Page 15 of Second to None
“That’s the thing. It turns itself on and then turns itself off and then turns itself on and then turns itself off. It’s never done that before, and I can’t imagine that it’s good for the furnace.” Emily looked at the boiler along with Coleman, even though she had no idea what any of the various dials and gauges meant. The big piece of equipment was grumbling along at its usual bass pitch at the moment.
“I’ll take a look and see what I can figure out,” the repairman said. “But I’m thinking that you need to run a few bake sales to replace this old monster.”
It would take more than a few bake sales to replace the heating system in the center, and Emily felt as though Coleman had just dropped the entire weight of the boiler on her shoulders. Then she remembered Max’s donation and started to smile. “Why don’t you work up an estimate for a replacement? And add in air-conditioning for the whole building as well.”
“You serious? What’d you do, win the lottery?”
“In a way.”
“I’ll get the estimate done, but I can’t start a project this big until after the holidays. I gotta order the equipment and run ductwork and—”
Emily held up her hand. “I understand. But give me a price so I can budget for it.”
“Okay, but it’s gonna set you back a bundle, even with giving you the equipment at my cost.” The man sounded dubious. “Now, skedaddle, and let me put some more duct tape on this antique to keep it running.”
Checking on Diego’s room reminded Emily about the injured dog, so she walked out into the hallway to call the veterinary office. The receptionist transferred her to the vet tech, Tiana, who said, “He came through surgery pretty well. Doc put a couple of screws and plates in his broken tibia to stabilize it and stitched him up. Now he has a cast on, and we’re giving him penicillin to fight any infection, as well as pain meds. When you get an open fracture from a high-energy trauma, there’s a lot of damage to the soft tissues. But he’s young, barely more than a puppy, so he should heal fine. Doc’s so good, he probably won’t even limp.”
Relief coursed through Emily, although she felt a twinge of dread at how expensive the surgery sounded. “Thank goodness! Is it all right if Diego comes by after school to see the dog? He’s very invested.”
The tech laughed. “No kidding. He’s been barraging us with texts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need. I like a kid who cares about animals.”
*
The Carver Center’s six board members sat around the heavy mahogany dining-room table that had belonged to Emily’s aunt Ruthie. On the matching sideboard sat a silver tray holding seven crystal flutes, but she’d left the two bottles of champagne in the refrigerator, so no one could see them. Izzy was in her room doing her fourth-grade social-studies homework. Fortunately, she thought board meetings were boring, so Emily wasn’t worried that she would eavesdrop.
“Okay, why are we here?” Gloria asked with a thump of her cane.
Emily picked up the stack of manila folders in front of her and handed it to Violet, who sat beside her. “Please take one, but don’t open it until I tell you to.”
She’d printed out the page of the Carver Center’s online bank statement, showing the million-dollar deposit from earlier that day, and put a copy in each folder.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a flair for the dramatic?” Horace asked as he placed his folder flat on the table in front of him.
“It’s a dramatic occasion,” Emily said, struggling not to grin.
When the last person laid their folder on the table, Emily said, “As you know, Max Varela cleared time in his busy schedule to visit the Carver Center yesterday. Just as he arrived, Diego brought in a severely injured dog.” She flinched as she remembered the bone thrusting through the little creature’s fur. “Mr. Varela generously put his limousine at our disposal to take the dog up to Dr. Quillen’s office. After that he toured our facility.” Emily looked around the table to find every set of eyes fixed on her. “He was impressed.”
She heard the intake of breath as they waited for her next statement.
“I’m happy to announce that Mr. Varela reversed his foundation manager’s decision and agreed to fund our K-9 Angelz project. You may now open your folders.”
There was a murmur of voices and a sound of rustling paper before silence fell over the group as they scanned the sheet of numbers in front of them.
“This shows a wire deposit of one million dollars,” Horace said, frowning as he raised his eyes from the paper. “Is that a mistake?”
Emily’s grin broke through as she shook her head. “Mr. Varela wanted the program to have full funding so it could get started right away.”
Violet made a humming sound of amazement. “I’ve never seen that many zeros in one place before.”
“Honey, you did one hell of a persuading job,” Gloria said, still staring at the paper.
“Honestly, I think Diego and his rescued dog did the persuading. Mr. Varela saw how much the child cared about a dog that wasn’t even his.”
“I’ll get on the phone with Buster,” Gloria said. She was their designated negotiator, because she had a slight acquaintance with the owner of the lot. She was also a tough cookie. “That man is gonna blow a gasket when I make him an offer he can’t refuse. So let’s talk strategy.”
