Meeting the organizer, Sarah, at her office was an exercise in restraint. Her space was meticulously organized, and she greeted me with a practiced smile. “I assume you’re here about the auction,” she said, gesturing for me to sit.
I nodded, my fingers tracing the edge of the chair. “Why was I included in the auction list without being asked?” I inquired, trying to keep my voice steady.
Sarah paused, her gaze briefly flicking to the framed certificates on her wall. “Your husband approached us with the idea. It seemed like a fun twist, something to lighten the mood.”
“Did you think it was appropriate?” I pressed, my frustration bubbling over.
She shifted uncomfortably. “In hindsight, perhaps not. We trusted his judgment, given his past contributions. I assumed you were in on it.”
Her words lingered in the air as I left, the weight of them settling like a stone in my chest. I wondered how many more pieces of this puzzle remained hidden.
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