Chapter 17. Philanthropy 101
“Mrs. Cleese? This is Jacquetta Strike. We met at the will reading – remember?”
Judging from Avalon’s snort, it was a bad memory.
“I’m sorry, Miss Strike, I can’t talk now,” said the highly annoyed voice. ”I’ve got someone here.”
“I’ll be entering the monastery in a few days,” interrupted Jacquetta in an uncharacteristically forceful display, “I don’t know if you’ve heard – and I feel we have to decide something about the money.”
Miss Rainbeaux had warned her – however subtly – that this would work, and it did.
“The money?” Jacquetta had Avalon’s full attention.
“Mr. Dettler told me that the money I inherited was taken from a bequest to the Jane Pride Home.”
“He had no business saying that,” spluttered Avalon. “I could – I should – have him removed as executor! I – “
Jacquetta let her talk. The more time her quarry wasted the better. When she seemed to be losing steam vilifying the man Rose-Alice claimed was her ex-lover, Jacquetta put in, “I know I ought to donate it somewhere. But the question is where? I don’t want to do anything Miss Rainbeaux would disapprove of, that would violate her intent. I thought you might have some suggestions.”
Boy, did she! Jacquetta listened smugly for a full five minutes to an unbroken sales pitch about how she ought to purchase something from the house – for six thousand dollars, of course – to remember Miss Rainbeaux by.
Jacquetta hadn’t expected this – it suggested the possibility that she herself could get into the house. But the thought of Avalon peering over her shoulder the whole time made her wince.
“I really like that idea,” she said with honest regret, “but religious life aspirants are supposed to be divesting, not acquiring. Otherwise, I really wish-”
That triggered seven full minutes on how she should buy a stained glass window for the nuns! Wouldn’t they like a rainbow over their door? The windows were worth a lot more than six thousand dollars but possibly a co-donor could be found. Avalon herself had many philanthropic contacts actively searching out religiously based donations. Who wouldn’t want a gorgeous stained glass rainbow over their door, thought Jacquetta enviously. It was evident Avalon was wasting her sales skills as George Cleese’s wife.
“I’d love to just come look,” sighed Jacquetta. Why bring up the fact that donations to a community that was considering your postulancy was a big no-no? It looked too much like a bribe.
“I’m having an open house on the furnishings next Tuesday,” said Avalon. “Ten to four. I won’t be able to give you any personal time but you can certainly come look.”
“Thank you, I will,” said Jacquetta. “I’m looking forward to it.” Wasn’t that exactly what Miss Rainbeaux had asked Avalon not to do? But I suppose so long as it’s not an actual auction…
Once Avalon seemed to be getting her way she was a much smoother interlocutor.
“Goodbye Miss Strike,” she said silkily. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”
Jacquetta, too, was in a happier mood. Twenty whole minutes! Honey ought to be able to find something by then.
And she did. A triumphant Honey dumped the “1910” engagement book into Jacquetta’s lap.
“I hate it say it,” she admitted, “But I burned that bridge.”
“Oh, how?” asked Jacquetta, leafing through her treasure, only to be rewarded by a mass of receipts, postcards and religious newsletters.
“I told her the bathrooms and kitchen all needed an upgrade. She was furious.”
“Well, she’s my buddy now,” Jacquetta bragged. “Did she tell you she’s having an open house next week?”
“She’s telling the world. I, of course, will not be welcome. No broken apart pieces of books that I could see. Sorry about the refrigerator, but it was completely cleaned out. And if Miss Rainbeaux had a water bottle or thermos beside her bed, it’s not there now.”
“So now we know the murderer has regular access to the house. That’s something. And this is the mother lode.” She kissed the shabby black engagement book.
“This is my new bedside reading. I’m expecting all secrets to be revealed.”
Alysse Aallyn 
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