Return of the Runaway Bride (15 page)

"It sounds as though you should have been given a little more information."

Savanna could tell his sarcastic barb was directed at
Miz
Ida.

"More information?"
Savanna kept her tone light in an effort to hide the trepidation that sprouted right in the area of her solar plexus.

Daniel glanced around the table and finally his eyes clashed once again with hers.

"Since no one seems inclined to clue you in on our little problem, I guess I'm the one who'll have to pass on the bad news." He leaned toward the table and rested his weight on his elbows. "We have little to no working capital where this fund-raising effort is concerned. And since booking a carnival involves coughing up a hefty sum of money..." He hesitated, looking for a reaction from her.

Savanna could only nod. He was correct. Front money was needed in order to get the carnival to come to town.

He raised his chin and peered at her. "Then like I said, it won't work."

She stared at him a long moment. It bothered her that he seemed so pleased to have put an end to the carnival concept.

"Well," Savanna started slowly. Then she looked at Jim, the president of the board. "Is that true?"

Jim nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid it is."

The total failure of her first idea didn't bother her as much as Daniel's strange demeanor. She hadn't expected his brusque behavior and she didn't know what was causing it. The worst thing was that she didn't have time to contemplate it, either.

"Okay," she said, thinking aloud, "then we need to keep it simple. How about using a telemarketing approach?"

She could see them waiting for her to explain. "This idea has no out-of-pocket cost, except for a few phone
lines. And we already have those here at the hospital. We gather a few volunteers, make lots of calls, tell people our problem and ask for their help.
Their monetary help."

"You mean beg?"

This time Daniel's tone held a hostile edge that was unmistakable.

Savanna looked him in the eye. "I'd prefer the phrase 'calling pleas,' or '
tele
-petitioning.'"

"You just make that up?" he asked.

Was that a snicker she'd heard come from him? The anxiety she'd felt because of his questions now turned to ire. Why was he so set on negating every word that came out of her mouth?

"I'll have you know," she informed him, "that this telemarketing angle has worked very well for me and my former clients in the past."

She glanced down the table, looking for some support. But everyone seemed content to sit and watch her and Daniel butt heads. Well, she had no intention of putting on a show for anyone.

"Fine," she said. "If that idea won't work for you…" she looked down at her notebook "…then how about a dinner?
A big dinner.
A grand, once-a-year gala of a dinner."

"How in the world could a dinner—" Daniel put special emphasis on the last word "—earn the kind of money we need to keep this hospital
going
?"

"You let me worry about that," she heard herself snap. She looked down at her notes and gritted her teeth. What was wrong with him? Why was he so hell-bent against every idea she suggested?

"Savanna?"
Jim asked quietly.

She was relieved to give him her attention.

"Daniel has a legitimate question," he said. "It seems that a dinner would cost money, not make money."

Savanna straightened her spine. "Then I didn't explain myself very well. A fund-raising dinner can be a lot of work for a lot of people. But if it's put together correctly and managed well from the very start, then quite a lot of money can be made."

She named a figure and eyebrows shot up all the way down the table. All the way down to Daniel, that is. If he was impressed, he certainly was doing a fine job of hiding it.

"It just won't work" was all he said.

"Of course it will," she told him, her voice louder than she'd intended. She took a deep breath and added, almost plaintively, "If you'll give my idea a chance, you'll see."

What was she doing? She didn't need to grovel to him. There were fourteen other people on the hospital board. All she had to do was persuade them that she knew what she was talking about.

She made a point of avoiding Daniel's gaze altogether as she said, "This idea will work fine. If we can persuade area businesses to donate, or sell to us at cost, the supplies we'll need."

"How will we pay for these supplies?" Daniel asked.

Savanna didn't even glance his way when she answered. "Dinner tickets will cost five hundred dollars a plate."

Someone in the group behind her gave a surprised whistle.

She nodded. "That's how we make our money. And maybe we could have a head table for Fulton's most
prominent citizens." She grinned wickedly "And we'll charge them a couple thousand.
Maybe more."

"Dollars?"

The statement obviously boggled Daniel's mind.

"Yes," Savanna said. "You want to raise money, don't you? There's much more than just dinner taking place. That's why it's called a gala event. People dress to the nines. They come to see and be seen. The media will be out in force. People will see their names and pictures in local papers and a national magazine or two, if I can make that happen. And let's not forget the network news." Her tone was accusatory as she asked, "Daniel, wouldn't you cough up a few thousand dollars to save Fulton General?"

He ignored her question.

"The people of Fulton can't afford that kind of money," Daniel said. "You better take your fancy ideas back to the big city, Savanna."

His snide remark stung like a well-aimed slap. A knee-jerk instinct compelled her to strike back. But she controlled her tongue. She refused to make a spectacle of herself in front of all these people.

Calmly she remarked, "There's no reason to stay in the confines of Fulton with our fund-raising efforts. People come from all over the county to be treated at Fulton General. We'll invite the Governor and the State Legislators. And there must be a Hollywood celebrity or two who own property in Virginia. If these people knew the hospital was in trouble, don't you think they would want to help?"

Her question raised a great deal of murmuring from the group behind Savanna and those sitting at the table. It was evident that the idea of petitioning the entire county, let alone the state, hadn't come up before now. Soon, no one speaker was leading the meeting as people talked out of turn, everyone discussing the merits of Savanna's ideas.

"Hold on just a minute." Jim Thompson tried to bring some semblance of order back to the meeting. "It seems as though we need some time to chew this over. Why don't we take a short break? There are doughnuts and coffee on the table at the back of the room. Everyone, help yourselves."

As people gravitated toward the refreshments, Savanna made a beeline to Daniel.

"Could I speak to you a moment?" she asked him.

He nodded once curtly,
then
stood stock-still.

"Not here," Savanna said, nearly hissing the words.
"In private."

She turned, went out the door and into the hallway. Although she couldn't actually see him, she sensed his commanding presence close on her heels.

Rounding a corner, she found an empty office and flipped on the light switch. She plunked her fist down on her hip and glared into his face.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?"

"You know exactly what."

He simply folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Great," she muttered. "Now you clam up. Listen, I want to know what's wrong with you. And I want to know now. I thought we worked all this out last Sunday night. I'm trying to help these people and you... you keep..."

"I keep what?"

"You keep knocking me down." She glared and waited for him to refute her accusation. When he did, she would have just the right words ready for him.

"What does our discussion Sunday night have to do with this fund-raising meeting?" he asked. "Come on, Savanna. Keep your arguments straight. We're either going to fight about one thing or the other."

The man was infuriating, the way he never said or did what she expected him to. In her frustration, she snapped, "Sunday night's discussion has everything to do with this meeting and you know it!" She pointed at him. "You say that you've forgiven me. You say that you've let go of your anger against me. But let's face it, you've shown here tonight that you haven't done either."

Daniel cocked his head, his brow furrowing. "Let me get this straight. You think that my being angry with you over something that happened six years ago has something to do with my finding fault with some of your fund-raising ideas?"

"
Some
of my ideas?"
She was awed by his audacity. "I think your being against all of my ideas would have better explained what happened in there." She didn't wait for him to respond, but barreled ahead. "And, yes. I think your anger toward me is keeping you from considering with an open mind anything I have to say."

When he spoke his voice was quiet. "The anger I
felt
." He stressed the past tense of the verb. "And that has nothing whatsoever to do with my negativity toward your efforts to help the hospital."

"What, then?" she asked, her tone clearly expressing the tension coiling inside her. "I'm committed to helping the hospital."

"I realize," he began, "that you think you're committed to the idea of helping us."

Savanna's brows drew together. "And what is
that
supposed to mean?"

Daniel sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "I guess I didn't say that very well. What I meant was... I meant—" He stopped abruptly, shoved himself away from the doorjamb, and stood with his feet planted firmly apart. "Let's just stick to the original issue. My anger toward you had nothing to do with
what went on in the meeting." His hand began to bob as he punctuated each word. "You can believe me when I say I am not angry with you."

He seemed so sincere and that confused Savanna. If it hadn't been his anger, then what had made him so opposed to everything she'd said?

When it became clear that he had no intention of explaining himself without prompting, she asked, "Well, are you going to tell me what's going on in your head? I think I deserve to know why you were so antagonistic in there."

"You do deserve to know," he agreed.

The scowl on his face and the manner in which he jammed his fists into his pockets clearly told Savanna that he wasn't looking forward to saying whatever it was that was on his mind. As the eternity of one second ticked by, and then another, she had plenty of time to wonder what he was about to reveal.

Finally he simply shook his head. "There's no other way to say it but plain and clear." He looked her directly in the eye. "I don't want you to hurt these people," he said. "They know nothing about what goes into putting on a big, fancy dinner. This hospital, this town, means everything to them. I won't let you come in here, get their hopes high and then let them plummet to the ground." His dark eyes bore into has as he repeated, "I won't let you hurt these people, Savanna."

"Hurt them?" The question dripped with the incredulity that filled her to the brim.