Finding Perfect. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ turned to Pia. “I need your help, Pia.”

      “Sure. What can I do?”

      “I want to mount a supply drive for this Saturday. We’ll hold it in the park. We need everything from pencils to toilet paper. Our goal is to have the children back in school by Monday.”

      Pia remained calm on the outside, but inside there was a very loud shrieky voice. “It’s Wednesday.”

      “I know. That’s the challenge. Can you pull something together by Saturday?”

      The clear answer was no, but Pia swallowed that. She had a phone tree that rivaled anything created by the government and access to an impressive list of volunteers.

      “I can get the word out tonight,” she said. “Beg mention in tomorrow’s paper, along with Friday’s. Do media Friday and get it set up by, say, nine Saturday morning.” Even thinking about it was enough to make her woozy. “I need a list of what you need.”

      Nancy had come prepared. She passed a folder to Pia. “If people would rather give money, we won’t say no.”

      “Who would?”

      Pia flipped open the folder and stared at the neatly typed sheets. The list was detailed and, as Nancy had promised, listed every possible need, from chalk to china. Well, not china, exactly, but dishes for the camp.

      “I thought the camp already had a working kitchen,” she said. “Why would they need plates, glasses and utensils?”

      “End Zone for Kids housed less than a hundred campers, even with the day campers,” Marsha told her. “We’re sending up close to three hundred.”

      “That’s a lot of napkins,” Charity murmured. “I’ll stay after the meeting and you can tell me what I can do to help.”

      “Thanks.”

      It wasn’t the size of the project that worried Pia, but the speed. She would need a full-page ad in the local paper. Colleen, her contact at the Fool’s Gold Daily Republic, wasn’t going to be happy.

      “I need to make a call,” she said, then excused herself.

      Once she was in the hall, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

      “Hi, it’s Pia,” she said.

      Colleen was a woman of a certain age—only no one knew exactly what age that was. She was a hard-drinking, chain-smoking newspaper woman who didn’t believe in chitchat and had never met an adjective she didn’t want eliminated.

      “What do you want?” Colleen snapped.

      Pia sucked in a breath. Talking fast was essential. “A full page tomorrow and Friday. Saturday we’re going to be collecting donations for the school that burned down. For a new school and supplies.”

      Damn. Talking to Colleen always made her nervous. The worst part was the other woman didn’t have to say anything to get Pia feeling frantic.

      “The kids will be going up to the camp while the burned-out school is repaired. They’ll need everything from books to pencils to toilet paper. I have a list. Money donations are fine, too.”

      “Of course they are. Anything else? How about a kidney? I was told I have two. You want I should cut that out and send it along?”

      Pia leaned against the wall. “It’s for the children.”

      “I’m not competing in any beauty pageant. I don’t have to give a fig about kids or world peace.”

      There was a long pause. Pia heard the other woman exhaling smoke.

      “Get me the material in fifteen minutes and I’ll do it. Otherwise, forget it.”

      “Thanks, Colleen,” Pia said, already running for the fax machine on the second floor.

      She made the deadline with eighteen seconds to spare. When the copy and the list of needed supplies had gone through the fax machine, Pia returned to the meeting only to find out they hadn’t actually been as busy as she had.

      “Charity, is there any chance you’ve seen Raoul’s butt?” Gladys asked hopefully. “Could you get a comparison?”

      Pia sank into her seat. “Yes, Charity. You should ask Raoul for a private showing, and I’d like to be in the room when you do.”

      Charity rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen his butt, I’m not going to ask to see it. As far as I’m concerned, Josh is perfection, and that can’t be improved upon.”

      “You’re his wife,” Gladys grumbled. “You have to say that.”

      Marsha rose from her chair. “Debating which of our two celebrity athletes is more attractive can be a thrilling way to pass an hour. However, we still have things to discuss. Pia, you got the ad?”

      “Yes. Colleen will run the time, the list and all the contact information tomorrow and Friday. I’ll get the phone tree up and running tonight. We’ll set up tables for those who want to host a bake sale or whatever. The usual stuff.”

      Marsha passed her a paper. “Here are the local businesses that will be providing drinks and snacks. I told them not to deliver before eight on Saturday.” She glanced around the table. “I would be grateful if those of you with a close and personal relationship with God spoke to Him about the weather. Warm and sunny on Saturday would be best.”

      Gladys looked shocked at the request, but everyone else laughed.

      Marsha sat back in her seat. “There’s one other item I need to discuss. I was hoping it wouldn’t be an issue, but no such luck. I realize that when compared with the unexpected fire that destroyed the school, this will seem small and unimportant. However, it is going to impact our town and we have to be prepared.”

      Pia glanced at Charity, who shrugged. Apparently Marsha hadn’t talked to her granddaughter about the mystery element.

      “A few of you may remember Tiffany Hatcher,” Marsha said. “She was a graduate student who came to Fool’s Gold in the spring. Her field of study is human geography. As in why people settle where they do, why they move, etc.”

      Pia vaguely remembered a petite, pretty young woman who had been very interested in Josh. As he’d only had eyes for Charity, nothing had come of her flirting.

      “I tried to delicately discourage her from writing about the town, but I wasn’t successful,” Marsha continued. “Her thesis is being published. She called to let me know there is a chapter on Fool’s Gold. Specifically about the ongoing shortage of men. She has sent out excerpts of the chapter to many media outlets and there has been, as she so happily put it, interest.”

      “No,” Chief Barns said forcefully. “I’m not going to have a bunch of media types mucking up my town and parking where they’re not supposed to. Isn’t there enough real news in the world without them paying attention to us?”

      Pia’s thoughts exactly. But she had a bad feeling that a town with a man shortage would be exactly the right kind of story to capture a lot of attention.

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