Free Sight Shot (Imogene Museum Mystery #3) by Jerusha Jones Page B

funds to be spent annually for capital improvements. You probably noticed the mansion’s showing her age. The board of directors would like to pull in additional donors and expand interest in the Imogene’s preservation. People tend to be more committed if their pocketbooks are involved.”
    I leaned in and whispered. “Just my opinion, but I also think the board wants to use fundraisers as a vetting technique for future board members. A few of our trustees are in their 80s, and I think they’re scouting for new blood. The appointments are for life, and each trustee chooses their own replacement.”
    “ Where does Rupert fit in this?”
    “ He’s the last Hagg. Originally, the whole board was made up of Haggs, but the family died off pretty fast.”
    A look of alarm crossed Frankie ’s face.
    “ Oh, Rupert’s perfectly healthy,” I hurried on. “But he is the last of the line. He’ll need to groom a successor.”
    “ You?”
    “ Nooo.” I smiled and shook my head. “I love curating far too much to give it up. I’ve had my fill of dreary meetings and budget worries. I’d rather restring marionettes, research unsigned paintings and figure out how to display pewter tea caddies.”
    Frankie patted my knee. “It’s good to know what you want.”
    The room was filling up. I watched Frankie out of the corner of my eye while she observed the townsfolk — adults with hugs and back pats for each other, kids with cookie crumbs on their faces playing tag around their parents. The volume level was escalating rapidly.
    I wondered what Frankie wanted. A cross-country trip on a lark, and at her age? I guessed she had a destination in mind. I might be looking for a new gift shop manager in a few weeks or a few months when she decided to move on.
    Then again, I’d dumped everything, leaving a high-paying job and my family, such as they are, for the great unknown — a job I’d never done before and residence in a fifth-wheel trailer instead of a respectable house. All because of an unfaithful ex-fiancé. And I learned I love the freedom. So who’s to say? Maybe Frankie would stick.
    “ Looks like Sally could use a hand refilling cookie platters.” I stood.
    “ I’ll come with you,” Frankie replied. “I’m happiest when I’m busy.”
    Soon, Sally and Frankie had the sugar and caffeine refueling well in hand, so I wandered outside. A crowd was gathering on the sloping lawn between the parking lot and the marina — the prime viewing location. I strolled the periphery of the group, looking for someone to join.
    Greg had his arm around Lindsay ’s shoulders, and they were in laughing conversation with her parents — a nice foursome. Mac had Val tucked tight against his side. They were off by themselves, and Val waved when she saw me. But I didn’t want to interrupt their tête-à-tête. Lauren and Paul and their kids were huddled together on a blanket, the baby whimpering while Lauren rocked her.
    Jim Carter, all-around handyman, and Ford Huckle, the Imogene ’s groundskeeper and caretaker, stood shoulder to shoulder. As I neared them, I caught a phrase — “loosen the wing nut with WD-40, then clamp…” — and swerved away. I’d have nothing to add to that conversation.
    I felt terribly conspicuous, the only solitary person in the whole group. Good thing it was dark. Maybe I could hunker down unnoticed somewhere.
    I found a boulder close to the river’s edge and scooted onto it. My toes felt as though they were turning into ice chunks. A breeze rippled across the few spots where my skin was bare, and I pulled my neck into my shoulders, creating as small a profile as possible. My fingers stiffened, and my nose began to drip.
    A short khaki figure appeared and plunked down beside me. “Gotta few minutes.” The thin wire frames of Sheriff Marge’s reading glasses glinted in the starlight. “Amos’ll be alright. Doc thinks he had a mild stroke, but as you noticed, he was about as coherent as he ever