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seats?”
    Marley stumbled toward a chair at the far end of the conference table, still trying to wrap her brain around the volunteer dogcatcher in holey slippers masquerading as a wealthy trustee oozing old money. Or was it the other way around?
    At the other end of the table, Will tapped a stack of papers with an expensive-looking pen. “Let’s get things started, since I know everyone’s time is valuable. Ms. Cartman, since this is your first board meeting, would you mind introducing yourself before we kick off the executive session?”
    Marley stood and smoothed the front of her skirt with her fingers. Be brief, be sincere, be seated, she coached herself silently. She cleared her throat and smiled.
    “I’m Marley Cartman, and I’m delighted to meet all of you and excited to be working with the Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary,” Marley announced.
    “Cheez Whiz,” Will said.
    Marley blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Cheez Whiz. It’s the acronym for Cascade Historical Society and Wildlife Sanctuary. Much easier to say.” Will smiled, making his mismatched eyes sparkle, and Marley forgot her name for a moment.
    “Oh, CHSWS.” Marley nodded. “Okay then.”
    Susan cleared her throat. “Will’s family has been volunteering here for many years. It’s his chief goal to keep things… well, lively here.”
    “To keep it from being stuffy and dull so guests actually want to come here and learn things about wildlife and natural history instead of wanting to drown themselves in the otter pond out of sheer boredom,” Will said, turning back to Marley. “Sorry to interrupt. You can keep going with your bio.”
    “Right.” Marley cleared her throat. “I have a degree in economics, and I’ve worked in philanthropy and donor relations for twelve years now, most recently for Woolstein and Associates in Portland. I’ve done pro bono fund-raising work for the Bend Humane Society for a couple years now, so I’m thrilled to finally make it to Bend on a more permanent basis.”
    She flashed her best smile at the assembled group, pleased she hadn’t blurted what was really running through her mind. My name is Marley and my hands smell like dead fish, Stan Martin’s fly is down, and I’ve tongue-wrestled with the board chairman.
    “Do you golf, dear?” asked a woman at the end of the table wearing diamond earrings the size of small grapefruits. She smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We have twenty-six courses in Central Oregon, and so many business deals happen out on the course, you know.”
    Marley smiled back as her palms began to perspire. “I’ve been known to pick up a club from time to time,” she replied, trying to remember the last time she’d done that. Did visiting a driving range in college count?
    A man with salt-and-pepper sideburns picked up his green-and-yellow coffee mug, and Marley tried to remember which Oregon sports team had those colors. “Are you a fan of the Oregon State Beavers or the U of O Ducks?”
    A man across the table hooted and stroked his orange- and-black tie. “There’s the million-dollar question! Which are you, Marley—a duck or a beaver?”
    The group laughed, and Marley tried to join them as she fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t alienate anyone. “I’m not really a fan of college sports,” she replied slowly, wiping her palms on her skirt. “But I’m very excited to take advantage of all the outdoor recreation Central Oregon has to offer.”
    A frowning older woman cleared her throat. “You’ve been briefed on our dress code, correct?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Marley squeaked, smoothing a hand over her tights.
    “Good. And I trust you’ve been briefed on the reasons your predecessor is no longer employed with the organization. You’re aware of our policies regarding fraternization between company executives, members of the board, and the employees we oversee?”
    Marley tried not to let her surprise show. The