Susan Mallery Fool's Gold Series Volume One: Chasing Perfect\Almost Perfect\Sister of the Bride\Finding Perfect (86 page)

Gladys looked shocked at the request, but everyone else laughed.

Marsha sat back in her seat. “There's one other item I need to discuss. I was hoping it wouldn't be an issue, but no such luck. I realize that when compared with the unexpected fire that destroyed the school, this will seem small and unimportant. However, it is going to impact our town and we have to be prepared.”

Pia glanced at Charity, who shrugged. Apparently Marsha hadn't talked to her granddaughter about the mystery element.

“A few of you may remember Tiffany Hatcher,” Marsha said. “She was a graduate student who came to Fool's Gold in the spring. Her field of study is human
geography. As in why people settle where they do, why they move, etc.”

Pia vaguely remembered a petite, pretty young woman who had been very interested in Josh. As he'd only had eyes for Charity, nothing had come of her flirting.

“I tried to delicately discourage her from writing about the town, but I wasn't successful,” Marsha continued. “Her thesis is being published. She called to let me know there is a chapter on Fool's Gold. Specifically about the ongoing shortage of men. She has sent out excerpts of the chapter to many media outlets and there has been, as she so happily put it, interest.”

“No,” Chief Barns said forcefully. “I'm not going to have a bunch of media types mucking up my town and parking where they're not supposed to. Isn't there enough real news in the world without them paying attention to us?”

Pia's thoughts exactly. But she had a bad feeling that a town with a man shortage would be exactly the right kind of story to capture a lot of attention.

“I don't suppose telling the media we don't want them here will help,” Charity said.

“If only,” Marsha told her. “I'm afraid in the next few weeks we're going to have to deal with the problem. And not just the media, either.”

Pia stared at her boss. The mayor nodded slowly.

“When word gets out, we'll be flooded with men looking for a town full of lonely women.”

“That could be fun,” Gladys said, looking intrigued. “A few of you need a good marrying.”

Pia suspected Gladys meant her, so she was careful to stay quiet. With less than three days to pull together a massive event, getting married or even meeting men
was the last thing on her mind. And even if she wasn't so busy, considering the whole embryo issue, getting involved wasn't just unlikely, it was impossible.

* * *

S
ATURDAY MORNING DAWNED
perfectly clear. The temperatures were supposed to be in the low seventies. Apparently God had come through, Pia thought as she arrived at the park a little after seven to find work under way.

The city maintenance crew was already setting up the long tables and collection bins. Several signs had been donated by a printer, and ones that had been made by hand were sorted and in place. Pia had drawn up a floor plan of sorts, showing what would be collected where.

Her miracle phone tree had worked perfectly, and she'd heard back from over fifty people with promises of books, supplies and even cash. Liz Sutton, a Fool's Gold native and a successful author who had recently returned to settle in town, had quietly promised five thousand children's books to start the library. When Pia had offered to shout about the donation from every rooftop in town, Liz had insisted on being anonymous.

She wasn't the only one giving big. Local hero Josh Golden had already handed in a check for thirty thousand dollars, again with instructions to keep quiet about him giving it. A cashier's check for ten grand had arrived in her office the previous morning. Just a plain envelope slipped under the door. No return address and drawn on a busy Sacramento bank, so there was no way of tracing it.

Pia had turned the money over to Nancy, along with a list of what else she knew was being donated.

Now as she sipped her coffee, she went over the
events that would happen during the day. The city yard sale would begin at eight. Donations had been delivered the day before, and her volunteers were already sorting through the bounty. To keep things simple, the items would be grouped according to price, at one-, three-, five-and ten-dollar tables.

The bake sale would start at noon, giving the last-minute bakers time to get their goodies finished. The auction was at three, and Pia was still waiting on the list of what would be offered.

Throughout the day, local bands would play, the hospital was offering a mini-clinic for blood pressure checks and the high school senior class was holding a car wash. Pia was less sure about their “Naked for a Cause” theme—even though the class president had sworn that meant bathing suits, not actual nudity, but at this point, she was willing to take every dollar they raised.

By seven-thirty there was a steady stream of volunteers showing up. They checked the master directory Pia had posted and went to their assigned areas. Charity arrived fifteen minutes later, looking pale.

“Sorry I'm late,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I don't get sick in the morning much, but today was one of those days. The good news is the guys did a very nice job installing the floor tile.”

Pia winced. “You got a close look at it?”

“For nearly an hour. My knees hurt.” She pressed a hand to her midsection. “Not to mention other parts of me.” She handed Pia a folder. “The final auction info.”

“Thanks for doing this.”

“I'm happy to help. There are some great prizes.” Charity paused. “Is it a prize if you have to buy it?”

“I'm not sure.”

Pia flipped through the list. There were the usual gift cards from local restaurants and shops. She would bundle those into a couple of baskets, so the value was greater. That should up the bidding price. Ethan Hendrix had offered five thousand dollars' worth of remodeling. There were weekends in Tahoe and up at the ski resort, ski lessons, and a weekend in Dallas compliments of Raoul Moreno. His package included airfare, two nights at Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek, dinner at the hotel and two tickets to a Dallas Cowboys home game…on the fifty-yard line.

“There's some money in that prize,” Pia said, impressed by Raoul's generosity.

“I know. My eyes nearly bugged out,” Charity said. “The guy's already donating his camp. That's more than enough.”

“He's nice,” Pia said absently. “He can't help it.”

Charity laughed. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“It can be.” Although Raoul had claimed to have a dark past. Something that should have bothered her but instead made him seem more human.

“He's very good-looking,” Charity told her.

Pia looked at her friend. “Don't even go there.”

“I'm just saying he's here, he's handsome, successful, rich. I don't think he's dating anyone. He and his ex divorced a couple of years ago.”

Pia raised her eyebrows. “You've been checking up on him?”

“Oh, please. I'm with Josh.”

As if that explained everything. Which it probably did, Pia thought with only a hint of envy. It wasn't that she'd ever had a thing for Josh, it was more the way he looked at Charity that made Pia feel a little lost and sad. Josh didn't just adore his wife, he worshipped her. It was as if he'd been waiting his whole life to find her and now that he had, he was never letting her go.

Not that Pia would trust that kind of adoration, but it was nice to think about.

“I'm not interested,” she said firmly.

“How do you know? Have you spent any time with him?”

Pia wasn't ready to talk about the embryos, but the truth was getting pregnant with them would change everything. Very few men would be interested in raising someone else's kids. Especially triplets. The thought was beyond daunting. And even if there was a guy like that out there, she knew Raoul wasn't him.

“We've spoken,” Pia said. “Like I said—he's nice enough. Just not for me.”

She eyed her friend's belly. Charity was barely showing, but she knew a whole lot more about being pregnant than Pia. But asking anything, as in finding out what it really felt like, meant answering a lot of questions. Pia wasn't ready for that.

The clock from The Church of the Open Door chimed the hour. Pia glanced at her watch and winced.

“I need to run,” she said. “I have fifteen places I need to be.”

“Go,” Charity told her. “I'll handle the auction. Don't even think about it.”

“I won't,” Pia told her. “Fool's Gold owes you.”

* * *

B
Y ELEVEN IT WAS APPARENT
the town had come through to support the school. The items brought in for the yard sale had been snapped up, with most people insisting on paying two or three times the posted price. The donation bins were overflowing, as were the tables, and people just kept on coming.

Pia went from area to area, checking on her volunteers, only to discover she wasn't needed. The event ran so smoothly, she started to get nervous.

Over by the mini food court, she bought a hot dog and a soda, telling the kid manning the cart to keep the change.

“Everyone's doing that,” he said with a grin, stuffing the extra bills into a large coffee can nearly overflowing. “We've had to empty this twice already.”

“Good news,” she said, strolling over to one of the benches and taking a seat.

She was exhausted, but in a good way. Right now, in the middle of a sunny day, surrounded by her fellow citizens, she felt good. As if everything was going to be all right. Sure, the school had nearly burned down, but the town had pulled together and order had been restored. Order had always felt really good to her.

Three boys came running down the path. The one in back, a slight redheaded boy, plopped down next to her and grinned.

“There's free lemonade over there,” he said, pointing across the park.

“Let me guess. You've already had a couple of glasses.”

“How'd you know?”

“I can see the happy glow of sugar in your eyes. I'm Pia.”

“I'm Peter.” He wrinkled his nose. “I go to the school that burned down. Everybody's doing all this so we can get back to class.”

She held in a smile. “Not your idea of a good time?”

“I like school, I guess.”

Peter looked to be about nine or ten, with freckles and big brown eyes. He was skinny but had a wide smile that made her want to grin in return.

“What would you rather do than go to school?” she asked.

A shadow crossed his face then cleared. “I like to play baseball. I used to play T-ball when I was little.”

“Are you in Little League now?”

He shook his head. “My foster dad says it's too expensive and takes too much time.”

That didn't sound good. “Do you like other sports?”

“I like to watch football. They have those funny things they do with their hands. I try to watch what they're doing, but it's hard to see.”

“You know they make those up,” she told him. “There's not just one right way.”

His eyes widened. “For real?”

“Uh-huh. Come on.” She put her soda on the ground and tossed her hot dog foil and napkin in the trash, then she faced Peter. “We'll make one up now. I'll do a step, then you do a step.”

She made a fist with her right hand. He did the same. They bumped top and bottom, then fist to fist, followed by an open-palm slap and a back-of-hand bump. He added two finger wiggles, and she ended with a double clap.

“All right!” Peter stood in front of her. “Let's do it really fast.”

They went through the sequence twice, without a mistake.

“You're good,” Pia told him.

“You, too.” He glanced down the path and saw his friends. “I gotta go.”

“Okay. Have fun. Don't drink too much more lemonade.”

He laughed and took off at a run.

Pia collected her drink and stood. It was time to get back to work. As she grabbed her paperwork, she saw Jo crossing the lawn, headed for the auction postings.

Her first thought was to chase after her friend and ask about Jake. Did he seem to miss her? Was he settling in? Then she remembered how the cat had crawled onto Jo's lap and started purring within ten minutes of arriving at her house. Of course he was doing well.

She turned and ran into someone tall, broad and strong. Jostled soda spilled out of the paper cup and trickled down the front of the man's shirt.

Pia groaned and raised her eyes only to encounter Raoul's amused gaze.

“Small-town initiation?” he asked.

“Sorry.” She stepped back and brushed his chest, which proved to be more enjoyable than she would have expected. “It's diet. It won't stain or anything.”

“I'm fine.” He took her hand in his and stilled the movement but didn't release her fingers. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. You're the one who got doused.”

His touch was light, barely noticeable, yet she couldn't seem to focus on anything else. His skin was warm.
She could feel individual calluses, the power he kept contained.

The power he kept contained? What was this—a bad movie script? Who thought like that?

Apparently her, she realized as she looked back into his eyes and discovered she didn't want to turn away. Which made her immediately pull free of his hold.

“So, thanks for your donation. It's very impressive. You really did enough with donating the camp.”

“It wasn't a big deal,” he said easily. “I was happy to help.”

“Good. We should all help, especially now. With the whole burned-down-school thing.”

His dark eyebrows pulled together. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?”

No way she was going to mention that the feel of his skin on hers had thrown her. Not only was it irrational, a declaration like that put her into the scary-stalker category.