“How are you feeling?” she asked her friend.
Charity was about four months along. “Great. A little puffy, although no one seems to notice but me.” She grinned. “Or they’re lying. I’m good with either option.”
Charity had moved to town in early spring. In a matter of a few weeks, she’d fallen for professional cyclist Josh Golden, gotten pregnant and discovered she was the mayor’s long-lost granddaughter.
Josh and Charity had slipped away for a quiet wedding and were now awaiting the birth of their first child. Marsha was thrilled at the thought of a great-grandchild.
Just another day in Fool’s Gold, Pia thought cheerfully. There was always something going on.
Pia glanced around at the other women at the meeting. There were the usual suspects, along with a few surprises including Police Chief Alice Barns. Why would the police chief need to attend a city council meeting? Nancy East sat close to the front. No doubt the superintendent of schools would have information they all needed.
Before Pia could ask Charity, Marsha hurried in and took her seat at the head of the table.
The mayor was as well-dressed as always. She favored tailored suits and wore her white hair pulled back in a tidy bun.
“Sorry I’m late,” Marsha said. “I was on the phone. Thank you all for coming on such short notice.”
There was a murmur of people saying it was fine.
“We have a preliminary report on the fire,” Marsha said, glancing down at the pages she held. “Apparently it began in the furnace. Because of the unusually cool few days we had earlier in the week, it was turned on before it was serviced. The fire spread quickly, as did the smoke.”
“I heard that no one was hurt,” Gladys said. The older woman had served as the city manager for several years and was currently acting as treasurer.
“That’s true. We had a few minor injuries, but everyone was treated on the scene and released.” Marsha looked at them, her blue eyes dark with concern. “We’re still assessing the damage, but we’re talking millions of dollars. We do have insurance and that will help, but it won’t cover everything.”
“You mean the deductible?” one of the council members asked.
“There’s that, which is sizable enough. But there are other considerations. Books, lesson plans, computers, supplies. As I said, some will be covered, but not everything. The state will offer assistance, but that takes time. Which leads me into the next topic. Where to put all those children? I refuse to let this fire disrupt their education. Nancy?”
Nancy East, a bright, plump woman in her late thirties, opened a notebook in front of her.
“I agree with Marsha—keeping the children in school is our first priority. We considered splitting them up among the other three elementary schools, but there simply isn’t enough room. Even with portable classrooms, the infrastructure can’t support that many additions. There isn’t enough space in the cafeteria or on the playground. There aren’t enough bathrooms.”
Some of the tension in her face eased. “Fortunately, we have a solution. Raoul Moreno has offered his camp. I toured the facility yesterday, and it’s going to work beautifully for us.”
Pia leaned back in her chair. The camp was an obvious choice, she thought. It was big and had plenty of buildings. It was closed in the winter, so they wouldn’t be displacing anyone.
“There are some logistics for our classes,” Nancy continued. “Our maintenance staff is up there right now, figuring out the best configurations. There is a main building where we’ll have assemblies and where the cafeteria will be. Calls have gone out to schools all around the state for extra supplies, including desks, blackboards, dry-erase boards, buses. We’re making an appeal to the commercial suppliers. As Marsha mentioned, the state will be offering some assistance.”
She turned to Pia. “I need your help, Pia.”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“I want to mount a supply drive for this Saturday. We’ll hold it in the park. We need everything from pencils to toilet paper. Our goal is to have the children back in school by Monday.”
Pia remained calm on the outside, but inside there was a very loud shrieky voice. “It’s Wednesday.”
“I know. That’s the challenge. Can you pull something together by Saturday?”
The clear answer was no, but Pia swallowed that. She had a phone tree that rivaled anything created by the government and access to an impressive list of volunteers.
“I can get the word out tonight,” she said. “Beg mention in tomorrow’s paper, along with Friday’s. Do media Friday and get it set up by, say, nine Saturday morning.” Even thinking about it was enough to make her woozy. “I need a list of what you need.”
Nancy had come prepared. She passed a folder to Pia. “If people would rather give money, we won’t say no.”