“Okay. Fifty. And good luck with the triathlon,” said Lucy, clicking off the phone. At this rate, she’d be broke before she got any donations for the bake sale. She decided to call Franny Small next. She wouldn’t be asking for money, she had plenty of her own since she founded a madly successful jewelry business. Originally made from bits and pieces of hardware, the line had evolved into a perennial favorite with fashion editors and department store buyers.

“Franny? Hi! It’s Lucy Stone.”

“Lucy! I was thinking about you just the other day, wondering what you’re up to these days.”

“Not much, just the same old work for the newspaper.”

“And the kids?”

“Everybody’s great. Listen, Franny, I’m calling because the Hat and Mitten Fund is having a bake sale next Saturday and I was hoping you could make some of those fabulous Congo bars you used to make.”

“I’d love to,” she answered, and Lucy’s hopes rose, only to be dashed when she added, “but I’m leaving for China in the morning.”

“China?”

“Right. That’s where I get a lot of my jewelry made.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a nuisance in a way, because it’s so far away and I have to go over at least four times a year.”

Lucy was astonished; the only foreign country she’d ever visited was Canada. “Four times a year? How many times have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve lost count. Too many. These days it seems I’m always flying somewhere. Milan for ribbons, Paris to see the couture shows, Africa for beads. I really couldn’t manage except now I travel first class and it does make a difference.”

Enough, already, thought Lucy. This was getting annoying. “In that case, do you think you could make a cash donation?”

“Sure. I’ll tell my assistant to take care of it first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks,” said Lucy. “And have a nice trip.”

She’d struck out twice, but she still wasn’t out. Lucy had high hopes from the next name on the list, Cathy Crowley. She was a devoted homebody who made sure her husband, Police Chief Oswald Crowley, came home to a hot supper after a hard day spent maintaining the peace in Tinker’s Cove.

“Rocky Road Fudge? I haven’t made that in years. In fact, I’d be surprised if I still had the recipe.”

“The recipe’s probably on the Internet,” suggested Lucy.

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Everything else is,” chuckled Cathy. “But I don’t have time. I’m busy getting the RV ready. Ozzie’s retiring, you know. The banquet is Saturday night and we’re leaving Sunday morning for a cross-country trip to the Grand Canyon.”

Come to think of it, Lucy did remember Ted saying something about the banquet. “Be sure to give him my congratulations,” she said. “And have a great trip.”