Mr.Brightside

chapter 124

The First Hurdle

Jack arrived at the Council House early, his arms laden with materials for the fundraiser's first promotional event: a community kick-off meeting. Flyers, banners, and sample posters jostled in his grip as he navigated the hallways, each step echoing in the quiet morning.

The kick-off was Clara's idea—a way to galvanize local support by explaining the importance of the Council House in person. They had invited donors, volunteers, and curious residents, hoping to leave them inspired and committed to the cause.

As Jack entered the main hall, Clara was already there, meticulously arranging the chairs into neat rows. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're here early," Jack said, setting down his load.

"Couldn't sleep," Clara admitted, not looking up. "Kept thinking about everything that could go wrong."

Jack gave her a reassuring smile. "Or everything that could go right. This is your strong suit, Clara—connecting with people. They'll listen."

She paused, meeting his gaze for a moment before nodding. "I hope you're right."

By mid-morning, the hall buzzed with activity. Volunteers set up refreshments near the back, while Jordan checked the AV system for Clara's presentation. Tanya handed out programs at the door, greeting attendees with her characteristic warmth.

Jack found himself stationed by the entryway, welcoming guests. He noticed a mix of familiar faces—local business owners, history buffs, and even a few high school students. But among the supportive smiles, he also caught wary glances from those skeptical of the Council House's worth.

As the chairs filled, Clara took a deep breath and stepped onto the small stage they'd set up. She adjusted the microphone and surveyed the crowd.

"Good morning," she began, her voice steady despite the faint tremor Jack knew was there. "Thank you all for taking the time to join us today. It means the world to me—and to everyone who believes in the Council House's mission."

She clicked the remote in her hand, and the first slide of her presentation appeared on the screen behind her: a black-and-white photo of the Council House in its early days.

"This building isn't just stone and mortar," Clara said, her tone growing more confident. "It's a witness to our town's history. It's where our grandparents danced, where our parents volunteered, and where our children learn about the past. It's a part of us."

Jack watched the audience closely as Clara spoke. He saw heads nodding in agreement, expressions softening as her words sank in.

Then she shifted to the challenges. The photos of cracks and structural damage drew murmurs of concern. Clara explained the urgency without sensationalizing, outlining the repairs needed and the stakes if they failed.

"But we're not here to dwell on what's broken," she said, her voice lifting. "We're here to talk about how we can fix it—together. This fundraiser isn't just about raising money. It's about showing that this community cares enough to save its history."

When she finished, the room erupted in applause. Jack couldn't help but grin as Clara stepped off the stage, her cheeks flushed with relief.

"Great job," he said when she approached him.

"Thanks," she said, her smile small but genuine.

The Q&A session that followed was a mixed bag. Many questions were practical—about costs, timelines, and volunteer opportunities. But a few were more critical.

"Why should we pour money into an old building when there are more pressing issues in town?" one man asked, his arms crossed.

Clara answered without hesitation. "I understand that concern," she said. "But preserving our history isn't about choosing it over other priorities. It's about valuing what makes our town unique and ensuring it's here for future generations. The Council House isn't just a building—it's a symbol of who we are."

Her response seemed to satisfy most, but Jack could still sense a few lingering doubts.

After the meeting, Clara and Jack lingered in the hall as attendees trickled out. Several people stopped to express their support or offer donations.

"I'll host a bake sale," said Mrs. Patel. "All proceeds will go to the fundraiser."

A group of teens approached next, asking about volunteer opportunities. Clara's face lit up as she handed them a flyer detailing ways to get involved.

But as the room emptied, Jack noticed Clara's shoulders slump slightly.

"Hey," he said, stepping closer. "That went really well."

She gave a half-smile. "It did. But there's still so much to do. And I can't shake the feeling that we didn't win everyone over."

"You can't change everyone's mind in one day," Jack said gently. "But you planted a seed. That's what matters."

Clara nodded, though the doubt didn't entirely leave her expression.

As they packed up, Jack felt a renewed determination. Clara was carrying the weight of the Council House on her shoulders, but she didn't have to do it alone.

"We'll get there," he said as they loaded the last of the materials into the storage room.

Clara looked at him, her expression softening. "Yeah," she said quietly. "We will."

The first hurdle had been cleared, but the journey ahead was still daunting. Yet, in that moment, standing in the empty hall, they both felt a flicker of hope. And for now, that was enough.

--------------------

839 words