It's Just a Stage by Amy Jo Cooper

Author:Amy Jo Cooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cooper, road to avonlea, amy jo cooper, amy cooper
Publisher: Davenport Press

Chapter Twelve

Having acted as Cupid’s messenger, Sara flew home as quickly as possible. The greatest part of her mission had been accomplished. The rest was just a matter of time.

A few random snowflakes had begun to fall by the time Sara entered Rose Cottage. The warmth of a fire in the parlor hearth felt cozy against her cold skin as she removed her hat and coat.

The cheerful fire was for the benefit of the biannual meeting of the Avonlea Improvement Society, an organization of civic-minded women dedicated to the beautification of Avonlea. Hetty King was hosting. Sara entered the parlor quietly just as Mrs. Spencer, the reigning president, was finishing her enumeration of the committee’s many accomplishments.

Mrs. Spenser’s voice rang out in authoritative tones. “And so, ladies, I am proud to say we have accomplished a great deal in the last year towards the beautification of our village and its surroundings.”

Sara saw Theodora Dixon, who sat absorbed in the words of the speaker. Sara made her way towards the hapless woman, managing in the process to step on Mabel Sloane’s foot and trip over Deirdre Sutherland’s knitting basket.

“We’ve painted the school and replaced the plants around the town hall,” Mrs. Spencer’s voice boomed.

Poor Theodora nearly jumped out of her skin when Sara lightly touched her arm.

“Don’t worry about your problem, Miss Dixon. Things are moving in the right direction,” Sara whispered, more loudly than she had intended.

“Ahem.” Mrs. Spencer cleared her throat in a very pointed manner. Sara looked up to see everyone staring at her and Miss Dixon. Theodora turned such a deep shade of crimson she was almost purple.

“Sara, please sit down and don’t interrupt,” Hetty ordered sharply, grabbing her niece by the arm and depositing her in a nearby chair.

Mrs. Spencer continued. “But we still have an eyesore to deal with. Perhaps, as treasurer, Theodora, you could elaborate.”

Theodora rose nervously, almost knocking her chair over in the process. Mabel Sloane caught it before it fell.

“As you know,” she began, her voice tense and high, for speaking to groups made her nervous, “ever since Thomas Bickle’s barn burned to the ground he has not lifted a baby finger to clear the charcoal remains, let alone rebuild.”

Great murmurs of indignation filled the room. Theodora took courage from the response and continued in a more forceful vein. “I’m afraid that we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.”

“Here, here.”

“Unfortunately,” Theodora cautioned, “even though we’ve already had a bake sale and a rummage sale, we are still short of funds. Does anyone have any fresh ideas as to how we could raise some more money?”

The room fell silent. Nobody moved; nobody raised a hand. Poor Theodora was afraid that her whole project would end up in disaster.

Sara raised her hand tentatively.

“Yes, Sara?” Theodora prompted, relief flooding her every feature.

“Maybe Miss Plumtree could give a recitation.”

“Definitely not,” Hetty snapped before anyone else could say anything.

“Everyone would pay to hear her, I’m sure of it,” Sara protested.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Sara.

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