Best of My Love (Fool's Gold, #20)

“You here to talk to Mr. Ford’s group?” Courtney asked as Sienna approached.

“Yes. I’m going to guilt that California Organization of Organic Soap Manufacturers into coughing up some serious money.”

“I have no doubt. The AV equipment is all set up. I tested it earlier.”

“Thanks.” Sienna patted her large tote bag. “I have my material right here.” She glanced toward the meeting room, then back at her sister. “How’s Mom’s engagement party coming? Do you need any help?”

“Everything is fine. The menu’s almost finalized. I’ve taken care of decorations and flowers. It will be lovely.”

Sienna hoped that was true. When Maggie and Neil had announced their engagement, the three sisters had wanted to throw Mom a big party. The hotel was the obvious venue, which was fine, but then Courtney had said she would handle the details. And where Courtney went, disaster was sure to follow.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Sienna told her. “I’m happy to help.” She would also stop and talk to Joyce on the way out. Just to make sure everything was handled.

Emotion flashed through Courtney’s blue eyes but before Sienna could figure out what she was thinking, her sister smiled. “Sure. No problem. Thanks for the offer.” She stepped back, bumped into the wall, then righted herself. “You should, um, get going to your meeting.”

“You’re right. I’ll see you later.”

Courtney nodded. “Good luck.”

Sienna laughed. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not going to need it.”

She waved and headed for the Stewart Salon. The meeting room was set up with glasses of wine and plenty of hot and cold appetizers. At one end was a large screen, a podium and microphone. Sienna removed her laptop from her tote and turned it on. While it booted, she plugged it into the room’s AV system. She started the video and was pleased to see the pictures on the screen and hear the music through the speakers.

“Perfection through planning,” she murmured as she set the video back to the beginning.

Ten minutes later the good members of COOOSM bustled into the salon and collected glasses of wine and appetizers. Sienna circulated through the room, chatting with as many people as she could. She knew the drill—introduce herself, ask lots of friendly questions and generally be both approachable and charming so that by the time she made her pitch, she was already considered someone they knew and liked.

She made as much effort with the women as the men. While studies were divided on which gender gave more to charity, Sienna had always found that generosity came in unexpected ways, and she wasn’t about to lose an opportunity based on stereotypes. Every dollar she brought in was a dollar the organization could use to help.

Milton Ford, the president of COOOSM, approached her. The little man barely came up to her shoulder. So adorable. She smiled.

“I’m ready whenever you are, Mr. Ford.”

“Thank you, my dear.” He shook his head. “This town does have its share of very tall women. There’s a young lady who works here at the hotel. Ramona, I believe.”

Sienna happened to know that Ramona was about five-two, but she didn’t correct him. No doubt Courtney had done something to confuse Mr. Ford, but this wasn’t the time to set him straight. Not with donations on the line.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the podium.

Sienna walked over to the microphone and turned it on, then she smiled at the crowd. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much for taking time out of your schedule to meet with me today.” She winked at a bearded older man wearing overalls. “Jack, did you ever decide on that second glass of wine? Because I think it will help you make the right decision.”

Everyone laughed. Jack toasted her. She smiled at him, then pushed the play button on her computer. Music flowed from the speakers. Carefully, slowly, she allowed her smile to fade. A picture of a large American flag appeared on the screen.

“Between 2001 and 2012 nearly sixty-five hundred American soldiers were killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. During that same period of time—” the screen shifted to the face of a battered woman clutching two small children “—almost twelve thousand women were murdered by their husbands, boyfriends or a former partner. Even now, three women are murdered every single day by the man who claims to love them.”