Page 25 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
“You’ll need a local helper for that, Megan,” Donal said after a moment. “Someone who knows how to encourage people to donate money for a good cause and how to wrangle them if it comes to it.”
Bets crossed her arms. “Who are you thinking?”
“My dad, Eoghan O’Dwyer,” Donal said with a slap of a hand to his knee. “He’s in your ceramics class, so you’ll be getting to know him. He was good on a horse in his day, and he’s well respected around town.”
“I’d be happy to have his help, Donal,” Megan said, hoping it would help the pit in her stomach. All of this was so new to her. But new was good, right? And she would meet more people in the community. She wanted that for her and for Ollie.
Siobhan clapped her hands. “Eoghan is perfect! And he’s an ace at dealing with Cormac O’Sullivan, so we might get a cut of the local gambling.”
Even Megan knew about the town’s elderly bookie. The whole village bet on pretty much anything, which he kept track of in his black book.
“My thought exactly,” Donal said, leaning forward. “I’m hoping he can encourage Cormac to whip the village and the surrounding towns up into a fever over the horse racing. I’d prefer to raise the money we need ourselves than to be beholden to the government.”
“Me too, although I’ll apply for the grant all the same,” Bets said with a frown. “Well, it sounds like we have a plan.”
“It’s going to be grand,” Siobhan said. “I say we nail down the horse stuff straightaway and then start selling tickets. People tend to buy a little closer to an event here in Ireland.”
“I’ll get on the horse stuff right away.” Megan clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. What did that entail? She was glad Eoghan would know.
“You wait until after your first class, Meg,” Angie said. “I remember mine well.”
So did everyone in town, given a few of the local men had shown up nude on a dare.
“Might be nice to have a little spectacle,” Megan said with a harried laugh.
“Maybe better to wait until after this first week of classes,” Bets said, watching her with knitted brows. “I imagine you’re a little nervous after all this time.”
Understatement of the century. “I was trying to make a joke. Clearly not well. I didn’t mean anything crazy. It’s just…it would be nice to have some kind of icebreaker in case things don’t go as planned.”
Because her hands were shaking, and shaking hands didn’t center clay well.
Mold the clay, mold yourself,her old teacher had said.
With her new challenge of organizing the St. Stephen’s Day fair, she was about to find out how good she was at molding herself. But first, she had to center the clay and teach her classes.
Her entire future rested on it.
