Susan lifted her bright red bag into the rear and climbed into the passenger seat of a compact orange car.
Mrs. Penrith pulled out of the parking area and turned onto the main road. “I’m not going to let Nolan marry the likes of you,” she said in a frosty voice.
“Isn’t that up to Nolan?” Susan asked, chilled by the malice in the other woman. “Besides, you don’t know me. It’s a bit early to assassinate my character.”
“You work in a night club. You dance and disrobe in front of men.”
“But I don’t sleep with them,” Susan said. “Look, I was surprised when Nolan picked me. Lucy and Jasmine are beautiful and they’re nice girls. I doubt you have a thing to worry about.”
“We’ll see,” Mrs. Penrith said.
Cold silence filled the vehicle. Susan thought about packing the void with bright chatter before deciding to study the scenery instead. It was a gorgeous winter day with a warm sun and a vivid blue sky. There was still a nip in the air from the frost the previous evening, and Susan noticed the patches of white on the grass in places where the sun hadn’t yet reached.
“How big is the school?” Susan asked finally. She might as well learn something about the area.
“We have almost two hundred pupils,” Mrs. Penrith said.
“And is the gala day to raise funds for a particular project?”
“We want to buy more computers and uniforms for our sports teams. We have a hockey team, several netball and rugby teams.”
“Does Nolan play rugby?”
“He used to,” Mrs. Penrith said, noticeably thawing when Susan mentioned her son. “The farm keeps him busy these days. He loves the land.”
Susan nodded. “Which stall will I work on today?” She made a mental note to take her camera. Tyler hadn’t mentioned the gala, although they’d both been busy during the last couple of days and hadn’t managed more than a quick phone call and a few texts.
“You’re on the white elephant stall,” Mrs. Penrith said. “They sell a bit of everything.”
“We had a white elephant stall at the hospice charity,” Susan said. “They’re usually very popular. You never know what treasures you’ll find.”
“Do you…do you do charity work?” Mrs. Penrith seemed to force the question out.
Susan ignored the awkwardness and smiled. “I used to do a lot more than I do now. I work in a soup kitchen once a month and help out with the hospice. We’ve done door-to-door collecting and organized several gala days and sausage sizzles. It’s hard to get people to part with their money, and we’ve tried to get creative with our fundraising. In two months we’re organizing a rubber duck race.”
“Oh? How does that work?” Mrs. Penrith was interested despite herself.
“We have five hundred rubber ducks, which are all numbered. People pay twenty dollars to buy one duck. Then they’re all dropped into a fast-running stream. The first duck across the finish line wins a holiday donated by the local travel agency.”
“I wonder if we could do something like that here,” Mrs. Penrith mused. “The local volunteer fire brigade needs more funding.”
“If there are lots of single men in the area, you could ask the single women to make picnic baskets and people can bid for them. The winning bid would secure the picnic basket plus the company of the young lady who made the basket. It’s an old-fashioned idea, but if you hold it at a town picnic, something like that is lots of fun.”
“That’s a good idea,” Mrs. Penrith said. “Our fund-raising efforts haven’t been very successful recently. I think it’s because we’re using the same old ideas. We need fresh ideas to encourage people to donate their money and time.”
“Egg throwing contests are always fun,” Susan said. “Especially on a gorgeous day like this. Are you having one of those?”
“No, we didn’t think of it. We have the usual stalls plus some friendly games between the different sports teams.”
“If you’d like to try an egg-throwing competition today, it’s easy enough to organize. I could do it for you if you like. All we’d need is lots of eggs and an open field.”
Mrs. Penrith turned to her and actually smiled. “We’ll detour via the farm,” she said. “My chooks are laying very well this year. How much should we charge?”
“Since the eggs are donated and we don’t need to pay for them, how about two-dollars per person. That’s not too expensive and everyone, regardless of age, would be able to afford to play. All we’ll need is a prize.”
“Would you volunteer your time? Maybe an outing with one of the gentleman?” Mrs. Penrith asked.
“As long as Nolan approves, that will be fine,” Susan said, understanding Mrs. Penrith’s subtle maneuvering away from Nolan. Susan wondered what the woman would say if she discovered Susan preferred her younger son. Mrs. Penrith needed to worry about Tyler, not Nolan.
