Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Your mother thinks it’s community service for that bar fight he got into in Albany last year. Or the one this year.”
Micah Sullivan got into a lot of fights. Dive bars in small towns. In airports. Once legendarily while on stage at his own concert.
Helen and Jonah had a whole narrative about this in their heads, about how he went to dive bars to try and get away from his fame and whatever, but someone there always recognized him and started shit. Micah tried to walk away but some yokel wouldn’t have it.
There was no way Micah was the kind of guy who started fights. He was the kind of guy who ended up having to defend himself.
Though that didn’t explain the airports.
Or backstage at the Grammys.
Whatever. It was a character flaw in her imaginary boyfriend she was able to look past.
“He can’t just want to give to a good cause?” she asked. Haven House was an excellent cause.
“Of course. I just don’t know how he heard of our good cause,” Jonah said.
Years ago, when Jonah came into Helen and Daphne’s lives, he brought with him Haven House. A place for single mothers to go with their kids, to get job training, counseling, and education, and most importantly, a chance to rest and recover with their children in a beautiful mountain resort. Over the years it had grown and flourished, and when Helen started to work for Haven House as director of communications and fundraising, she’d increased their reach by about a million.
“He heard of us because I’ve been working my ass off for two years.”
“You have,” Jonah said, letting go of the wheel with one hand to clap it on hers. “You totally have. I do not mean to imply you haven’t.”
She smiled and tried not to freak out and tell him to keep both hands on the wheel. She glanced sideways out the window as the countryside morphed into suburbia. Every once in a while there would be one hold-out farm. A red building with a few horses outside surrounded by a moat of green grass and fields, with gas stations and office buildings right at the edge.
The people on those farms, were they foolish? Or brave? Holding on to something everyone around them had let go of.
She shook her head and looked back over at Jonah.
“I think it was his manager who found us,” she said. “She’s probably got a finger on New York State charities.” For court-mandated community service purposes.
“Yeah,” Jonah said. “You’re probably right.”
“But if it makes you feel better, let’s say he read that piece in Eastern New York magazine or Women’s Day—”
“Or the New York Times,” Jonah protested. She stiffened. That New York Times piece last year hadn’t been so much about Haven House as it was about her and the court case and her very public moment. Every time she thought about it she wanted to puke and cry.
“Sure. He read it, was impressed by what we’re doing and reached out a year later.”
Jonah smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go with that. What’s your plan?”
“What do you mean?” she asked
Jonah shot her a look. “I mean, you’re going to take his donation and then what…?”
“Thank him.”
“Helen. Please. I know you. I’ve watched you work. When you and Evan—”
“That was political fundraising,” she said. She no longer flinched when she heard Evan’s name. She wondered when that happened. It seemed like she’d let go of something without even realizing it.
“I know you’ve got more planned,” Jonah said, and Helen kept her mouth shut for, oh…eight seconds.
“I’m going to ask him to come and perform at the Haven House picnic.”
“Oh my god, seriously?” Jonah asked, and his look of horror and excitement mirrored exactly how she felt.
“Yep. I’m going to ask the biggest music star in the world to come and sing at the picnic in September. And maybe—”
“No. Don’t.”
“Sign some autographs.”
“Helen.” He sounded like Helen’s teenage sister Iris. It was adorkable.
“And be a part of the auction.”
“Like donate a guitar or something?”
“Sure. If that’s what he wants.”
“That auction…” Jonah shook his head. The auction, another thing that had grown since she’d been running it—two years on line and last year in person. People donated all sorts of things, but what it had suddenly become famous for, thanks to the Athens Fire Department, was…bachelors. Bachelor fire fighters donating their time. Not in a gross way, she made sure of that. There were no candlelit dinners or stripper music. There were handyman services and lawn care. Eaves trough clearing and property clean-up. Last year two guys donated the design and building of a tree house.
It was all very wholesome, but the auction had gotten some press, and because it was for a charity for single moms, some of that press took the cheeky route and…well, The Haven House Bachelor Auction was now a thing. And she would have stopped it, if that had been necessary to preserve the integrity of Haven House. But she was glad it hadn’t been necessary, because it raised a lot of money. And it was fun.