Page 32 of Running
All three of them, really four of them if you include Susie, are impeccably dressed and have every piece of hair accounted for, no flyaways in the house.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say. I’m grateful I wore my favorite suit today, a peach combo with three-quarter length sleeves and an A-line skirt. One that my mother bought for me on a shopping trip together two years ago.
“Aren’t you lovely?” Mrs. Blunt says.
“And a Princeton graduate at Tolliver Business School now,” Susie interjects. “We’re lucky to have her.”
The other ladies nod and hum in approval.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Susie hands out a sheet with all the RSVPs to-date. Our agenda is to report on the responses and then turn to the donations.
Suddenly, behind me, I hear the sound of the meeting room door opening. And a familiar voice follows.
“Good morning, ladies. I’m sorry I’m late.”
I turn fully around, and there’s Johnson. Looking every bit like the NFL star that has girls screaming in excitement to see him. His thick hair is damp like he just took a shower, his Waves t-shirt shows off his every muscle, and his athletic shorts have the perfect fit, allowing me to admire his strong legs, thigh to calf.
Abuzz of anticipation shoots through me, like an electrical wire just flipped on.
Whoa.Did he change my body chemistry during our conversation last week?
As soon as that thought passes over me, his eyes hit mine, a light shining through. And I try to accept my body’s response to him instead of fighting it.
“Hi, Grace.” He waits for a beat, eyes stuck on me, and then walks in.
Susie stands up as he enters the room. “Johnson, I didn’t expect you to come. But we’re glad you’re here.”
He tilts his head in her direction, taking the empty seat next to me. “Grace’s been working hard, and I know it’s her first meeting. I wanted to come to support.”
I notice the ladies look at each other with a mix of glee and suspicion.Uh oh. What’s going through their minds?
“Well, that’s awful nice of you to want to come and—support—Grace,” Mrs. Blunt says and then smiles at me.
Susie, thankfully, doesn’t let the meeting get sidetracked by Johnson’s arrival. “Indeed. Okay, let’s start reviewing the VIPs who have RSVP’d. Grace, can you go through them?”
I begin listing off the names of the local celebrities and other influential people who have said they’re attending. When I’m done, the co-chairs pepper Susie and me about a few other people.
“Ellen Crissler?” Laurel Soyer asks, and I shake my head. “I’ll follow up with her. She better say yes. I went to three of her awful fundraisers in the last eighteen months.”
“I know that Thompson Smith came last year—he’s not responded either?” Margaret Houston inquiries about a prominent real estate agent in the area. “He has a box for the Waves season. I’ll get Rich to call him.”
“I can call him, too, if you think that would help,” Johnson volunteers.
“Oh, yes, that would work wonders,” Margaret agrees.
After about a dozen new names, they seem to run out ofideas. Susie turns the conversation to donations, again passing the proverbial mic to me to go over the details.
“We’ve been able to confirm with about eighty percent of our regular donors that they’re willing to continue again this year.” The ladies look pleased with that metric, and I continue. “On top of that, we have several new donations.”
I list some of the new items that Susie and I’ve been able to secure through our different efforts. Then, since Johnson’s present, I decide to let him share his own updates.
“Johnson, you’ve brought in some great items too, from the players and otherwise. Would you like to go through them briefly?”
“Absolutely.” He then proceeds to outline the various donations he’s pulled together.
Mrs. Blunt is the first to speak after he finishes his list, a wide grin on her face. “This is simply wonderful, you two. This might be the best set of items we’ve ever had.”
“And I’m not done,” I promise. “I’ll keep at it until the end.”
