“Ladies, gentlemen, I am delighted to welcome you this evening to celebrate the first hundred and twenty-five years for the Pennsylvania Antiquarian Society, as we take our first step toward a greatly enhanced future. It is gratifying to see so many old friends and supporters here, because we face some daunting challenges in the days ahead. But with the assistance of our able board and the valuable input from our architects and planners, we have developed a strategy to meet the challenges of the future, all the while preserving the best of the past. For that is our mission: to preserve and to protect our treasures, so that future generations may benefit from them.
“As you know well, our primary goals continue to be: to create the best possible physical environment in order to maintain our world-renowned collections; and at the same time, to create a place that welcomes scholars and visitors, that provides a suitable setting in which to learn and explore. We strive to marry these two goals, and we must work together to forge an institution that will be a credit to this wonderful city. Please help us both to honor our past and to celebrate our future.”
I had to admire the way the words rolled off his tongue as though they were spontaneous, which I knew they weren’t, because I had written them for him. And of course that last line was a delicate hint to those present that they should take out their checkbooks.
I sneaked a quick look at the audience, which appeared well lubricated. Time to begin herding people toward their tables-no easy task, even though elegantly hand-lettered place cards had been carefully distributed by Carrie, after days of soul-searching over seating charts. With my eyes I gathered the junior staff’s attention: they moved promptly to the double doors into the reading-slash-dining room, armed with fresh copies of the seating charts so that they could steer the guests in the right direction. I joined Charles at the dais and addressed the throng.
“Thank you, Charles. Let me add that I am delighted to see so many familiar faces here, and even more delighted by the new faces among you. You are the heart-and the backbone-of the Society, and none of this would be possible without you. Now, ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes we will begin serving dinner. If you have any trouble locating your table, just ask one of the staff members stationed by the doors, and they will be happy to help you.”
I gave the assembly a bright smile, which was lost on the majority of them as they surged in the opposite direction toward the bar for a final refill.
Charles leaned forward slightly to speak softly in my ear. “Nell, you’ve done a magnificent job, as always. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His breath was warm against my neck as I continued to beam brightly at the crowd, alert for any glitches. He went on, even more softly. “Will I be seeing you later?”
Without turning, I replied in the same low tone, “Of course-we can do our own celebrating. But I’ll have to stay until the caterer’s wrapped things up, so it’ll be late.”
“And worth waiting for, my dear.” With that, he moved purposefully toward a latecomer, a senior board member who had just come in and was wrestling with his coat. “Ah, Arthur, I’m so glad you could make it.”
I watched Charles cross the room, admiring the elegant cut of his jacket, and the elegant back it covered. Then I squared my shoulders and went to supervise the dinner seating. My staff was ready and waiting at the doors. Alfred, I noted, had not moved from where Felicity had parked him, but he had been accosted by one of the more inebriated guests, who looked to be haranguing him about something. Poor Alfred-but I didn’t have the time to rescue him now.
Those lucky souls who have never had the privilege of planning a major event such as a wedding are probably unaware of the hair-pulling and hand-wringing that goes on among the people who have to arrange seating. Since this was, for us, a major event, we had begun well in advance; unfortunately the process continued as people walked in the door. The staff scuttled around, swapping place cards, eliminating those for the no-shows, and strategizing all the while, trying to seat the right people together and keep others apart. And then, of course, the guests themselves often messed it all up by deciding that they absolutely, positively had to sit with somebody else entirely. Or they simply sat down at the first place they came to and refused to budge. Or they brought along guests of their own-usually nonpaying-and expected us to juggle everything to make room for them. Which of course we had to do, because the point of the whole game was to keep the guests (that is, the donors) happy so that they’d continue to love us and write us big checks.
Marty Terwilliger knew all this, but she still surged into my line of sight accompanied by someone I didn’t recognize. “Okay, Nell, where’d you put me? And I need a seat for Jimmy here-he’s my guest.”
I looked at Jimmy. More precisely, I looked up at Jimmy, who towered over me by several inches, despite my heels. But the height was nicely balanced by the breadth, although I might’ve said that his tweed jacket was a little casual for the occasion. However, when I made it as far as his eyes, they were anything but casual. Even in a few brief moments, I got the impression that he didn’t miss much.
“It’s a pleasure to have you here, uh, Jimmy. Marty, let me check the seating chart, but I’m sure we can work it out. Would you excuse me a minute?” Tall Jimmy nodded once, then headed for the bar, while Marty waited near the door. I snatched a seating chart from one of my minions. Luckily I usually planted a staff member or two at each table, someone who could be discreetly withdrawn under just these circumstances, to open up a table space. I ran my eye over the list and turned back to Marty. “Ah, here we are-table twelve, at that end.” I waved vaguely in the right direction, then accompanied Marty toward the door, where she paused to wait for her companion. Dropping my voice, I said, “About that matter we discussed earlier, I’ve asked Alfred Findley to look into it.”
Marty fixed me with an odd look, but I didn’t have time to think about it as Jimmy came up beside us, his hands clamped around a pair of glasses, one of which he handed to Marty. “That’s all well and good, but I still expect to see you and Rich in the morning,” Marty said firmly. “Come on, Jimmy, we’re over there somewhere.” She grabbed his free arm, but he turned briefly to say, “Nice to meet you,” before he was hauled away.
I’d done all I could for the moment, and I had more immediate issues to attend to. While I and my elves had arranged for a truly delightful dinner menu, complemented by some outstanding wines, I didn’t expect to have the opportunity to enjoy it, since it was my job to make sure that everyone was where they were supposed to be, that the caterer was on his toes, that the glasses stayed filled, that the microphone at the head table worked, and that nobody dribbled wine (or worse, threw up) on any of the valuable collections that lined the perimeter of the room. I allowed myself a few brief seconds to admire the handsome room, filled with happy, noisy revelers. I wondered if the room had ever experienced such a noise level in its staid existence. I patted myself on the back, figuratively: Job well done, Nell-and it’ll all be over in another couple of hours. This warm glow of self-satisfaction lasted no more than half a minute: I was interrupted from my reverie by one of the caterer’s assistants, who was yammering on about a tripped circuit breaker in the kitchen, and I followed her to the back of the building to quench yet another crisis. The work of a professional fundraiser is never done.