Fundraising the Dead

by Connolly, Sheila

  I would have sat down, since my knees were a bit wobbly, but I didn’t have a chair at the table. Luckily, Marty stepped forward and resumed command—for now.

  “Welcome aboard, Nell. You know you can call on all of us to help you, and we know that, no matter what, you have the best interests of the Society at heart.”

  She looked around the table again. “Well, I think we’ve done enough for today. I’ll be in touch about the next meeting—we can’t afford to wait until the quarterly meeting to address a lot of these issues, but I think we can relax. Go home and try to figure out what’s happened, and how we can keep it from happening again. And we’ll deal with whatever publicity comes along, and the fallout from it. Thank you all for coming on short notice. This meeting is adjourned.”

  There was a moment of stillness, and then people stood and began gathering their belongings. About half of them approached me, shook my hand, promised to help however they could. I could sense their relief. I nodded, smiled, said things I’d never remember. Time enough to sort things out later—right now I had to avoid looking like a scared rabbit—I needed to project confidence and assurance. I was in charge; they’d said so. That would take getting used to.

  Finally everyone had straggled out, and only Marty was left. I didn’t know whether to hug her or kick her.

  “You sandbagged me, you know,” I said.

  “You handled it beautifully. I knew you would. Admit it—you’re happy about it, right?”

  I grinned grudgingly. “I think I will be, when I have a chance to think about it. How did you sell the board on me?”

  “Nell, don’t put yourself down. You’ve done a good job here, and, as I said, people trust you. We need continuity, stability more than anything else right now, and you can provide that. You’ve got more common sense than most of the staff and half the board. And you really do care about this place. You’re the best choice, and the board agrees. Don’t worry about the long run—this is temporary, but you do a good job, you’ll be around for a while. Madame President—I like it.”

  “One more thing, Marty. I think as my first official act I’d like to establish the Alfred Findley Memorial Fund for Collections Management. I think you’ll be making a substantial contribution to it.”

  “Fair enough. Now let’s go celebrate!”