Nate felt fractional relief. “You should have been a lawyer rather than an accountant.”
His colleague laughed lightly. “They don’t have a tax season. Who’d want to miss that? Here’s Jonni.”
An attractive woman in her mid-fifties wearing a dark skirt and matching jacket ran from a silver compact at the curb to the office door. Nate held it open for her. She was the workplace counterpart of Stella, without whom nothing would function smoothly. She had bright blue eyes, silky blond hair and an easy, efficient manner that had saved him more than once.
She handed him the bakery box and a tub of cocoa mix with one hand, and took his briefcase with the other. “Go,” she said. “Karen and I’ll bring in the coffee and water. Your committee notes are on your chair at the conference table.”
“You’re a treasure,” he told her.
“Yeah, yeah.” She disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen as Nate carried the appeasing doughnuts into the conference room.
The previous renter, a law firm, had had a nautical bent, and the walls of the room were decorated with ship’s wheels, navigation charts and paintings of ships. The pictures made him think of Bobbie and the bright artwork on her walls. These pieces seemed suddenly pale and staid in comparison.
The five people around the table greeted him with pointed verbal abuse.
“Just because you’ve recently adopted two children, don’t think you can keep us waiting.” Sandy Evans, who worked for his attorney and was in charge of developing concepts for the fund-raiser, harassed everyone with equal fervor. “I mean, one of them is ten years old. I have two under five and I was here on time. And I don’t have the luxury of meeting in my office.”
“Go easy on him.” Jerry Gold was the shop teacher at the high school. He was very tall and reedy and wore a University of Oregon jersey over jeans. His wife had given birth to their first baby in August. “He probably got to sleep in and had trouble getting moving. I mean, I haven’t slept in weeks, so it was easy for me to be on time.”
“And I came from across the river.” Clarissa Burke had a fashion boutique in Long Beach, Washington, and one in Astoria. She was a white-haired woman who was the epitome of grace and style—even after her husband left her for one of her young sales associates. “And you’ll see that I—”
Nate put the doughnuts in the middle of the table. “I know. You probably braved pirates to get here in a leaking kayak you had to drag across the river the last mile with a length of rope in your teeth. Right?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “It was a length of leather,” she corrected, “and I was still here on time.”
“And remarkably dry.” Mike Wallis owned the building and The Cellar, a wine shop in the basement, under Nate’s office. He was small in stature but big in ideas.
“I’m just saying,” Clarissa added pointedly, “that punctuality is important in small-town service. There are less of us to do more work, so it’s a good thing if we don’t hold each other up. Your brother understood that.”
Even Sandy groaned at the comment. “Clarie, he’s a bachelor with two little boys and no parenthood experience. Cut him some slack.”
Nate gave Sandy a grateful smile. He wanted to shout at Clarissa that he’d had one hell of a morning, and that while he wished more than anything that Ben were still here, he hated the comparisons to him because he’d always felt that he’d never measured up to his older brother. It was Ben who’d made the skills Nate did have work for the business.
Instead, remembering what he told the boys to do when they’d been misjudged or misunderstood, he fought for patience. He nodded politely to the older woman. “You’re absolutely right. I won’t be late again.”
At that moment, Jonni and Karen carried in thermal pots of coffee and hot water, a stack of white, diner-style plates and cups, and paper napkins.
“Perfect.” Nate smiled his thanks.
The two disappeared quickly, closing the door behind them.
After doughnuts were selected and beverages poured, Clarissa, the committee’s chairwoman, started the meeting. For all the group’s frivolity, the items on the agenda were efficiently worked through one by one. By ten o’clock they’d decided to do several small projects throughout the fall to accommodate all the groups who wanted to help, culminating with one formal event with a Christmas in Old Astoria theme.
“How formal?” Jerry asked worriedly.
Sandy made a broad gesture, apparently seeing the picture in her head. “You know, something really classy. Something upstairs in the Banker’s Suite.”
“So, dinner and dancing?” Clarissa asked.
The Banker’s Suite occupied the second floor of a former bank built in the Greek Revival style. The upstairs had been remodeled in grand fashion for weddings and other special events.
“Yes, but maybe with a raffle—some special items that’ll really get attention. What do you think?”
A skeptical look went around the table. Clarissa shook her head. “Those twenty-dollar raffles are a thing of the past these days.”
“I know. Bad economy. But what if the tickets were five dollars instead of twenty? People who can afford them will buy several, and people who can’t will buy just one.”
“What special items do you have in mind?” Jerry asked. “I can probably get tickets to the Mariners.” He waggled his eyebrows. “My father-in-law has connections, and he’s crazy about his new grandson. Thinks I’m quite brilliant.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. “Lydia carried this baby for nine months, gave birth after what was probably a grueling labor if the baby takes after you sizewise, and you’re taking credit for him?”
Jerry grinned unabashedly. “I am.”
Clarissa joined him. “You do have to admit that season tickets are a brilliant idea. And that is one beautiful baby. I’ll contribute several items in a winter wardrobe. And my daughter is a jewelry designer in Palm Springs. I’m sure she’ll send us something.”
Sandy applauded. “Okay. You guys are on fire! Except for you, Jerry. You’re just kind of full of smoke. Nate, what can you get us?”
“A couple of free tax returns? I won’t even stipulate that they have to be simple.”
“Wonderful. We all know what getting taxes done costs these days.” She turned to Mike. “Can we count on you for a couple of gourmet baskets and wine?”
“Of course.”
“Great. So what have we left undone?”
Clarissa looked over her notes. “Not much. We’re agreed that we’ll have a series of small events so that all the groups that want to help us can. The high school kids are having a car wash and bake sale. The grade school kids are selling candy. The Astoria Coffee House and the Urban Café are contributing half the proceeds from a particular weekend to the cause. And the Downtown Association has agreed to devote a Saturday from noon to five
