gave his bicep a squeeze as I passed by, and he smiled. This was definitely not his thing, but he always rose to the occasion.
I took my place at the end of the table and encouraged people to bid generously – but always within their means. I looked up websites on my phone to give the bidders thorough information about the items up for auction, and I even helped one woman whose arthritis had stolen her ability to write make a ridiculously generous bid on a tea gift basket. “I do love tea,” she said with a wink and a smile.
When the five-minute warning came, every item had a sizable bid, and there was an all-out bidding war over the week’s yacht rental. The amounts these two men were putting down left me breathless because they were more than my bookstore would gross in a year, but I was also breathless with excitement. From just my quick tally, I could tell we’d surpassed our goal. I couldn’t wait to see what our total was.
At the very last second, a middle-aged woman in sensible pumps and a suit dashed over to grab the pen on the yacht rental. She stood poised, and as the band leader closed the auction, she put down her final bid. I tried not to stare, but her fanfare made that impossible. And so did her bid – one million! I started to cry. Mart was going to be ecstatic.
The woman started to dart away as soon as her bid was done, but both Daniel and I went after her. He was faster, so he stepped in front of her as she headed toward the front doors. “Ma’am, I just wanted to say thank you,” he said. I stepped beside him and smiled.
She stopped, looked him in eye, and said, “No need. A person on the phone at RAINN saved my life fifteen years ago. I’m just passing along the gift.” Then, she walked past us and left. I had to take deep breaths to keep from sobbing. I didn’t want to embarrass myself, but more, I didn’t want Mart to worry. From me, tears could mean anything from sheer terror to anger to sadness to complete joy. She didn’t need to be focused on me, so I took one more deep breath and gathered the bidding sheets.
As the dance floor began to fill, Daniel and I started to tally. I cannot even add two two-digit numbers without a calculator, so I was very glad for my phone for the second time that night. We wrote down each winning bid and who had placed it, and then we ran a total for proceeds. We ran it a second and a third time just to be sure. When we were sure, we stared at one another wide-eyed for a few seconds, and then we tried to walk casually to where Mart was sitting.
I don’t know what she saw in our faces, but she jumped up when we came over and reached for the paper in Daniel’s hand. “I think you need to sit down, Mart,” Daniel said.
Her face fell. “That bad, huh?”
“Well, not exactly. I pulled her down into her seat and sat down, turning a chair to face her.” I laid the tally sheet in front of her and waited.
She looked at the figure and tilted her head. Then, she picked it up and brought it closer to her face before running her finger down the list of dollar figures and setting the sheet down again. “That can’t be right. You must have miscalculated.”
“Nope,” I said. “We triple-checked, and we personally witness that last number get written down. The Silent Auction brought in $1,585,000, Mart.”
My friend is not a crier, but tears welled in her eyes. “How? What?! How is that possible?”
Daniel sat down on the other side of her and told her about the bidding wars and the people who bid up prices just to get others to bid higher, too. Then, he told her about the woman who wanted to thank RAINN. “It’s amazing, huh?” he said as he squeezed Mart’s hand.
“I can’t believe it. I have to go tell the director.” She turned to me and let out a shuddering breath. “What do I say?”
I smiled. “You tell her that her budget is covered for the next few years.”
Mart slammed me to her chest. “Thank you, Harvey.”
“Oh, no, don’t thank me. Thank RAINN. Their work is what made people give. Just tell them to keep it up.” I felt myself choking up again, so I stopped talking.
“Alright. This is going to be so fun.” Mart wiped a tear off her cheek and headed toward a tall woman who was dancing with her wife in the middle of the dance floor.
Daniel scooted over next to me, and we watched with no shame at all as that tall woman broke down on her wife’s shoulder as Mart whispered in her ear. “That’s what joy looks like,” Daniel said.
“Yes. Yes it is,” I said. “Care to dance?” “More than Words” by Extreme was playing, and I couldn’t help but sing along, harmony even. My choir teacher had used this nineties hit all the time, and I still loved it. Plus, it was fun to sing it to Daniel as we turned in small circles around the crowded dance floor.
Eventually, the dance floor began to clear, and Mart took to the stage to thank everyone for coming. “We are so grateful to all of you, and we are thrilled to announced that we raised over $2.1 million for RAINN tonight, thanks to your generosity in both buying tickets and especially for those wonderful silent auction bids. Now, someone else wants to say thank you.” The director took the microphone from Mart and told the gathered benefactors that these funds would cover operating expenses for the next two years AND allow the organization to expand its hotline staff and their educational program to col
lege campuses. Tears flowed down her face as she spoke, and I saw a number of people wiping their eyes as well. The night had been a success on all accounts.
Tiffany had been an amazing greeter, and many people shook her hand as she left, thanking her for her hospitality. She was gracious and resisted the temptation that I would have had to explain that really I was just a volunteer. When the last guests left, she offered to stay and help Mart wrap up and suggested I get on home. “You have had a huge weekend, and you still have to open the shop tomorrow,” she said.
I yawned and nodded. I wanted to stay and help – helping made me happy – but I knew that I needed to respect my own needs and head home, so I hugged Mart and took Daniel’s arm as we headed toward the car.
A blood-curdling scream rang out across the parking lot just as Daniel opened my door, and I knew that my night of rest wasn’t in the cards.
11
It didn’t take long for us to figure out who was screaming and why. There, scrawled in bright blue paint along the foundation at the front of the club were the words, “Those girls were asking for it.” I hissed when I saw the graffiti, something inside me clenching at the ways those words had been thrown at me and other people I knew who had been assaulted.
The person screaming was Tiffany, and she hadn’t stopped. I rushed over to her, put my arm around her waist and turned her away. Tears were pouring down her face, and I wasn’t sure she had taken a breath in the minute or so it had taken me to reach her. Daniel took us both by a shoulder and steered us back into the parking lot, where he opened the truck door and helped me get Tiffany inside. I squeezed in next to her, and Daniel got behind the wheel.