Alma spoke up. ‘Joyce, do you think Richard would judge?’ Joyce’s husband, Richard, was the mayor. ‘We could do a morning tea at the municipality office. Charge for admission. Or make it a part of the Spring Fair, perhaps.’

Joyce looked down at her notes, a flicker of something in her eyes. She raised her head, steeled her expression into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’m sure he would love to. I’ll ask him.’

‘Thank you, Joyce. That would be … lovely.’ The words almost stuck in Norma’s throat. She knew Richard Tippet. He was suave, jovial. Hail-fellow-well-met. Impressed all the men in town for his willingness to change out of his expensive suits, cast aside his gold watch and don farmer’s flannel to dig out a ditch to protect a property from the river flooding or help the CFA. A man of action—only the action didn’t stop at his front door and, as a consequence, his wife was known as clumsy.

Norma looked at the next item on her agenda. The youth initiative. It had been her idea, a decade ago, to begin a mentorship of sorts to draw younger women in town into the CWA. Older women passed on skills and training to younger women and it had proven very successful. Deception Bay boasted the highest youth membership in the region.

‘How are we going with the job interview practice sessions?’ she asked.

Alma cleared her throat and referred to her notes. ‘We’ve got another session next week. Seven girls attended last time. It went well. This time, we have a bring-your-CV session and we are going to share them around so the girls get a better idea of what to include.’

Norma smiled. ‘Excellent,’ she said.

Val did the minutes for their meetings. She looked over at Norma. ‘That’s about all we have on the agenda.’

‘Thanks, Val. Any other business?’ Norma looked around at the dozen women sitting at their long table. A couple moved, uncomfortable against the hard plastic chairs. It made her think that one of their fundraisers should be for new chairs, but she knew their comfort would always take second place to the greater needs in the community.

‘I’ve got something,’ said Agatha. A tall woman with steel grey hair cut plain and short. ‘The new detective in town. Antigone Pollard. Did you all hear what she did to Jack Barratt in the car park of the Commercial last night?’

‘Some sort of karate,’ said Val, smiling. ‘Serves Jack right. He’s always down at the pub with my Kevin. Too big for his boots, I say. That detective gave him what he had coming, if you ask me.’

A couple of women nodded approvingly.