I had the urge to kick the guy in the shins. Not a good way to start the fundraiser, I reminded myself.
“Seriously,” I said, letting just a tiny edge of coolness come out in my voice. “She shows up on time, works hard and everyone from the four-year-olds to the senior citizens likes her.”
I shot Mia a quick, encouraging—I hoped—smile. “She shows initiative. It’s hard to find in adults. It’s even rarer in young people without any work experience.”
Simon Janes looked at his daughter. If he was chastised at all by my words, it didn’t show. “That’s good to know,” was all he said.
“Kathleen, what can I do?” Mia asked.
I gave her a full-on smile. “Talk to people. Have fun. And make sure you try some of Eric’s chocolate pudding cake.”
She smiled back at me. “Okay, I will,” she said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Brady Chapman standing in the wings of the stage. Maybe Maggie was with him. I turned to Mia’s father again. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “Please excuse me. I see someone I need to speak to.”
He gave a slight nod, and the accompanying smile seemed more amused than polite.
I started toward Brady. Burtis’s son was talking to someone and as I got closer I realized it wasn’t Maggie; it was his mother. And based on his body language, Brady was upset with her. As I’d backed away, I couldn’t help noticing Dayna seemed impatient, forehead furrowed and one hand restlessly playing with the catch on her purse. She reached out suddenly and touched her son’s arm. He brushed her hand away.
I crossed the stage toward Rebecca and Everett, who had just arrived, and thought how different Simon Janes was from his daughter. Maybe he didn’t just look young. Maybe he was young, which might explain why he’d come across as, well, a little rude.
“Your hair is perfect!” Rebecca exclaimed as I joined them, taking my hands in her own and giving them a little squeeze. “And your dress looks even prettier on you than it did on the hanger.”
She was wearing a black evening suit with a slim skirt and a fitted jacket that coordinated perfectly with Everett’s dark suit.
“And you look beautiful,” I said. I let go of her hands to shake hands with Everett.
Everett Henderson always made me think of actor Sean Connery. They had the same charm with just a tiny edge of ruthlessness.
“You’ve done an outstanding job,” he said, nodding as he looked around.
Eric was set up on one long wooden trestle table. I could smell the chocolate pudding cake keeping warm in a gleaming warming tray. Georgia Tepper from Sweet Thing was at another table with a selection of tiny perfect cupcakes, and Peggy Sue from Fern’s Diner was at a vintage sideboard with coffee, tea and espresso.
“Thank you,” I said to Everett, “but the credit should go to Maggie and Ruby.”
“I’ll make sure the right people get the credit,” Everett said.
I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Abigail joined us then. She was wearing a simple black dress with a red–and-gold scarf draped at the neckline. But the biggest surprise was that she’d cut her hair.
“Abigail, your hair looks beautiful,” I exclaimed.
She beamed at me. “Thank you.”
Her auburn hair, shot with streaks of silver, had been partway down her back and usually she’d worn it in a long braid. Now it just brushed her shoulders with a fringe of long bangs swept to one side.
I noticed that Rebecca was smiling, too. “You did this,” I said.
She nodded. “Abigail said she wanted a little update. Do you really like it?”
“Yes, I do,” I said. Rebecca had helped me grow out my own hair after an ill-advised haircut I’d gotten just before I arrived in Mayville Heights. Unlike Maggie, I didn’t have the bone structure for that short a cut.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” I asked Rebecca.
Everett smiled and lightly touched her arm. “No, there isn’t,” he said. Pride was evident in his voice
“Kathleen, may I borrow you for a minute?” Abigail asked.
“I’ll talk to you a little later,” I told Everett and Rebecca.
Abigail had set up a small table next to the coffee station with more information about the Reading Buddies program. She also had a receipt book and several pens.
“Susan and I are going to take turns being here,” Abigail explained. “No hard sell, I promise.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Thank you for doing this.”
“The program is a great idea,” she said, running a hand over the stack of children’s books she had piled on the table. “I love watching the kids coming in after they’ve learned to read and picking out books to borrow.”
I remembered the check from Hannah. I took it out of my purse. “Would you write a receipt for this and give it to Marcus, please?” I asked.
She smiled. “Of course. Now go mingle and be charming.”
I walked around welcoming people. It was fun to see everyone dressed up.
All three of the Taylors had shown up. Young Harry and his brother, Larry, looked like a couple of bankers in their unaccustomed suits. Their father, Harrison Taylor Senior, was striking in a black suit, set off by his white hair and beard.
“Kathleen, my dear, you look beautiful,” he said. His blue eyes twinkled and I thought, as I always did, how much he reminded me of Santa Claus.
“And the three of you look very handsome.”
“It’s good to put this monkey suit on and not be laid out at Gunnerson’s,” Harrison said.
“Good for us, too, Dad,” Harry Junior said dryly.
“Since we’re on the subject, don’t bury me in this suit,” Harrison said. “There’s a lot of wear left in it.”
Harry ran a hand over his chin. “I’ve got a tarp in the shed. How about that?”
“Fine with me,” the old man retorted.
“This is a party,” I interrupted. “Could we please talk about something other than people being laid out?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, somewhat contritely. I could still see the glint of mischief in his blue eyes.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered.
“My pleasure,” he whispered back.
He turned to his younger son. “I see Peggy over there and I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.” He glanced at Harry Junior. “The good stuff,” he added.
Harry shook his head as he watched his father and brother make their way across the stage. “There’s no point in taking him to the doctor,” he said. “He flirts with her while he’s there, and then he comes home and does the exact opposite of what she told him.”
“I know he’s stubborn,” I said. “But that stubbornness has gotten him this far.”
“That it has,” Harry said, nodding. “Sometimes I think it’s the reason he’s still with us.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Kathleen, this is for your reading program.”
“Thank you,” I said. “If you take that over to Abigail”—I pointed over to the table where she was standing, talking to Vincent Starr—“she’ll give you a receipt.”
He looked across the room. His father already had a cup of coffee and some kind of cream-filled tart balanced on his saucer. He was talking to Mary and even from this distance I knew he was flirting with her.
“Good thing the old man’s as tough as a barbecued shoe,” he said. He rolled his eyes and started for Abigail.
I turned around to take in the entire space for a moment and found Maggie standing behind me. The sparkle in her green eyes matched the sparkling clip in her short blond hair.
She grinned at me. “I knew that dress was perfect for you,” she said. “What did Marcus say when he saw you in it?”
I felt my cheeks get warm. “Um . . . wow.”
She laughed. “He’s right. And he’s looking very wow himself.”
“He is, isn’t he?” I agreed. I looked around and finally caught sight of Marcus standing by the front row of seats on the theater’s main floor, talking to Ella King and paramedic Ric Holm. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he turned and smiled at me.