fundraiser sorely needed.
In other years, the arrangements for the charity ball had been carried out virtually the same year after year. Always held on Christmas Eve at the plush Claymore Hotel in Charleston, it had become a sedate, boring affair peopled by ladies in designer gowns and men in tuxedos. Unfortunately, just days ago and without any warning, their regular planner had retired. If, before he’d retired, the old caterer had let Jonathan know that the hotel they normally used was booked, he wouldn’t have had to move the festivities to the Lodge by the Lake just outside Carson. All these unexpected problems had left Jonathan with a plethora of last minute managerial details with which to contend. He shrugged. Perhaps fate was signaling the time had come for change. Perhaps—
“Jonathan, I must remind you—” His father’s voice cut into his thoughts. “—with the economic picture for charitable organizations looking so bleak these days, there’s a chance that the gala may not do well again. If that happens, coupled with the fact that the last two years have not been stellar, the board has advised me that they will be looking at dissolving the foundation.”
The Vanessa Prince Foundation had been Jonathan’s mother’s pet project. She started it to fund homes for abused women right after her sister died at the hands of her abusive husband. As the years went by, they’d branched out into funding other charities. If Jonathan failed, and it had to be dissolved, it would be as if his mother had died again—and as before, it would be his fault.
Pushing aside the bad memories that clung to him like unwanted cobwebs, he frowned and combed his fingers through his hair. “I know about the threat to dissolve the foundation. They discussed it at length at the last board meeting.” While he absently spun a letter opener on the polished desk top, he glanced at his father’s stern expression. Slamming his hand atop the opener, Jonathan stopped its dizzying spiral. “How can they even consider—the foundation does immeasurable good—” He cut his sputtering frustrated outburst short.
He was no stranger to the rules of this game. His mother had seen to it that her system of checks and balances included the board having final say in the governing of the foundation. That included deciding on its financial stability and effectiveness as well as its continuation.
“The foundation has been operating very close to the edge for too long.” His father straightened in his chair and lowered a serious look at his son. “Harry Townsend tells me they’re holding off on any decisions until after this year’s event.”
Jonathan didn’t see that he had any other choice. “Very well.” He waved the party planner’s business card at the two people smiling boldly at him. “I’ll call this woman and add her company to the list. But I want to talk to the owner.” He glanced at the card. “This Miranda Cameron. Bad enough I’m going into this with the threat of dissolution hanging over me, I won’t work with an assistant as I’ve done in previous years. I can’t take the chance of this not going well. I plan to be hands-on.”
Despite his words, the glaring date on his desk calendar told him, because of all the delays, the change of venue and the loss of his regular event planner, he only had weeks to make this gala a success and didn’t have the luxury of being too choosey.
Chapter 2
ANDREA CAMERON threw the deadbolt into place, slipped her house key into her purse, and then laid the purse on a small table beside the door. She hadn’t been this tired since she’d decided to build a rock garden in her backyard last summer.
Because she’d had a dentist appointment yesterday, she’d just spent her entire Sunday afternoon packing books and supplies in boxes and moving them from her kindergarten classroom to the gymnasium so the janitors could paint over the holidays. Now, she was ready to start a
In other years, the arrangements for the charity ball had been carried out virtually the same year after year. Always held on Christmas Eve at the plush Claymore Hotel in Charleston, it had become a sedate, boring affair peopled by ladies in designer gowns and men in tuxedos. Unfortunately, just days ago and without any warning, their regular planner had retired. If, before he’d retired, the old caterer had let Jonathan know that the hotel they normally used was booked, he wouldn’t have had to move the festivities to the Lodge by the Lake just outside Carson. All these unexpected problems had left Jonathan with a plethora of last minute managerial details with which to contend. He shrugged. Perhaps fate was signaling the time had come for change. Perhaps—
“Jonathan, I must remind you—” His father’s voice cut into his thoughts. “—with the economic picture for charitable organizations looking so bleak these days, there’s a chance that the gala may not do well again. If that happens, coupled with the fact that the last two years have not been stellar, the board has advised me that they will be looking at dissolving the foundation.”
The Vanessa Prince Foundation had been Jonathan’s mother’s pet project. She started it to fund homes for abused women right after her sister died at the hands of her abusive husband. As the years went by, they’d branched out into funding other charities. If Jonathan failed, and it had to be dissolved, it would be as if his mother had died again—and as before, it would be his fault.
Pushing aside the bad memories that clung to him like unwanted cobwebs, he frowned and combed his fingers through his hair. “I know about the threat to dissolve the foundation. They discussed it at length at the last board meeting.” While he absently spun a letter opener on the polished desk top, he glanced at his father’s stern expression. Slamming his hand atop the opener, Jonathan stopped its dizzying spiral. “How can they even consider—the foundation does immeasurable good—” He cut his sputtering frustrated outburst short.
He was no stranger to the rules of this game. His mother had seen to it that her system of checks and balances included the board having final say in the governing of the foundation. That included deciding on its financial stability and effectiveness as well as its continuation.
“The foundation has been operating very close to the edge for too long.” His father straightened in his chair and lowered a serious look at his son. “Harry Townsend tells me they’re holding off on any decisions until after this year’s event.”
Jonathan didn’t see that he had any other choice. “Very well.” He waved the party planner’s business card at the two people smiling boldly at him. “I’ll call this woman and add her company to the list. But I want to talk to the owner.” He glanced at the card. “This Miranda Cameron. Bad enough I’m going into this with the threat of dissolution hanging over me, I won’t work with an assistant as I’ve done in previous years. I can’t take the chance of this not going well. I plan to be hands-on.”
Despite his words, the glaring date on his desk calendar told him, because of all the delays, the change of venue and the loss of his regular event planner, he only had weeks to make this gala a success and didn’t have the luxury of being too choosey.
Chapter 2
ANDREA CAMERON threw the deadbolt into place, slipped her house key into her purse, and then laid the purse on a small table beside the door. She hadn’t been this tired since she’d decided to build a rock garden in her backyard last summer.
Because she’d had a dentist appointment yesterday, she’d just spent her entire Sunday afternoon packing books and supplies in boxes and moving them from her kindergarten classroom to the gymnasium so the janitors could paint over the holidays. Now, she was ready to start a
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