Page 61 of Definitely (Maybe) Dating
September had arrived, and Mother Nature was showing off. The peonies were in full bloom, the sky was a brilliant blue, but Piper was a complete wreck. Even before she was called to make her case, she’d begun sweating in uncomfortable places.
The day after tomorrow was the final meeting for the Ladies of Portland before Bid for the Cause, and Piper had been invited to present her idea. Only two slides into her fifteen-page presentation, which she’d compiled in an effort to sway the board, and Margo was already poo-pooing the idea of partnering with Urban Soul. And she was taking board members with her.
This was one of the reasons Piper hadn’t wanted to face down Satan’s Keeper at the last location the two had sparred. While Darcy owned the venue, Margo acted as if it were her private garden, even directing the staff while they passed out samples for the tasting. Darcy had pointed out that Belle Mont was better than Margo’s house, where the old bat would’ve had the home court advantage.
But Piper had a secret weapon. Her handsome, hard-packed muscle plus-one, who’d unexpectedly shown. He was seated to her left, so close she could smell his fierce protectiveness and so stoic that everyone knew whose side he was on.
The gesture was moving and romantic. He’d promised her he’d come through, but never in a million years did she imagine that, with a seat available right next to his mom, he’d pull up a chair next to Piper.
“It’s moving way too fast,” Margo said. She was dressed in white linen slacks, a classic mauve button-up, and a clunky gold necklace. She was starched, refined, and shooting Piper the eye. “We already have the event planned, right down to the last detail.”
Piper thought back to the advice Josh had given her earlier about how to state her case in a way that made it difficult for the prosecution to rebut. “I can only imagine how much work y’all have put into the event, which is why I’m not asking you to change a thing.”
“You’re not?” Kitty asked.
“No, ma’am,” Piper said, hearing her accent slip again. She glanced at Josh, who sent her the merest ghost of a smile, igniting those silly tingles. More than that, it calmed her nerves, made her feel as if she wasn’t alone. “All I’m asking is that you allow me to use the conservatory as a gallery to display art from local artists.”
“I was promised that the conservatory would be open for guests to wander through during the appetizer part of the evening,” Margo said.
“They will,” Darcy said, sitting on Piper’s right. Next to her was Jillian, who said she had a voice in the matter since she’d volunteered to make mini bunt cakes for the event. Their support was a bit overwhelming and intimidating. It had been so long since Piper had had a good and loyal friend, she’d forgotten what that kind of sisterly bond felt like. And it felt great. “In fact, I think Urban Soul will add a fresh, youthful feel that will appeal to the next generation of bidders.”
“Wandering?” Margo blanched. “When my family started this charity twenty-five years ago, there was no wandering. There was a specific goal, which we met every time. Do you know how?”
“No, ma’am.” But Piper suspected she was about to learn.
“By maintaining focus on the important things. It’s easy to get distracted, be pulled in other, flashier, directions.” Her gaze landed on Josh. “If we get pulled in too many directions, we lose our effectiveness.” She put her hand to her chest. “At least, that’s what my Benji would have said.”
“Maybe a fresh take is exactly what this organization needs,” Kitty said, and Piper knew they were no longer talking about the fundraiser. “We’ve been operating under the same stale ideals and agenda for years, rendering us nearly irrelevant.”
All eyes landed on Margo, of stale and irrelevant ideals. The woman’s face went red, and her eyes went a little too misty for Piper’s liking. And while Piper would rather chew on manure than side with Margo, she was a sucker for the underdog. And right then, Kitty was coming after Margo, partly because of Piper.
“Nothing that has raised has much money for the community as this organization could ever be seen as irrelevant,” Piper said gently, meeting Margo’s gaze. “And merging the two events will be a way to honor tradition while embracing the problems that young people face.”
“The number of younger attendees has gone up over the past few years,” Ms. Dalton, the oldest and most respected Ladies of Portland member, said. She was also the senior adviser to the board, so her opinion was golden. Winning her vote would ensure that other members would side in Urban Soul’s favor.
“They rarely bid because it’s the same old stuffy items,” Kitty went on. “Plus, as a local artist myself, I feel inclined to support other artists.”
“And isn’t that what this is about? Supporting others. I mean, look at this.” Piper clicked to the next slide, which was shown on a monitor that Gage had brought into the conservatory.
She looked at the photo facing the room, which showed a stunning sidewalk art of the underside of the bridge crossing the Columbia River, the cement piles speckled with glimpses of tagging art and the waters beyond. The whole piece was drawn as if captured through a fisheye camera lens, compressing the top and elongating the sides, as if looking through a peephole.
“This is the work of a fifteen-year-old girl, Samantha, who only started drawing last year. She’s a junior in high school and comes to our after-school program three days a week. And the photograph was taken by Clive Kessler.”
At the mention of the famous photographer, impressed murmurs came from the table. Clive wasn’t only known in artist circles, he was one of the most revered landscape photographers on the west coast—he was also Piper’s mentor.
Confidence bubbling that maybe she could pull this off, she flipped to the next slide. “This is a spray paint art titled,Cinderella’s a Lie. The artist is sixteen and, with no formal training, she’s likely the most talented person in the program.”
Every time she looked at that photo, that euphoric feeling in her chest, which always appeared when looking at beautiful art, began to warm. She had to make this happen. Those girls were counting on her. Rebecca was too good to be passed over, and Piper refused to be another person who let her down. “Rebecca got lost in the foster system until Skye’s the Limit stepped in.”
She felt Josh’s eyes on her but refused to look his way. It had been four days since anyone had heard for Rebecca and Piper was starting to get worried. Just talking about the teen’s art made Piper want to cry. Josh must have sensed her sadness, because he rested his hand on her knee beneath the table and gave it a little squeeze.
Piper placed her hand on top of Josh’s and squeezed back.
“Is that vandalism?” one of Margo’s minions asked. “It looks like vandalism.”
There were a collective “Uh huhs” and “It does”, and Piper was certain her boat was sinking.
“I’m sure Piper can set our minds at ease,” Margo said, and Piper felt her forehead start to glisten. Margo would spray paint a Mercedes if it meant getting her way. The only reason she would let someone defend their case, especially Piper, was if she thought she’d already won the argument. The woman had an ace up her linen cuffed sleeve, and that made Piper nervous.
