Page 20 of Forget Me

When I walked back in, Natalie and Larissa had their heads together, peering at something on Larissa’s laptop screen.

“See? I told you the country club would work,” Larissa said. “It’s got all the space we need.”

“Sure. It’s a little generic, but we can dress it up with flowers. Great job getting something on such short notice,” Natalie said.

Larissa’s lips pinched, but she nodded. “We can update our contract with the florist. Miriam will take care of that. She excels at administrative tasks.”

I shouldn’t have minded. After all, I was just the financial volunteer for the foundation and, by extension, the gala. And I’d do whatever it took to pull off the gala. Still, my chest tightened.

Natalie glanced at me. “I bet you’d like some of the creative parts, too, Mimi. Want to help me pick out the food? It’ll be tough to find a caterer on such short notice, but the sampling part will be fun.”

Warmth reignited inside me. Finally, a chance to contribute something meaningful. “Sure. Do you have any ideas?”

She slid a paper to me. “I have quotes from five caterers. Are these in the right range?”

I glanced at the numbers. All but one were within my projected budget. “The first one is a bit high, but the rest look okay.”

One corner of her mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile, making her look like her brother. “I think I can sweet-talk them into the right number if we like them the best. I’d rather not eliminate them yet.”

“That’s fair. I know we need to put on a quality party, but we also need to keep expenses down so the money goes to the kids.”

Natalie grinned. “Well-fed donors are happy. And generous.”

“Is their generosity positively correlated to the amount of food?” My math joke landed with a splat. Both women looked at me blankly. “I mean, if we double the food order, maybe they’d be doubly generous.”

Natalie flashed me a weak smile. “Actually, people spend more time networking at these things than eating. But they like the food to be pretty.”

“Okay. I don’t know how good I am at picking out pretty food for rich people to ignore, but I’ll try it.”

Larissa’s ash-blond eyebrows pinched together. “I need you to take this seriously, Miriam. This gala is important to the foundation.”

“Of course!” I tried to gather words. “I’ll give it one hundred percent of my attention.” Which wasn’t absolutely true. I needed at least one percent of my attention to stand up and move around. Another five percent to eat and maintain hygiene. And at least forty percent for my actual job upstairs. But Larissa didn’t seem to understand numbers.

Which was why she needed me. Even if she wished she didn’t.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty to be one of the deckhands Jackson had called for. I stood a better chance of advancing if I kept my head down and churned out numbers.

Working on the gala was a risk. If it was a success, Jackson would know I’d helped. And with his support, Larissa would have a hard time denying my application to the assistant director position. But if we screwed up the gala, Larissa would make me her scapegoat, and it would be easy for her to carry through her threat of ensuring I’d be turned away from work at any other charitable foundation.

Risk wasn’t my thing. It was why I’d become an accountant in the first place. Every company needed accountants. The money was good, and employment was stable.

But stable wasn’t enough anymore. I wanted something more. Fulfillment. A sense of doing good in the world. Of helping kids.

I glanced at Larissa again. Her forehead still pinched. Then I caught Natalie’s hopeful smile, so much like her brother’s.

“I won’t let you down,” I promised.

Natalie hugged me. “It’s going to be great. With your money smarts and my eye for design and Larissa’s”—she swallowed—“leadership, we can’t fail.”

“Members of the committee will have responsibilities the night of the gala. Miriam, you’ll need to dress…appropriately.” Larissa’s cold blue gaze tracked from my end-of-the-workday frizzy hair to my billowing black tunic and shapeless black slacks.

“I’m sure she has something to wear,” Natalie said in a rush. “Or…or I can take you shopping! That’ll be so much fun!”

Designer clothing and handbags weren’t my thing—accountant, remember?—but I knew for a fact the bag Natalie had slung so carelessly onto the table cost in the four figures. A shopping trip with Natalie Jones sounded spendy and humiliating.

“I’ve got something to wear,” I lied. Ben would help me. He was always offering to make me over. I wouldn’t let him do that, but he could help me find an evening gown that didn’t cost more than my rent.

“Great!” Natalie clapped her hands. Her phone buzzed on the table, and she scanned it. “Anything else we need to go over today? My brother’s here to pick me up.”

---