Page 10 of The Great Maple Mistake

Before Finn can mention his overfed condition, I jump in. “Good. And good timing. Since you’re a bit early, I’d like to ask you about something.”

She shrugs. “Alright. Shoot.”

“I’m helping the firehouse with a new fundraiser.”

She gives a little pout. “Aww. I love the spaghetti dinner they have every year.”

I wave her off before she can get going. “No worries. This is in addition to the other fundraisers they already do. The chief is letting me experiment with this one.”

She lifts her eyebrows, holding my gaze as she takes a seat. “Ohhhh. Now I’m curious.”

“The chief agreed to let me try a firefighter calendar.”

Her eyes sparkle, and her lips twitch like she’s trying not to grin. “Really? Like the sexy kind where the firefighters are shirtless and muscly, holding puppies and kittens?”

That stops me. I hadn’t considered puppies and kittens, but it’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s an excellent thought. “Finn, do you think we could contact some of your patients’ owners to see if we could borrow their pets for a photo shoot?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I could also put something at the front desk, inviting people to let us know if they’d be interested.” He holds up a hand, stopping me. “Without guaranteeing their fur babies would be chosen to participate.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I refocus on Brie. “Anyway, I’m doing this photo shoot, and I’m donating my time to take the pictures andarrange the calendar. What I can’t cover myself are the printing costs. So I’m looking for sponsors from our local businesses.”

Her brow furrows, and she tilts her head. “You mean like donations?”

“No. Sorry. I’m not explaining this well. What I mean is getting businesses to buy ad space. I’m not sure how we’re going to do the layout yet, but it could be an ad on the page with the firefighter, or there could be extra front or back pages with coupons. I’ve even seen ones with tear-off portions under the monthly calendar part. I suppose it’ll depend on how many businesses I can get to participate.”

She nods, considering. “I like it. It’s local, fun, and depending on how it’s laid out, we could have eyes on our ad for an entire month. How much?”

“Small is $250. A Large is $500. The entire width of the calendar would be around $1000, based on that. You just gave me the idea, so I’ll have to verify my numbers on the full monthly ad space and get back to you if you’re interested.”

“I am. Definitely call down to the farm once you get that worked out. I want the calendar width.”

Her eagerness and surety stirs my excitement. If I can sell entire months for $1000, we’ll definitely cover the printing costs. And if we get more participating businesses than months, we can add pages at the back. Or do an eighteen-month calendar.

Finn shakes my arm and snaps me out of my brainstorming. “Slow down there, buddy. I can see your brain going a mile a minute. How about we focus on tonight’s meeting and worry about the calendar tomorrow?”

Shit. He’s right. “Yeah, good idea. One fundraiser at a time.”

Conall Kelly strolls into the meeting room, all swagger and charm. “Evening all.” He grins at Finn, giving him a once-over. “No scrubs tonight, Doc?” His eyes land on the Phish shirt, andhis lip quirks up at the corner. “Nice.” Conall’s a handsome guy in his late twenties or early thirties. He’s average height and build, though there’s not an ounce of fat on him that I’ve seen. Not that I’ve seen much. Other than him in his form-fitting work T-shirts and black pants that hug his ass and thighs. Yes, I’ve noticed. Sue me.

His hazel eyes sparkle like he knows what I was thinking, and I feel my cheeks heat. Winking, he drags his fingers through his short, wavy, auburn hair, flexing his bicep a bit. He’s definitely showing off, but I don’t take his antics personally. He has a reputation for being a flirt. I guess that’s to be expected when you supplement your salary with tips. “I return to the committee with good news.”

With that proclamation, a little of my stress eases. “Great! We’re waiting for Bo, Mickey, and Jo. Then we can get started.”

“I’m here!” Jo Lambert hurries in, her purple chiffon skirt and long hair billowing behind her as she rushes around the table to sit across from Finn and me. She hangs her purse off the back of her chair and drops into the seat, adjusting the line of her white, button-front blouse. “Sorry, I just left work. We had a last-minute room adjustment, and I wanted to make sure the guests were happy before I skedaddled.” She glances at all of us expectantly, tucking a lock of purple-streaked brown hair behind her ear. “So we’re waiting for Bo and Mickey?”

From somewhere in the library, Mickey grumbles loudly. “I’m here. Give me a sec.” It’s immediately followed by Andre’s equally unquiet shushing. A flustered Mickey hurries into the room. He’s a little flushed, and there’s a bit of perspiration around his temples and forehead, like maybe he jogged here. “Sorry. A server showed up late, and I had to cover until they arrived.”

He drops into an empty chair, and I sit down in mine. “No worries. It’s still five minutes ’til seven, so technically you’re not late.”

I grin at him, and he huffs out a laugh. “Fantastic.”

Bo sweeps into the room. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I was at a different festival meeting, and it ran long.”

“No problem. We’re all here so let’s get started.” I open my tablet and scan my notes from our last committee meeting as Bo takes his seat. “The festival is next month. We have six weeks left and only a few loose ends to tie up. Why don’t we start with a status report and see what we have left to accomplish? If anyone needs help with something, we can decide how to proceed.” I get nods from everyone, so I start with to-do number one. “Jo, you had appliances.”

She pulls a purple pen and coordinating notebook out of her purse, flipping to the bright pink tab sticking out of the side. “So I confirmed the appliance delivery with Max Patten. He wanted me to remind you that, in exchange for his company’s appliance donations, we agreed we’d splash his name and logo all over the place during the contests and announce his contribution at the start of every division. That would be twice on Friday for the cocktail and hors d’oeuvre competitions, twice on Saturday for the breakfast and the main course competitions, and then again during the final dessert competition on Sunday afternoon.”

“Yup. It’s in the notes from the last meeting. Underscored and highlighted.” I gesture to my screen.

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