Read Fundraising the Dead for Free Online Page A

seating charts so that they could steer the guests in the right direction. I joined Charles at the dais and addressed the throng.
    “Thank you, Charles. Let me add that I am delighted to see so many familiar faces here, and even more delighted by the new faces among you. You are the heart—and the backbone—of the Society, and none of this would be possible without you. Now, ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes we will begin serving dinner. If you have any trouble locating your table, just ask one of the staff members stationed by the doors, and they will be happy to help you.”
    I gave the assembly a bright smile, which was lost on the majority of them as they surged in the opposite direction toward the bar for a final refill.
    Charles leaned forward slightly to speak softly in my ear. “Nell, you’ve done a magnificent job, as always. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His breath was warm against my neck as I continued to beam brightly at the crowd, alert for any glitches. He went on, even more softly. “Will I be seeing you later?”
    Without turning, I replied in the same low tone, “Of course—we can do our own celebrating. But I’ll have to stay until the caterer’s wrapped things up, so it’ll be late.”
    “And worth waiting for, my dear.” With that, he moved purposefully toward a latecomer, a senior board member who had just come in and was wrestling with his coat. “Ah, Arthur, I’m so glad you could make it.”
    I watched Charles cross the room, admiring the elegant cut of his jacket, and the elegant back it covered. Then I squared my shoulders and went to supervise the dinner seating. My staff was ready and waiting at the doors. Alfred, I noted, had not moved from where Felicity had parked him, but he had been accosted by one of the more inebriated guests, who looked to be haranguing him about something. Poor Alfred—but I didn’t have the time to rescue him now.
    Those lucky souls who have never had the privilege of planning a major event such as a wedding are probably unaware of the hair-pulling and hand-wringing that goes on among the people who have to arrange seating. Since this was, for us, a major event, we had begun well in advance; unfortunately the process continued as people walked in the door. The staff scuttled around, swapping place cards, eliminating those for the no-shows, and strategizing all the while, trying to seat the right people together and keep others apart. And then, of course, the guests themselves often messed it all up by deciding that they absolutely, positively had to sit with somebody else entirely. Or they simply sat down at the first place they came to and refused to budge. Or they brought along guests of their own—usually nonpaying—and expected us to juggle everything to make room for them. Which of course we had to do, because the point of the whole game was to keep the guests (that is, the donors) happy so that they’d continue to love us and write us big checks.
    Marty Terwilliger knew all this, but she still surged into my line of sight accompanied by someone I didn’t recognize. “Okay, Nell, where’d you put me? And I need a seat for Jimmy here—he’s my guest.”
    I looked at Jimmy. More precisely, I looked up at Jimmy, who towered over me by several inches, despite my heels. But the height was nicely balanced by the breadth, although I might’ve said that his tweed jacket was a little casual for the occasion. However, when I made it as far as his eyes, they were anything but casual. Even in a few brief moments, I got the impression that he didn’t miss much.
    “It’s a pleasure to have you here, uh, Jimmy. Marty, let me check the seating chart, but I’m sure we can work it out. Would you excuse me a minute?” Tall Jimmy nodded once, then headed for the bar, while Marty waited near the door. I snatched a seating chart from one of my minions. Luckily I usually planted a staff member or two at each table, someone who could be