Chapter Nineteen #3
The mood lifts as Arun details Luau Hut’s three loyalty tiers and starts listing the perks of platinum: one and a half points for every dollar spent, free shipping, exclusive coupons, an annual birthday gift. While the others joke about Arun’s Luau Hut obsession, my mind goes somewhere else.
Suppose we took a page from Luau Hut’s book?
We don’t have any sponsorship tiers—we were so desperate to take whatever we could get that it didn’t occur to us.
But if we offered additional perks, maybe we could attract more sponsors.
We could create a new VIP sponsorship level.
It could include some kind of special recognition, bigger ad space in the festival program and our website, swag bags with freebies of festival goodies, reserved parking spots.
Maybe this could be the way we make up for the funds Ryser pulled.
For our best chance of success, we’d have to really make these potential VIP folks feel special. Sending a mass email begging for money would be impersonal and easy to ignore. But if we gathered them in a room and pitched them in person, we might get the money we need to pull this off.
I chew this over while the others finish their drinks. After we step outside into the lamplit darkness and start down the winding path to the parking lot, I raise my idea.
“We should throw a dinner party,” I say, “to try to sell people on a VIP offering. It could bring in more money for the festival. People could promote what they want, and they’d get better booth placement at the festival, more advertising, freebies. Everybody wins.”
No one speaks right away.
“You…want to throw a dinner party?” Marina asks. “ You ?”
She undoubtedly remembers how stressful social gatherings are for me. Large groups of people, endless small talk, people chattering into my deaf ear, the exhaustion of smiling and nodding and pretending I wouldn’t rather be at home doing a puzzle and watching a movie.
Marina’s not the biggest fan of parties, either.
We once snuck out of her own quinceanera to sit cross-legged on the balcony and play Speed with the worn deck of cards in my purse.
That half hour we spent talking, laughing, and slapping cards down—until her mom caught us and made us rejoin the party—was the highlight of my night, and I like to think it was hers, too.
I can see why she’d be baffled that I’d willingly suggest throwing a party.
But this feels like the only solution. I’ll just have to think of it as one long presentation, slip back into Business Partner me.
“I don’t know if that would be enough to cover Art’s fee,” Arun says. “Art was a long shot anyway. Our resources are probably better spent working on the projects we already have in motion.”
The others murmur in agreement, which isn’t a surprise. Since Arun’s the only one of us with any events experience, we all defer to him when it comes to festival decision-making.
And Arun’s response is a reasonable one. Anyone who thought we still had the ten thousand dollars Ryser pledged would think our funding was in pretty good shape. But if he knew the truth, he’d side with me.
“I think we should,” I try again. “We want to make this festival a success, right?”
“Not if we’re stretching ourselves too thin,” Arun says.
“We won’t,” I promise. “I’ll do all the work.”
“Well…” Arun rubs the back of his neck, thinking it over. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to bolster our finances a little more.”
I breathe a quiet exhale. “Exactly.”
“Who knows? Maybe it could bring in enough for Art.”
I keep silent on that one. Right now, it doesn’t matter what Arun thinks the money is for. I can tell him the truth later, after the dinner party brings in the money we’re missing. We still can’t afford Art McKenzie is a far better letdown than The festival’s canceled and nothing matters .
“So your plan is to invite people over, cook for them, and say, ‘Please give us money’?” Marina asks.
“Yep. Personal touches go a long way.” I’m met with more skeptical silence, and it’s hard to keep from explaining myself further to make them understand I’m not delusional.
“That is true,” Jen says. “In the third season of Diamond Divas , when Kayleigh wanted Aiden to invest in her couture clothing line for cocker spaniels, she invited him over for dinner.”
My heart fills with appreciation for Jen and her encyclopedic knowledge of reality TV. “See? Who are we to deny the business sense of Kayleigh from Diamond Divas ?”
The others chuckle, and my muscles relax. I’ve got the go-ahead. Now I just need to secure the location.
“Hey, Marina,” I say in an innocent voice.
“Yeah?”
“Now I’m thinking about where to host the dinner party.”
“Okay.” When I fix her with a hopeful look, she catches on and wrinkles her nose. “No. You’re not using my house.”
“You know my dad’s dining room is tiny,” I protest. “He has that little round table that only fits four people. But your dining room. It’s enormous. It’s magnificent. It has that big table, and all those chairs.”
“But my house isn’t…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
“Isn’t what?” I prod.
“It’s just not the best place for it,” she says.
I keep playing innocent. “But you love your house, right? That’s what you said.”
Marina’s jaw sets as she stares me down.
There’s no way she’ll admit to her house’s state of disrepair.
I tried bringing it up once a few weeks ago, but she just changed the subject.
Now, though, she can’t avoid a direct question.
When her eyes narrow with empty threats, I know she’s falling into my trap and hating every second of it.
“I guess I see no reason why we couldn’t host it at my house,” she says slowly, over-enunciating every word.
“Great,” I chirp at her knowing scowl. I soften the blow by saying, “I promise I’ll do all the cooking and whatever it takes to get your house ready for the party.”
Marina’s grunt is wholly unconvinced, but I don’t care. Already my sights are set on throwing my all into this dinner party to get the money we need to keep this festival going.
Another thought springs forward, gift-wrapped in hope, or possibly delusion.
What if the festival is such a success that it convinces Amanda and the Ryser executives to keep the Ryser Cares office open?
If the festival ends up raising enough money to save the community center and help revive Greenstead, that may be the best possible case for why Ryser Cares needs to stay open.
It’s not just the festival that hinges on this dinner party, then. The future of Ryser Cares and the livelihoods of my coworkers might depend on it, too.
I just need this dinner party to be a success—no matter what it takes.