The Girl I Used to Be by Heidi Hostetter (that summer book .txt) 📕

“Good idea,” Mrs. Ivey calmly announced, her gaze resting on Jill. “You should have all the facts before you make any big decisions.”

Jill couldn’t imagine being offered a lead photography job and not accepting, but she didn’t want to appear overeager, so she agreed. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

“The festival is called Light Up the Bay and it started years—no, decades—ago. To benefit the school…” Betty turned to Kaye. “It was Kaye’s idea originally, so maybe she should explain.”

“The idea may have started with me,” Kaye objected gently, “but the execution was definitely a group effort. Years and years ago, the Dewberry Beach Trumpet ran a story about a public school not far from here that refused to serve meals to children who carried a negative balance on their account. Lower income children in that school system were served breakfast in the morning as well as lunch, so denying them both meals meant they were forced to go all day without eating. It was barbaric and completely unfair.” Kaye frowned. “Between us, we collected enough to pay off many of the balances. But the following year it happened again. So we decided we needed a longer-term solution.”

“We incorporated,” Betty announced confidently.

“Not quite,” Kaye corrected, reaching across the table to squeeze Betty’s hand. “We’re a non-profit. Chase helped with the filing and the financials. Then we all worked together to organize the fundraisers. For a long time we did a little of everything: raffles, bake sales, rummage sales. We auctioned off babysitting or dog-walking services—whatever we could think of—but our needs were always bigger than our proceeds.”

She nudged Brenda with her shoulder. “And then this one here suggested an art auction.” Kaye’s smile widened. “We have quite a few local artists and Brenda is one of the best.”

Brenda frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the praise, but Kaye reached for her arm. “I know for a fact that the pottery you donated was headed for the Tungsten Gallery in Manhattan. That made the news—local and regional.”

Brenda laughed then. “Mrs. Ivey made sure it did.”

Mrs. Ivey’s eyes sparkled over the rim of her teacup. “One of my former students is a features producer at WABC in New York. She was delighted to help.”

“That first year we raised enough money to pay off the children’s overdue accounts,” Kaye continued. “The next, we raised enough to pay for all meals for every kid in that school for the whole year.”

“That’s incredible,” Jill said.

“It was, so we kept it going.” Betty glanced at Kaye. “We have a few smaller fundraisers during the summer, but the biggest of the year by far is Light Up the Bay.”

“When does it start?” Jill had seen the banner stretched across the street but couldn’t recall the dates.

“This weekend,” Brenda said. “The live auction happens on Friday. We already have photographs of the pieces up for sale. The artists provided them, and Ryan—Kaye’s son-in-law—put them on the website, ready to go. But the page needs something more. Right now, it looks as if the auction could be held anywhere. We want a more local feel, photographs of the shore, the town, the community setting up the festival venues. We realized we need a full-time photographer to make that happen, and that’s why we tacked the card on Danny’s board.”

“Danny’s board?” Jill was momentarily confused.

“The Dewberry Deli,” Mrs. Ivey offered. “If you’ve been here for any length of time, you must have eaten there. It’s one of the only restaurants in town open during the off-season.”

“Oh, I have. I didn’t recognize the name ‘Danny.’”

“Danny Esposito and his brothers own the shop now. They bought it from their mother, Mary Ann. She still works there sometimes, as does her mother. Nonna’s salads are legendary in Dewberry Beach.”

Jill remembered the pesto and bit back a smile.

“The art auction is what will generate the most money,” Kaye continued, lifting a slice of spice cake from the plate. “But the Light Up the Bay Festival spans the entire weekend. It’s evolved to what we hope is a family event. A banquet and the art auction are held on Friday at the Yacht Club. Saturday morning is the Pumpkin Run, followed by a pancake breakfast at the fire station. Saturday afternoon is the Halloween carnival, with the community cook-off and then lanterns across the bay at night. Sunday is the boat parade and milk carton race. I think that’s everything.” Kaye’s brows knit together. “We want pictures to show the mood, to draw in online bidders. Make them remember how wonderful Dewberry Beach is.”

“Something to give summer residents a chance to reconnect,” Jill offered.

“Exactly,” Brenda said with a smile. “What’s tricky is that there’s a lot going on this weekend, in a lot of different places.” She glanced at Betty. “Betty, do you have any extra flyers?”

“I think so.” Betty rose from the table and rummaged through a box of auction material until she found what she wanted. “This is the last of them.” She laid the flyer on the table, then settled back into her chair. “The rest are up. The banner’s been strung across the road near Mueller’s Bakery too. The firefighters brought out their ladder truck and hung it the week before last.”

“Can I keep this?” The schedule of events would be useful. Jill studied the page.

“Ideally, we’d like a variety of photographs from every venue—or as many as you can get to. We realize you can’t be everywhere at once,” Brenda explained. “You do the best you can, and we’ll make it work.”

“I think Jill is just what we need,” Mrs. Ivey put in, with that same knowing smile. “She knows what’s important. She’ll do the right thing.”

“Right.” Kaye reached for a spiral-bound notebook and flipped through it. “We haven’t told you what the job pays yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it anyway,” Jill said, and Kaye glanced up, confused. Jill explained, “It’s for a good cause—a