“By the look of this room, the crowd seems pretty primed. Do they really like this sort of thing?”
Everyone at the table nodded in unison. “People claim they do it for the good of the university,” Cree said.
“Yeah,” Janae continued. “Some of them are genuinely interested in helping send kids to school. I’d say most of them do it because it’s a chance for a date with their secret crushes.” Janae’s candid assessment seemed to be shared by the five people seated with Vanessa as they all nodded in unison. “But either way, it’s the biggest fundraiser of the year and it sends at least five kids to school on a full four-year ride. Can’t be mad at that.”
Vanessa turned to Michael to find the line of his jaw tense and muscle ticking.
“I guess that means your suffering begins now?”
He groaned, making each of them chuckle as he pushed his chair back and stood. “Pray for my return. Some of these bidders can get… aggressive.”
He walked from their table and headed through the curtain at the side of the stage.
“He really hates this, doesn’t he?”
Derrick’s shoulders shook. “Although Michael’s never been one for putting on a show, I think he hates this specifically because of who always ends up winning a date with him.”
She narrowed her gaze, waiting for him to continue.
“Amanda Sayers,” Derrick continued. “She always manages to put down the winning bid and forces Michael into the date he won’t willingly give her any other time.”
Vanessa remembered the aura of entitlement Amanda wore when they briefly met during the festival. Maybe it was because she knew Michael wasn’t into her, or perhaps it was just simple jealousy.Whichever it was, Vanessa felt extra petty, which meant Amanda had a surprise coming her way.
“Would you all excuse me for a moment? I need to powder my nose.”
When Janae and Cree rose too, she lifted her palm, stopping them. “It’s all right. I don’t need company this time.”
The two shared a strange look before glancing her way and nodding. She walked out of the room, looking in each direction before she headed across the hallway to a smaller catering room that was being used to process payments.
The room was empty until Mayor Healy stepped inside. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I was looking to make an advance bid on one of the singles, however, I don’t see anyone here to complete my transaction.”
He smiled kindly and walked her over to one of the empty tables. “That’s all right. I think the folks handling this part are taking bids from the participating singles. They’ll be over shortly. I can help you, though.”
He reached across the table and grabbed a bidding sheet and handed it to her. “Just fill that out and give your donation, and your bid is placed.”
She pulled a pen from her clutch and began filling out the form. When she finished, she handed it to the mayor. He gave the form a cursory look until his eyes widened and his gaze slammed into hers.
“I think you may have written the wrong number. Are you sure you meant to write this much?”
He gave her back the paper, and she counted the zeros, making sure she hadn’t made a clerical error. When she was certain the number was as she’d intended, she handed the form back to the mayor.
“The number is correct.”
He leveled his gaze at her and she could see suspicion contorting his face with pursed lips and a raised brow.
“Is this some kind of game? You do know it’s a crime to render false bids, don’t you?”
“Mayor Healy,” she began softly, attempting to assuage his worry with her calm voice. “I can promise you that bid is very real. If you have concerns about whether or not I can make the payment, tell me how I can submit an electronic donation and I’ll wire the money this instant.”
He regarded her carefully, tilting his head as he contemplated her offer. He shoved his hands in his pocket and nodded.
“Okay,” he agreed, giving her the information and standing with his arms crossed as she completed the transaction on her phone. Before she pressed send, she looked up at him.
“Mayor Healy?” His cautious gaze clashed with hers. “There’s only one condition to the donation. It has to remain anonymous. I know secrets aren’t necessarily a big thing in Monroe Hills, and under usual circumstances, I wouldn’t mind. In this instance, though, it’s important that I keep my anonymity.”
“Don’t you want the recognition?”
