She leans against the counter and looks back at me, so I have a lineup of collusive, imploring faces.
"Well, yes, actually I do. How's it going?"
"Not very well," says Jeanette mournfully.
"He's being stubborn," says Elly.
"I'm beingprincipled."
"We wouldn't do this if we had any other or better way," says Jeanette. "You know that, right?"
"Have you tried to think of another way?"
"Have you?" asks Elly.
"Yes."
"And how'd you get on?"
"Not very well."
"Exactly. We have one month.One monthbefore the rent goes up. And Bess saidWhatever it takes." Elly jabs the wooden countertop on each word. "She said it very loud and more than once, in fact. It is okay for us to do this, Ed. Especially because we have nothing else."
I peer at each of their faces. Each of them peer back. Determined. Hopeful. I cross my arms. "If you're absolutely convinced this is the best course of action, get somebody else to do it. Get Carlos to do it. He's a poet. He's good with words."
"Carlos?" says Elly, her features contracted in a parody of doubt. "Carlos would write something so cryptic Bess would think she'd been sent an invitation to join the first manned mission to Tatooine."
"Isn't that a planet from Star Wars?" I ask.
"Exactly."
Jeanette leans across the counter again. "We needyouremotion behind the words to give it the impact it needs, my love. It needs to be weighty. It needs to be moving."
"Then get AI to do it."
"We tried," says Elly on a sigh. "There's no depths to the words, no soul. It's all homogeneous syrup. It needs a human touch. Your touch."
"No." I turn and wake my computer.
Nobody says anything for several long seconds. I can hear their brains rapidly whirring as they rethink their strategy.
"Okay, so," says Mistral, her voice low but upbeat. "How about you write a letter. Just to see how it feels to express yourself to Bess. If you're still uncomfortable about it, we'll fully respect that."
I open the library management system, then the reporting tab.
"It might be empowering, actually. Putting all the feelings you've been harbouring for her for all this time down on paper. It'll be a catharsis. A release for all that pent up, unrequited love."
I set the parameters to run a circulation report for the most popular books so I can assess them for wear and tear.
"Think of it literally as creative therapy. If you want to continue with it afterwards – great. We get a shot at saving Bess' gallery. If you don't…think what the community will lose."
Standing, I retrieve the report from the printer and walk past them towards the shelves.
"I'm not doing it. Don't ask me again."
Chapter fifteen
Ed
