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I shake his hand and take a seat. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m currently organizing a fundraising festival. The money will go to help military vets and first responders who are struggling with PTSD, as well as to help their families.”
“Katelyn did briefly mention that to me.” Katelyn being his daughter. He leans back in his chair. “Tell me more.”
I spend the next few minutes explaining the specific goals for the money I hope to raise. He doesn’t say anything. Just listens intently.
“As you can imagine,” I explain, “it’s not cheap to run a festival. Everyone involved in it is volunteering their time. And that includes the entertainment. But we still need to pay for the various permits, the marketing, and the equipment rentals. So I’m looking for sponsors.”
“How much more are you looking at?”
“We still need twenty thousand dollars.” The majority of our sponsors and donors were able to give amounts in the several thousand-dollar range, but nothing like what we still need.
He steeples his hands in front of his chest and nods, the bob of his head slow and thoughtful. “Not to sound cutthroat or anything, but how will I benefit if I help sponsor the event? I mean, business is business after all. As you can respect being a business owner yourself.”
“Everyone who sponsors the festival will get recognition and their name on the promotional materials and signage at the event.” The usual sponsorship perks—which of course adds to the additional costs of the event.
“It all sounds good. Especially what you plan to use the money for.” Anthony leans forward and folds his arms on the desk. “But what’s the real reason you decided to organize the festival?”
“Excuse me?” An uncomfortable feeling twists in my gut.
“Something tells me you aren’t organizing the festival to help promote your construction company, Troy. Or because you woke up one morning and decided to help those individuals struggling with PTSD. What’s the real reason you’re doing it? The blood-and-guts reason. The thing that inspired you to throw yourself into planning this.”
“My best friend was a first responder. He was diagnosed with PTSD after working at the site of the horrific bus accident last year that took the lives of all those junior hockey players. He wasn’t the same after that.” I explain to Anthony what happened to Colton and how it has impacted Olivia and Nova.
I can tell from Anthony’s expression he remembers the accident. The details of it are tough for most of us to shake because it happened so close to Maple Ridge. And for a while, there was a lot of media coverage.
“Okay,” Anthony says after a moment. He looks at his computer screen and stands. “I’ll donate twenty thousand dollars. I need to leave now, and I’ll be away next week at an antique car show. But book an appointment with Angela for next Friday, and you and I can hammer out the details then.”
I stand and shake his hand once more. “Thank you so much, Anthony. Your support means everything.” It means I can breathe a little easier when it comes to the event.
I leave his office and drive to the Wilderness Warriors property. The first group of military vets arrive a week from tomorrow, and I want to finish painting the trim on the final cabin before the festival-planning meeting this afternoon.
I unlock the cabin door and step inside the space that’s about the size of a large hotel room. Like all the cabins my brothers and I built, it’s wheelchair accessible. I go into the large bathroom. Several pink sticky notes cling to the mirror. All with the recognizable Morse code dots and dashes.
It doesn’t take me long to decipher Jess’s Morse-coded message:
Have fun at Game Night. If you win, I will give you your prize tomorrow night. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. Are we still on for a movie at your house?
I pull my phone from my shorts and type a reply.
Me: Yes, we’re still on. Looks like I better win. I want my prize. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink
I hit send on another message.
Me: Are you sure you don’t want to join us tonight?
We ended up switching Game Night for today. It’s Thursday, but Lucas and Simone have plans for tomorrow.
Jess responds a minute later.
Jess: Yes. I’m sure. See you tomorrow!
I type back.
Me: I could go over to your place instead of going to Em’s for Game Night
Jess: No. Don’t miss out on that because of me. I’ve got lots to do tonight. But tomorrow night you’re all mine ;)
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