Fundraising the Dead (35 page)

Finally everyone had straggled out, and only Marty was left. I didn’t know whether to hug her or kick her.

“You sandbagged me, you know,” I said.

“You handled it beautifully. I knew you would. Admit it—you’re happy about it, right?”

I grinned grudgingly. “I think I will be, when I have a chance to think about it. How did you sell the board on me?”

“Nell, don’t put yourself down. You’ve done a good job here, and, as I said, people trust you. We need continuity, stability more than anything else right now, and you can provide that. You’ve got more common sense than most of the staff and half the board. And you really do care about this place. You’re the best choice, and the board agrees. Don’t worry about the long run—this is temporary, but you do a good job, you’ll be around for a while. Madame President—I like it.”

“One more thing, Marty. I think as my first official act I’d like to establish the Alfred Findley Memorial Fund for Collections Management. I think you’ll be making a substantial contribution to it.”

“Fair enough. Now let’s go celebrate!”