Mr.Brightside

chapter 132

Preparations and Doubts

The week leading up to the gala was a blur of activity. Every moment seemed filled with planning meetings, last-minute adjustments, and a flurry of emails. Clara barely had time to breathe, let alone think, as the weight of the event bore down on her.

She was in the Council House's main hall, now transformed into a hive of preparation. Volunteers moved quickly around her, hanging decorations, arranging tables, and double-checking seating charts. Tanya was across the room, clipboard in hand, barking instructions to a delivery driver unloading floral arrangements at the door.

Clara stood in the middle of it all, staring at her list of tasks. Her mind raced, caught between the fear of something going wrong and the hope that this event would be the breakthrough they needed.

"Clara, where do you want the auction items displayed?" a volunteer called out.

She looked up, blinking away her daze. "Uh, against the far wall," she said, pointing. "We'll need a spotlight on the table so people can see the items clearly."

The volunteer nodded and moved off.

Jack appeared at her side, holding out a water bottle.

"Drink," he said simply, his brow furrowed in concern.

Clara took it gratefully. "Thanks. I didn't even realize how thirsty I was."

"You've been running on fumes," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "When was the last time you sat down?"

"I'll sit when this is done," she said with a tired smile.

Jack shook his head. "You say that every time. You need to take a break, Clara. Even a short one."

She sighed, knowing he was right but feeling like she couldn't afford to stop. "Maybe in a little while."

Jack crossed his arms, giving her a pointed look. "You won't be any help to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion. Come on, ten minutes. Let's step outside."

Reluctantly, Clara let him guide her to the front steps of the Council House. The crisp autumn air was a sharp contrast to the warm, bustling interior. She inhaled deeply, feeling a small measure of the tension in her chest ease.

"You're carrying too much of this on your shoulders," Jack said, leaning against the railing beside her.

"How can I not?" Clara replied. "This is everything, Jack. If the gala fails..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"It won't," he said firmly.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you," Jack said, his voice steady. "You've put everything into this, and people see that. They want to help because of you, Clara. The community's behind you. You've done your part—now trust the process."

She looked at him, his calm confidence steadying her racing thoughts. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she admitted softly.

Jack smiled. "Luckily, you don't have to find out."

The two returned inside to find Jordan standing by the stage, carefully arranging the sound equipment. Clara went over to check on him.

"How's it coming along?" she asked.

Jordan adjusted a microphone, testing the sound. "Almost there. I'm still trying to figure out the best placement for the speakers, but we'll be ready in time."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, either," Clara said, her gratitude genuine.

Jordan gave her a small smile. "It's been worth it, seeing this place come together. I think it's going to be a night to remember."

Clara nodded, her resolve firming. "It has to be."

As the day wore on, the Council House began to take shape. The main hall sparkled with soft string lights overhead, and the tables were set with crisp white linens and elegant centerpieces. The auction items were displayed in their designated area, each tagged with a brief description and starting bid.

Clara stood back and surveyed the room, her chest swelling with pride and nervous anticipation.

"Looks incredible," Tanya said, coming up beside her.

"It really does," Clara agreed.

Tanya glanced at her. "You know, you've done something amazing here. No matter what happens, this is a success."

Clara swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "Thanks, Tanya. That means a lot."

As the evening approached, Clara returned home to prepare. Standing in front of her mirror, she smoothed out the creases in her dress, a deep emerald green that complemented her eyes. She fastened a pair of simple earrings and added a swipe of lipstick, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.

She thought about the faces she would see tonight—the donors, the volunteers, the community members who had supported them every step of the way. But most of all, she thought about what the Council House symbolized: hope, resilience, and the power of coming together.

This was their moment, and she was determined to make it count.

Back at the Council House, as the first guests began to arrive, Clara stood by the entrance with Jack, greeting them warmly. Her nerves lingered just beneath the surface, but she masked them with a smile.

The gala had begun, and the future of the Council House rested in the hands of the night ahead.

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811 words