href="#u69edb750-883b-5f87-a2f1-9c49b1d6bcf6">CHAPTER NINE
“YOU’RE NOT GOING to believe this.” Paige Clayton tossed an innocuous-looking envelope on top of the piles of paper on her cluttered desk. As the executive director of Open Arms Women’s Advocacy Center, she had more on her plate than all the overpaid CEOs in the Windy City.
An unwelcomed feeling of dread hit Lucy Everhart as she reached for the letter.
“We’ve had an anonymous donor offer to pay all our bills and pledge an extra million dollars to our cause?” She knew better, but a girl could dream. As Paige’s second in command, Lucy wore many hats. Her official title was Director of Legal Affairs, but Lucy also worked as one of the counselors at Safe Haven, Open Arms’s temporary shelter for women and their children. She gave much of her time to outreach and fund-raising as well, which was most likely why Paige had called her in today.
Paige let out a heavy sigh. “I wish.”
Times were tough, and Open Arms was suffering the consequences of the country’s economic downturn. Government funding had been cut drastically over the past couple of years, and private donations were at their lowest in the center’s history. Less money came in while more women knocked down the door. It wasn’t surprising that abuse increased as a result of rising unemployment rates. Money troubles triggered tempers like nothing else.
Lucy slid the letter out of the envelope. It didn’t take long for her face to flush red with anger. “Are they serious?”
“These people want to meet to discuss our ‘bottom line.’”
This was all part of a conspiracy to run Open Arms out of the up-and-coming Logan Square neighborhood, where Safe Haven was located. The gentrification of that area had pushed out many who had lived there. Older places were being torn down in favor of fancy new condominiums and expensive single family homes. The new neighbors weren’t happy about having a women’s shelter on their block. Someone had bent the ear of a certain alderman; Lucy was sure of it.
Two months ago, the City of Chicago cut its funding to Open Arms. That money had been going to pay the mortgage on the seven-bedroom house they had acquired before the neighborhood had become such a hot spot. Lucy had projected that they’d have to give up the house or make some drastic cuts elsewhere if they didn’t get more money soon.
“We can convince the board that we’ll be able to cover the mortgage through the winter for sure. We’ll need to get creative around March.” Lucy began to pace. She thought better—clearer—when she was on the move. “We’ll promote the heck out of this year’s Hope and Healing fund-raiser.”
“We know what to expect from the Hope and Healing fund-raiser. It won’t be enough,” Paige lamented.
“We’ll come up with ways to make it bigger and better. Plus, the holidays always bring in lots of donations. People feel the most charitable between Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Most of those donations aren’t monetary. We get blankets and shampoo. People clean out their closets and give us their clothes and toys.”
“We won’t let anyone take what’s ours.” Lucy threw the letter back on Paige’s desk.
“They don’t want to take it. They want to buy it.” Paige held her head in her hands. “Maybe we call an appraiser and see what the house is worth.”
“Don’t even go there,” Lucy warned. “We are not going to think the worst before we even attempt to fight. Let’s meet with the board, light a fire under them to appeal to their connections and find donations. I’m not giving up. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s fight to win.”
When Lucy took up a cause, she did so with the intention of seeing it through. She had shut down puppy mills and rallied to give workers their fair pay. She’d helped clean up neighborhoods and build playgrounds.
Life was short. People had a limited amount of time on the planet. Their objective should be to leave the world a better place than they found it. Lucy worried she had less time than most, so she dedicated her time and energy to any cause she found worthwhile. Open Arms was her favorite. She wasn’t going to let it fail.
“You’re right,” Paige said, sitting up and squaring her shoulders. She tucked her black, pin-straight hair behind her ears. In her midfifties, Paige resembled Isabella Rossellini with her dark hair and hazel eyes. She was dedicated to Open Arms, forgoing any kind of personal life. Lucy knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight. “That’s why I called you. You’re my rock.”
Lucy smiled. Her sisters, Kendall and Emma, referred to her as that, as well. Whenever they were on the verge of some sort of emotional breakdown, it was Lucy’s clear head they sought out.
A
