“I don’t want her on the board.”
Yuri shook his head, one hand resting casually on the back of a chair. “You don’t get to choose who your fellow board members are, Henrietta.”
“The only reason she’s here is because her father bought her position with that ridiculously large donation.”
“And the same can’t be said for you and your husband?” Yuri nodded at Mrs. Pembroke. “Aren’t you here because of his donation?”
The woman stiffened further. “It wasn’t as large as the Caldwells.”
A rich chuckle filled the room. “No one else’s ever is. That family has almost as much money as God. But Rosalind has good ideas. She was the one who suggested putting the library by the water and opening up a temporary location so we can start ordering books.”
“She wants to name the library after herself.”
“No. Her father wants the library named after him. Rosalind will get married at some point, then change her name and move away, and nothing about the library will ever be attributed to her. Everyone who hears the name will think of her father or her uncle, maybe both.”
The woman gave an indignant huff. “I meant it when I said I don’t want it called Caldwell Memorial Library, or Caldwell Community Library, or Caldwell anything.”
“Then come up with three good names for next week, and we’ll put all the suggestions to a vote.”
“Her ideas shouldn’t even be included. They’ll be exactly what I just listed—Caldwell, Caldwell, Caldwell.”
“She deserves a voice as much as you or me or anyone else.” There was something hard beneath Yuri’s tone, but he kept a pleasant look on his face. “Now be careful on the walk home. It’s raining rivers out there.”
“My husband sent me with the carriage, but thank you.” Mrs. Pembroke turned and strode toward the door, her steps crisp and her back ramrod straight.
Rosalind scampered a few feet down the hall, then ducked into a recessed doorway, pressed herself against the wall, and shut her eyes. Not that closing her eyelids could make her invisible, but it helped calm her breathing and cool the sweat dampening her palms.
Sure enough, the click of the older woman’s boots headed down the hall in the opposite direction.
A creak sounded too.
That was odd. Old buildings had many noises, but the creak had seemed close. Perhaps?—
“Rosalind?”
Her eyes flew open.
Yuri Amos stood a few feet away, wheeling the large chalkboard from their meeting room.
She unpeeled herself from the wall, then smoothed her skirt. Not that making sure her skirt was presentable would hide the fact that she’d been pressed flat against the wood paneling, but it at least gave her hands something to do. “I-I’m sorry. I was just... I forgot my umbrella beneath my chair.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I saw that. But this isn’t the room where we met.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gloves. “You were talking to Mrs. Pembroke when I returned, and I... that is... it didn’t seem like a conversation that should be interrupted.”
Yuri leaned one arm against the chalkboard. “So you decided to hide?”
Something about his words made her shoulders tighten, but his tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, he seemed bewildered.
Then the half smile dropped from his face. “How much of the conversation did you overhear?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“I didn’t hear enough to be of consequence.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have hidden so that Henrietta wouldn’t see you when she left.” Yuri lowered his voice until it took on that soft, gentle tone he always seemed to use with her. “I want you on the library committee, Rosalind.”
