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“Anyway. That’s all in the past,” she said a little too cheerfully. “Let’s eat.”
…
The room where the centennial committee met for their Thursday night planning session was especially loud and hectic tonight because every person on the committee—and quite a number not on the committee—had felt the need to be present.
Allie guessed it had something to do with the ongoing crime scene outside.
Chairwoman Meredith Sanders was in her element at the front of the room, basking in the attention. As always. Her chestnut hair was worn long and straight, something Allie was certain required monthly maintenance to reach such a shine. A cream-colored knit dress showcased the other woman’s toned, lithe body, courtesy of daily workouts with h
er personal trainer. When your most recent ex-husband was a member of the fourth richest family in the state, time and money were in high supply.
Must be nice.
Ally took a seat.
“Let’s go ahead and get started.” Meredith paused a moment to give people an opportunity to get settled, her sharp brown eyes urging them to be quick. “We are all bereft at the discovery of Mr. Williams’s body here at the school three days ago. A beloved teacher we all considered a friend. Yesterday’s mass held by the student body was rather poignant.” Meredith continued in this vein for a few more minutes, giving accolades to a man Allie knew for a fact Meredith had hated ever since he gave her a D on their first English paper freshman year.
Allie glanced around the crowded room, recognizing many of the faces—all of the members of the planning committee, Janine and her boyfriend, Tim Allred—the biology teacher—Jeremy, Father Shay, and Señora Sanchez. Allie also recognized the plain but brooding face of Señora Sanchez’s son, Javier, seated next to his mother, likely present because of his mother’s dislike of driving after dark. There was also a handful of notable members of the school’s advisory board, including, if she wasn’t mistaken, Elizabeth Fratto—Sam’s mom. She looked frailer than Allie remembered.
Mrs. Fratto had served on the school’s advisory board off and on for more years than Allie could remember. She had the stately, commanding presence of someone who knew she belonged. The suit she was wearing was no doubt a designer, but which designer, Allie couldn’t begin to guess. Truth be told, Mrs. Fratto had always been a little frightening. She was just so imposing and…well, she was Sam’s mom.
Despite herself, Allie automatically scanned the room for him. She wasn’t disappointed. He was standing at the back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, which seemed to be his favorite stance. He was quietly observing everyone in the room. His gaze fell on her, and she squirmed at being caught spying on him. She nodded slightly and pretended to finish searching the room for a different target before turning back to the front.
“…and there may be an understandable delay in the progress of the much-anticipated peace gardens while the police continue to have the area closed as a crime scene. But we must try to maintain our focus in the coming weeks,” Meredith was saying. “As unfortunate as the discovery is, we need to remember the school centennial is a monumental event for which we have been planning for well over a year. We can’t lose our perspective. In fact, I think our next order of business should be to give a resounding hand to our newest faculty member, New York Times Bestselling author, Mr. Sam Fratto.”
Meredith paused for the applause. Allie was curious to know how Sam was taking the attention but refused to turn back around.
“Sam has agreed to come on board as a visiting member of the faculty through the remainder of the school year and lend his name to help garner additional publicity. In fact, Joyce—” Meredith looked around the crowd and nodded when she spotted the woman. “Why don’t you come up and tell us where we are on the publicity schedule for the coming weeks? And then we’ll follow up with Anne-Marie about the donations we’ve secured so far.”
Allie wondered if she should interrupt now with her idea. Sure, Meredith hadn’t particularly cared for Mr. Williams, but other people might be supportive. If she could just muster the courage to get up. Well, she would give Meredith a little more time. If no one spoke up by the end, Allie would.
She twisted a thin tissue for the next half hour, trying to calm her shaking fingers while Meredith directed the meeting. Meredith was an expert at directing other people to do the work and taking all the credit. Which, Allie supposed, was necessary in the grand scheme of things, but it also meant a lot more work landed onto her own shoulders when the other woman got too busy with her life of leisure to follow through. Such as with this past weekend’s ground breaking ceremony.
Finally, it sounded like Meredith was wrapping things up—with no further business from the committee or audience. Now or never. With reluctance, she raised her hand.
“Yes, Allie. Was there something you wanted to add?” Meredith’s tone was impatient.
“Well…” Allie cleared her throat. “I thought maybe, since we’re honoring the school’s first hundred years at the Founder’s Day picnic and Gala, we could reserve a moment to honor Mr. Williams’s memory, too. Perhaps through a video presentation or slide show? I believe there’s also some room in the budget that would allow for a bench, or a fountain, or something, we could dedicate to Mr. Williams. It would be a beautiful addition to the peace gardens.”
“That’s awfully thoughtful of you, Al.” Allie gritted her teeth at the condescension in Meredith’s tone. “And I don’t want to appear callous or anything, but we have to remember the school’s reputation. We’ve been striving these past few months to get the word out about what St. Andrew’s Academy has to offer our students and, in turn, the community, by turning out such fine graduates. Graduates like Sam Fratto, a nationally recognized author.” Meredith paused a moment to smile widely at Sam. “I worry that if we emphasize Mr. Williams and the…unfortunate fact that he appears to have been murdered, too much publicity will be turned toward the murder investigation. It could cloud everything we’ve been striving for with this event. We only want to focus on the positive things, don’t we?”
A number of people grunted in approval, and there was a smattering of applause.
Jeremy, who had been sitting in the front row, went to stand next to Meredith. “I know your intentions are in the right place, Allie. But Meredith has a point. I’m not sure the Gala is the right forum for that sort of video. I do think your suggestion of adding a small memorial dedicated to him in the peace gardens has merit. But we can table that for further discussion when we get closer to the centennial.”
Jeremy stepped aside, and Meredith resumed her place at the podium. Allie’s heart sank. Was she the only one who had thought Mr. Williams deserved better?
“Yes…Mrs. Fratto,” Meredith said. “Good to see you here tonight. Please, go ahead.”
Mrs. Fratto remained seated, but her voice was strong and still managed to carry through the room. “As a major financial contributor to the school, including a generous donation I made on behalf of my husband’s memory earlier this year, I think…”—she paused, and Allie was certain she was trying to recall her name—“Allie’s suggestion is a wonderful idea. To honor a man who, in my opinion, molded a number of St. Andrew’s students, including my own son, to go on to become the strong, influential people they are today.”
Allie saw Meredith take a moment to recover. The wheels were, no doubt, turning to see how she could salvage this. It was one thing to marginalize Allie’s suggestions, quite another to oppose someone of such power and stature as Mrs. Fratto. This was Allie’s chance to press her claim home, before it was too late. She stood.
“Recently, I volunteered”—she paused and looked pointedly at Jeremy— “to take over the school’s centennial video project. There are boxes of old film and VHS tapes and photos in the archives that I’ll be reviewing. I know that in the years Mr. Williams was here, he helped direct the high school video yearbook staff and the school paper. There will surely be some footage of him. What I’m proposing is a brief, five-minute clip honoring Mr. Williams and everything he did for the school. Many of us might not be where we are without him.”
Jeremy looked alarmed. “I doubt there’s much left. You have a big enough task as it is without digging through the mountains of stuff down there to find clips of Mr. Williams. Besides, I believe anything we did have was returned to his family back in Ohio after the police closed the investigation. To his sister, I recall.”
Allie breathed deeply, willing herself to stay on task and not buckle under the pressure. For Mr. Williams. “You may be right. But if I come across something, I would like to have the committee’s permission to put together a brief, respectful montage in his honor. I can assure you the video will be short and tastefu
