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  “Well, let’s not go off on Bill right now. We’ve got work to do.”

  Two hours later, Amanda had compiled a list of all the checks that had come in and had endorsed them all over to the Longhorn Ball cash-management account. The checks ranged from a thousand dollars for individual tickets, to ten to fifteen thousand for tables in the back, to twenty-five to fifty thousand for tables up front and to even larger amounts for straight donations to the Ball itself. In all, the checks totaled more than three hundred thousand dollars. Some of them were six months old, and Amanda wondered how many of them would still be honored by the bank. She also had to wonder how much Susie’s husband would have really had to contribute if Susie had just bothered to open the mail.

  At about the same time, her mother finished opening the bills, which covered electricity and phone at the office, the rental fee for the ranch where the Ball had taken place, the fee for the entertainment, security from the Dallas Police Department officers who had moonlighted to patrol the perimeter of the ranch and keep party crashers out, and everything else, including food and drink suppliers. The women sat opposite each other in Amanda’s office and compared notes. The bills came out to just over three hundred thousand.

  “We’ll be in the black, but only barely,” Amanda said, “if all these checks clear.”

  “I don’t think Susie paid one single bill,” Elizabeth said. “How could she have gotten away with it?”

  “You know better than me, Mom. Who’s gonna go up against the reigning Longhorn Ball Chair in this town—especially when it’s Susie Caruth?”

  “You’re right.”

  “Why don’t I go to the bank,” Amanda suggested, “and take in the cash and checks, and you can pay the bills? Just don’t mail any off until we find out how many of these checks actually clear.”

  “Sounds good to me. There might be some money in the account, which would help if not all those checks are okay, but somehow I doubt it.”

  “See you in a bit.” Amanda hoisted the bag of cash and a manila envelope full of checks and deposit slips. “They used People’s Bank. It’s just two blocks from here. I ought to be right back.”

  A knock interrupted them. Amanda and Elizabeth glanced at each other. Who could that be? To Amanda’s surprise, it was Sharon Peavy.

  “Hi, honey!” Sharon chimed, charging toward Amanda and giving her an awkward hug. Sharon glanced over her shoulder at the newly straightened-up offices. “Looks like you’ve had a busy first morning!”

  “Did you see this place?” Amanda asked in disbelief. “Can you believe what a state it was in?”

  “I could not,” Sharon said, looking sheepish. “You have to forgive me for not telling you. If I had, you would never have taken this on.”

  “You got that right. Well, come on in.”

  Amanda thought about how strange the whole situation was. There is an unspoken understanding about leadership among volunteer groups. The vast majority of women who are willing to share their time and talent for charitable causes know that most women who are elected to positions of leadership handle the responsibility well.

  They approach their responsibilities with humble hearts, deep senses of duty and commitment, and they put the welfare of the organization above any personal desires or agenda. Rarely is there a chairman who almost immediately transforms into a ruthless, self-promoting, Bridezilla-type character, one who worries only about “her year” and gives no thought to what might be best for the organization as a whole. Susie was that kind of “leader,” and that came as a disappointing shock to all. No one could wait for her year to be over, which was another reason she could never have been Chair two years in a row.

  Sharon looked around. “Mmm-hmm. Looks like you’ve gotten this shipshape in a real hurry,” Sharon said. “Oh, hi, Ms. Smith,” she said when she noticed Elizabeth. She tugged nervously on her shirtsleeve. “Are you helping out?”

  Elizabeth looked up from the bills.

  “I am,” she said. Elizabeth had never been a big fan of Sharon’s back when Amanda and Sharon were growing up. There was always one child in a group who led the rest of the children into trouble, be it alcohol, drugs, sex, or whatever else. Among Amanda’s peers, Sharon had been that one girl. Elizabeth had never had much use for Sharon and had never been shy about saying so. The coolness that had existed twenty years ago when the girls were both teenagers had not lost any of its frost in the intervening years.

  “That’s really nice of you, Ms. Smith,” Sharon said. “Whose Neiman’s card?” she asked, noticing it at the corner of the desk. “Was that Susie’s?”

  “It wasn’t Susie’s,” Amanda said. “It’s mine. Why would you think it was Susie’s?”

  Sharon shrugged. “I didn’t mean any harm,” she said, backpedaling. “I just figured maybe you found it in one of the desk drawers. If it was Susie’s, I could return it to her.”

  “It’s not Susie’s,” Amanda repeated flatly. “Anyway, what brings you here? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Actually,” Sharon said, still eyeing the Neiman’s card, “I was wondering if maybe there was something I could do for you. I spent a lot of time in this office trying to give Susie a hand. I know where a lot of the bodies are bur—I mean, I know a lot of the computer systems they used. I know where a lot of the stuff is around the office, the important lists, and so on. I could show y’all some of that stuff if you wanted.”

  “Computer systems?” Elizabeth asked. “Where exactly are the computers?”

  Sharon gave a pained look. “Oh, they got repossessed,” she admitted ruefully. “I kept telling Susie they were leased computers, they weren’t ours. And she kept telling me, ‘Possession is nine-tenths of the law,’ whatever that means.”

  “It means Susie’s an idiot.”

  “Well, you won’t get much of an argument from me. Do you want to see where some of the hard copies are of the donor lists? We’ve got ’em going back twenty years.”

  “Why don’t you show my mom?” Amanda said. “I was just heading over to the bank.”

  “The bank? How come?”

  “There was a bunch of cash and checks in the office that hadn’t been deposited,” Amanda explained. “Take a look.”

  Sharon glanced in the shopping bag holding the cash and her eyes went wide.

  “Oh my God! There must be fifty thousand bucks in there!”

  “Eighty-two five, to be exact,” Elizabeth said. “What was Susie doing with all that cash anyway?”

  “It’s as if she lost her mind,” Sharon said, shaking her head disapprovingly. “I kept telling her she couldn’t be cashing checks and getting cash for herself. I’m telling you, I don’t know what day this stopped being the offices of the Longhorn Ball and became Susie World.”

  “I’m going to the bank,” Amanda said, tired of the conversation. Now she was starting to wonder whether the damage Susie had created could ever really be undone. “Mom, do you want to go look for those files with Sharon?”

  “Sure,” Elizabeth said, getting up.

  “I should be right back,” Amanda said. “I know it’s just two blocks, but I’m going to drive. I’m a little nervous about walking with all this cash.”

  “Mmm, I don’t blame you,” Sharon said. “I’d be nervous, too.”

  “Back soon.” Amanda headed out of her office, to her car, and on to the bank.

  Chapter 14

  At the bank, the very friendly teller took one look at the name on the account, frowned, and became much less friendly, but still very professional. “Just a minute. I’ve got to call a manager.”

  Amanda, holding the bags of cash and checks, was surprised.

  “A manager? How come?” The teller said nothing else.

  “Is there something wrong?” Amanda asked, puzzled.

  “Would you mind stepping to the side so I can take care of the next customer?”

  “Um, sure.” Amanda was now deeply confused. A few minutes later, a bank officer who
could not have been more than twenty-five approached Amanda.

  “I’m Lewis Johnson,” he said. He looked like he had played fullback for his college football team. Amanda wondered whether he was really a bank officer, or actually a security guard in a white shirt and tie. “Would you step over to my desk, if you please?”

  “Okay.”

  He led her to one of the desks opposite the tellers’ windows, ushering her into a chair. He sat opposite her with a pained expression. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re no longer authorized to accept deposits for the account of the Longhorn Ball.”

  “How come?” Amanda asked, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

  “There were some . . . irregularities with the account,” Lewis explained, choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid our bank no longer has a relationship with the Longhorn Ball. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I’m sure I don’t understand,” Amanda replied, experiencing a sinking feeling. “Why don’t you just cut to the chase and bring me up to speed.”

  Lewis Johnson looked as if he would rather feel the weight of another football team’s entire front line crashing down on him than continue this particular conversation. “Ma’am, it’s kind of a long story. . . . We just don’t want that business anymore. That’s all I’m really authorized to say.”

  “Authorized?” Amanda stood, defeated. Normally, she’d ask for someone with more authority, but she had a feeling it’d be useless. “Okay. Well, I’m really not that surprised. Thanks for your time. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

  Lewis smiled, clearly relieved that the conversation had ended so quickly. He had obviously been prepared for worse. He must have dealt directly with Susie a lot, Amanda thought.

  “Have you been thinking about refinancing?” he asked helpfully.

  Amanda couldn’t believe his nerve, but knew how to shut him down. “I rent.”

  Suddenly Lewis’s entire demeanor changed. “Have a nice day,” he said dismissively.

  Amanda figured that Lewis was likelier to get transported to another galaxy by aliens than to make enough to own a home in Hillside Park, but he had clearly bought into the general disdain that everyone in the community had for renters—even renters themselves.

  “Thanks for everything,” Amanda said tartly, turning to leave.

  She sat in her SUV for a few moments, thinking about the bizarre encounter. What must Susie have done at that bank to screw things up the way she did? Well, there were other banks in town. Amanda drove a couple of blocks until she came to the branch of another large commercial bank and she went inside.

  “I’d like to talk to an account manager,” she told the girl out front, “about opening a corporate account.”

  “Wonderful,” the perky receptionist said. “Someone will be with you in just a moment. Let me get you an officer.”

  A gentleman Amanda’s age introduced himself as Rick Stevens and showed Amanda to a desk. She explained her business, beginning, “I’d like to open up a corporate account.”

  Rick immediately reached into his desk and took out the appropriate documents. “Do you have anything identifying you as an officer?” he asked.

  Amanda shook her head.

  “How about a certificate of incorporation? Tax filings? You know, the usual sorts of things.”

  Amanda sat dumbstruck. “I hadn’t thought of any of that. I’m the new Chair of a philanthropic organization. I should have thought of all that. I guess I need all those things to open up an account, right?”

  “Sure,” Rick said, still friendly. “Congratulations on taking the helm. May I ask the name of the organization?”

  “The Longhorn Ball,” Amanda said proudly.

  The smile vanished from Rick’s face.

  “Um, did you say . . . the Longhorn Ball?”

  Amanda felt a sense of mounting alarm. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “Why?”

  Rick looked flustered. “Ma’am . . . please don’t take this the wrong way, but I know there’s no way our bank would be willing to do business with the Longhorn Ball.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to do an excellent job,” he said cautiously, “and everybody here in Hillside Park knows what a wonderful organization it is, what a great event it is, and how much money you guys raise for pediatric illness.”

  “Why don’t you just get to the point?” Amanda’s patience dwindled.

  Rick hesitated sadly. “I can’t imagine a single bank in Dallas that would want to have anything to do with the Longhorn Ball at this point. They burned every supplier in the city, many of whom are our customers. They’ve alienated every business that’s done business with them in the past. A lot of us here at the bank were wondering if there would ever be another Longhorn Ball after what happened this year. And you’re running it now? God bless you.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” Amanda objected, flustered. It was one thing for the crisis within the Longhorn Ball to be private knowledge among the membership of the women involved with it. It was another thing to see the ramifications of Susie’s actions reflected in the words and demeanor of a banker Amanda had never even laid eyes on before. It’s worse than I thought, she thought.

  “What am I supposed to do?” she asked, bewildered.

  “It’s not for me to say, ma’am,” Rick said, shaking his head. “But if I were in your shoes, I’d head right back to the office, type out a letter of resignation, leave it on your desk, and run away from that job like your hair is on fire.”

  Amanda stood to go. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “No offense intended,” Rick said, standing as well.

  “None taken. The reality of this is just a little harsh, as you can imagine. It’s all a little difficult to process, that’s all.”

  “I can indeed, ma’am. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’m gonna need it.”

  As the afternoon progressed, Amanda went to four other commercial banks in the neighborhood. The experience was repeated each time. The problem wasn’t that she lacked the appropriate corporate documents. The problem was that no bank wanted to touch the Longhorn Ball. From a banking standpoint, it had fallen to leper-like status. Dejected and unsure of what to do next, she returned to the office to find her mother finishing up the last of the bills.

  “Where is Sharon?” Amanda asked, seeing her mom was alone.

  “Oh, she took off a while ago. She gave me all the donors’ lists, the articles of incorporation, all the important stuff. It was hidden way in the back of one of the files. You know, I can see how Sharon’s managed to keep her foot in the door with some of the right people all these years, in spite of herself. While you were out, she was sweet, very helpful and knowledgeable . . . one-on-one with her I found myself having to remind myself of how much I dislike her. She can be very charming.”

  “Yes, and ‘Charm is deceitful,’ says the Bible.”

  “Well, we’d have never found those things in a month of Sundays without her, so let’s be grateful that Sharon’s nosy, always wants to make herself useful, and be in the middle of things. It sure helped today.”

  “That’s great, I’m glad you found all that stuff, especially the articles of incorporation. I’m going to need them if I’m going to open up an account somewhere.”

  “What do you mean open up an account?” Elizabeth asked. “Don’t we have one? I mean, what are all these checks?”

  “Nobody wants to bank with us,” Amanda told her.

  “What do you mean?” Elizabeth looked up from the check register. She had seated herself behind Amanda’s desk.

  “Our account’s frozen at People’s Bank. Then I went to four other banks and nobody wants to touch us. Susie really has screwed this up worse than we imagined, Mom.”

  Elizabeth let out a sarcastic laugh. “Too bad we sold all our banks! Sounds like our only hope would be to open an account with some out-of-state bank or a bank on the Internet that’s never even heard of us. Unless the
re’s some sort of central register for deadbeat philanthropies.”

  “We need a computer,” Amanda said. “Can I take some of this cash and buy one?”

  “I’d be careful. We don’t want people accusing you of sticking your hand in the till, which is exactly what people are accusing Susie of. Or will be, once Sharon tells everybody in Hillside Park about the cash.”

  “You think Sharon’s going to do that?”

  Elizabeth merely stared at her daughter.

  “As always . . . hope springs eternal,” Amanda said, sitting in the chair opposite the desk. “I guess I could go home, get on the computer and find an online bank. But I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the cash.”

  “Keep a thousand for petty expenses,” Elizabeth advised her, “and then go to a bank and get a cashier’s check so you can deposit the rest. And that way you won’t have to carry it around. Although with Sharon’s big mouth, you’re probably already a marked woman, having all that cash on you.”

  “That’s just great.”

  “I’ll tell you what. I’m not much for the Internet, and you’re the one who’s so big on bandwidth or whatever you call it. Why don’t you go home, go online, and get an account set up, and I’ll take care of the cash?”

  Amanda nodded. “I can hit Neiman’s on the same trip.” She looked on the corner of the desk where she had left her Neiman’s gift card. “Mom, didn’t you see me put my Neiman’s card right there?” she asked, pointing to the spot on the desk where she thought she had left it.

  “Uh-huh. Did you put it back in your purse?”

  “No, I’m certain I didn’t, but . . .”

  Amanda checked through her handbag anyway, just to be sure. “It’s not there,” she said, shaken. The women looked at each other and realized at the same time—“Sharon.”

  Chapter 15

  The difference between an evildoer and a martyr is spin—it’s not what happens that matters. It’s how people perceive what happens that makes the difference.

  Such was the case for Susie Caruth, whose husband, in spite of the rumor, promptly bailed her out of jail even before she had so much as set foot in a holding pen or drunk tank. Word reached Edward’s office of Susie’s arrest even before she and her two police escorts reached the station house for processing. One phone call from Edward to the desk officer ensured that Susie would spend her entire “incarceration” in the women police officers’ lounge, an astonishingly lavish facility donated to the department by the husband of a repeat drunk driver who got sick and tired of hauling his wife out of the drunk tank and thought that a major gift might smooth troubled waters the next time she got pulled over.