“There are two events in the short term that we should be concerned with,” Sadie explained. “The first is the fundraising gala. The Holbrooks have several of these a year. I’d like to tap into the Manhattan charity scene for the upcoming five-year period. I was telling Parker we should have a gala where people dress up in late-eighteenth-century dress. Rich people love a costume ball! And we can have stations that showcase some of the quintessential regional food from the time period. These types of events are fun, Instagram worthy, and feel very authentic, which is good for wooing donors.”
“So no mushrooms?” Remy asked sadly.
“No,” Greg snapped.
Sadie grinned. “Here’s my other high-profile push—pair local farmers with restaurants in town and in Manhattan. A lot of chefs want special, impossible-to-find ingredients. Because local food is such a buzzword, they don’t want to import it from France. We pair chefs with farmers, and they grow trendy, cool new fruits, vegetables, mushrooms, and other ingredients that a chef wants to explore on their menu. Everyone loves these types of feel-good stories. They feel innovative and creative. It’s good publicity for Harrogate, it makes the Rural Trust look cutting-edge, and it provides jobs. Speaking of which, the third item on the agenda is the Straw Boys factory.”
“We’re not calling it that,” Kaitlyn interrupted. “Parker hates the name.”
“I think it’s a cute name!” Sadie protested.
“It’s a factory. It’s not supposed to be cute.” Kaitlyn crossed her arms.
“But I can design an old-timey label. We could do a whole alcohol line with it, too!” Sadie said.
“Meg absolutely does not want a distillery in town,” Hunter told her.
“If it’s hard spirits, then it’s not that bad,” Sadie protested.
“Distilling is illegal in the city limits,” I added.
“I know, but this is a small town. Grease the wheels, right? Long-term goals. Besides, we need fun things to give away to donors. Alcohol, straws in a nice branded container, jars of honey, dried mushrooms—that’s the makings of a fancy gift basket.”
“As long as we can have room for the maker space, I don’t care,” Blade said. “We need the maker space to convince the city to let us develop a big office in downtown.”
“I was thinking,” Sadie said slowly. “It would be nice to have ThinkX and the Rural Trust share a building, since the maker space is a collaboration between the two entities.”
“Love it!” Archer said, taking another biscuit. “And it will get them out of my conference center.”
Garrett gritted his teeth. “Your conference center will have tenants, including Penny andVanity Rag. You will share, Archer.”
I rapped on the table before this could devolve into another argument. “Sadie, could you take a look at the former shirtwaist factory and see if you think it will be suitable for what you propose?”
34
Sadie
Iwas riding high after the meeting.
“I love event planning and nonprofit work!” I gushed to Parker. “When I graduated, I applied for a job at the Holbrook Foundation. They do great work. But they’re competitive. I didn’t even get an interview.” I sighed.
“Their loss,” he spat. He must have seen the confused look on my face, because he continued, “As much as my brothers annoy me, there is one thing we all agree on: how obnoxious the Holbrooks are.”
“Is there some sort of feud?” I asked, biting down a smile. “They aren’t going to show up at the gala, guns blazing, are they?”
“If they do, we can take them,” Parker said emphatically.
I let out peals of laughter.
“I’m feeling like you’re insulting my manhood,” Parker said.
I cooed, “I’m sure you’d do just fine.”
“It’s sheer numbers,” Parker said irritably. “I have almost a hundred brothers. There are four Holbrook cousins.”
“I don’t know. Allie, Carter Holbrook’s girlfriend, could probably take most of you. She looks like she doesn’t skip shoulder day.”
Parker looked at me from the corner of his eye. “You know,” he said, lowering his voice, “if there weren’t so many people around, I’d kiss you and then go down on you.”
