As he told her about the emergency surgery he’d had to perform, Evie thought about the best way to approach him with her plan. She decided feeding him first was a better idea. People were always more agreeable on a full stomach.
“Are you ready for some food?” Evie asked. “There’s a little café not too far from here that serves sandwiches and salads. Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?”
And convince you to help me pull off the most outrageous fundraiser ever.
While she changed into jeans and a sweater, Bryson let the dogs into the backyard for a few minutes to handle theirbusiness. They then got into her SUV and headed to the Garden District. There weren’t any tables available at The Chicory House when they arrived, so they spent some time browsing the shelves at the Garden District Book Shop, one of her favorite bookstores.
“This place has a bar,” Bryson said. “How can you not love New Orleans?”
“Books and booze, always a winning combination,” Evie said.
After purchasing the latest Rachel Howzell Hall novel and convincing Bryson to try Maurice Carlos Ruffin, they managed to snag a table at the café. They ordered two chopped salads and two fresh-squeezed lemonades.
“Okay,” Evie said. “I already know what you’re going to say, but I’m going to tell you my plans anyway.”
“Oh shit,” Bryson said, setting down his fork. He ran a hand down his face. “What are you up to now?”
“Is that really fair?” Evie asked.
He stared at her with an arched brow.
“I’m doing it anyway,” Evie said. “But I wanted to give you the option to join me in helping to save The Sanctuary.”
“Is this Groundhog Day, because I’m pretty sure you’ve said those exact words to me before.”
“And I’m saying them again. I know we’ve made several attempts to save the rescue already. But—”
“But there comes a point when we have to accept that it cannot be saved. I know you don’t want to hear this—I hate even having to say it, Ev, but we reached that point this morning. We’re going to save those dogs, but The Sanctuary is beyond saving.”
“I think there’s still a chance,” she said.
He dropped his head back and sighed. “Does this involve buying a shit ton of lottery tickets, because that’s the only thing I can think of that would raise the kind of money that’s needed.”
“I have something better,” Evie said. She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist. “I think we should throw a gala.”
Bryson’s brow arched. “A gala?”
“A puppy gala! Something grand, on the scale of the party my mom threw last night. We invite the same crowd, and we convince them to give tens of thousands of dollars to save The Sanctuary.”
Evie was prepared to argue her point, but she didn’t have to.
“This is as good an idea as anything else we could come up with,” Bryson said. “Rich people love to throw money around at stuff like this.” He lifted his shoulders. “I say we go for it.”
“Really? So, you’re on board?”
“Why the hell not? It’s a Hail Mary pass, but the reason teams take them is because they sometimes work.”
“Exactly!” Evie said. “Imagine how much we could raise if we did a silent auction that included a stay at Barkingham Palace? I know Ashanti would be all for it.” Evie clapped. “Okay, we have to get going on this like yesterday. But I really think we can pull it off. Ridley has this friend in public relations, Dominique. She’s amazing. A little bit scary, but amazing.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll text Rid right now so she can get the ball rolling.”
Evie could barely contain her excitement as she and Bryson left The Chicory House. They were going to do this. Whether they could raise enough to buy a new building remained to beseen, but knowing the crowd her mother associated with, she could almost guarantee they would raise enough to cover rent on one of the places she’d scoped out on her property search.
She and Bryson had just walked out onto Prytania Street and crossed at Washington Avenue, heading back to her car, when Evie heard, “Three times in less than twenty-four hours? Who would have thought?”
She turned to find Cameron and a slim blond woman—not the one he’d had in her bed—walking toward them. He was carrying foil in the shape of a swan, a signature of how leftovers were packaged at Commander’s Palace, one of the most famous restaurants in the city.
“One would think New Orleans was big enough to avoid these chance encounters,” Cameron said.
“Well, my parents’ anniversary party wasn’t really a chance encounter, was it?” Evie said. “You were an asshole for showing up there last night.”
