Falling for Her Soldier by Ophelia London Page A

to Charlie. Charlie did so, then returned to see Chick massaging the bridge of his nose, looking glum. “We’ve lost funding,” he finally said. “One of our biggest contributors comes from an estate, one lump sum a year, pays our rent. The heirs informed me that they want to use the money elsewhere.”
    “When did this happen?” Ellie asked.
    “I’ve known for more than a month,” he admitted. “I hoped something would turn up, but I just got off the phone with the bank; we might have to close.”
    “What?” Ellie exclaimed.
    “This is an expensive property,” Chick continued. “We run solely on donations, and now we’re short twenty grand. Unless we can raise some serious cash in the next week or two, we’re closing.”
    Charlie did not like the sound of that. True, he didn’t have an attachment to the WS like Sam or the other few dozen service members who came every day for support and counseling, not to mention the hundred who chose the WS as a cool hangout spot. But if it shut down, where would they go?
    “What can be done?” Ellie asked. “You name it.”
    “You don’t happen to have a few thousand dollars laying around, do you?”
    “No.” She chuckled darkly. “But…I can raise it.”
    Chick looked up. “Huh?”
    “When do you need the money?”
    “We’re on a lease. Next year’s is due in less than two weeks.”
    Charlie was looking back and forth at them like he was watching a tennis match.
    Ellie bit her thumbnail. “Two weeks,” she repeated. “Okay. We’ll have a…a huge fund-raiser, alert the public.”
    “Alert how?” Chick said. “I don’t have any connections to the media. Do you?”
    Ellie frowned, still chewing her nail. “No.”
    “I do,” Charlie said. They both looked at him. “Rick Duffy, he owns the newspaper in Franklin and he’s engaged to one of my good friends. He’s always looking for stories to get the community involved.”
    “Do you think he’d write something about our event?” Ellie asked, her bright eyes fixed on his.
    The way she was looking at him, Charlie was ready to promise anything. “I’m sure he would.”
    “Write about what event?” Chick asked. “Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but—”
    “We’ll have it here at the WS,” Ellie said. “That’s gotta be good publicity, right? When’s the next free evening?”
    Chick consulted his calendar. “The only thing I see is Friday.”
    “As in seven days away?”
    “That’s all I’ve got, Ellie.”
    “Seven days,” she repeated, stroking a handful of her hair and staring off to the side. “Okay. I’m on it.”
    “I’ll help,” Charlie blurted.
    Ellie’s face instantly brightened. “See,” she said to Chick while sliding next to Charlie. “We’ll take care of it.”
    Charlie felt the strangest stir by her use of the word “we.”
    “So don’t worry about a thing.” Without another word, she bounced out of the office.
    Charlie followed behind, ready to be put to work calling caterers or filling balloons or stuffing those little gift bag things. Oh wait, he was thinking of Tess’s wedding. That was the only big party he’d ever been involved in. It had been kind of a beating, which made him chuckle inside about being so gung-ho over helping Ellie now. He could see it in her eyes; she had a plan. Whatever it was, he was sure it would be epic.
    “So,” he said. “What are you thinking?”
    Ellie stared straight ahead, not blinking. “I have no idea…”
    …
    She got all the way to the exit when Hunter hooked his arm through hers and pulled them to a stop. “You don’t have a plan?” he asked. “But you told Chick—”
    “What was I supposed to do?” She looked at his arm touching hers, then up at him. “This place can’t close.”
    Hunter blew out a long exhale. “I know,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure it out— you will, I mean. Come on.” Before letting go, he gave her arm a squeeze, kind of like they were in on a secret.
    “Thank