“It’s an issue I am keeping a very close eye on. Especially due to the anonymous nature of these complaints.” Paloma looked around. “I see I’m not the only one.”
The foyer was indeed the most crowded she had ever seen it. She spotted several Crowharts, Prudence Fowler, and Judge Astor. Greg Gangson was talking to Headmistress Nox, of all people. Her wife stood quietly near them, a concerned expression on her face. Overall, a lot of the townspeople were present. She turned to her left and finally spotted the one person she was looking for. Except he wasn’t alone. For once, John Moss was accompanied by a man Paloma had never seen before.
“His name is Gerard, and apparently, he is his campaign manager,” Ceridwen supplied helpfully.
“Ah, the name seems apt. He reminds me of that French actor convicted of sexual harassment. Except he’s not as tall and not as…French, I guess.”
“Oh, so basically that makes him Gerard Depardon’t,” Deryn said with a completely straight face, and Paloma had to biteher lip not to laugh. Ceridwen was less successful in hiding her mirth. The eldest Crowhart sister covered her mouth with her hand and turned away from the man who was glaring at everyone around him.
“I am again questioning how Moss can afford an actual campaign manager. And this one apparently ran some Senate races in the South, so he has clout. And that implies money.”
Ceridwen spoke carefully so as not to be overheard. Paloma took another look at Not French Gerard.
“I’m of the impression that the Moss family is rich,” she said quietly.
Deryn laid a hand on her hip, listening carefully, and Paloma felt that touch at her very core, her fingers no longer cold, her skin burning up. She drew in air slowly, then let it out, hoping to distract herself from the sensation. If anything, she was even more aware of the touch. Deryn leaned closer, the scent of vanilla making Paloma lightheaded.
Ceridwen looked between the two of them for a moment too long before answering.
“Not run-a-Senate-style-campaign rich. Even you’re not running one of those.”
Paloma gave her a small smile and tugged on Deryn’s hand. It was time to move before she did something drastic.
The clock on the town hall tower chimed twelve times, and the crowd moved slowly into the assembly room, which, while large, still could not accommodate everyone.
“Do you want me to get you a seat?” Deryn held her hand just as tightly in hers as she had for the past ten minutes.
“No, I’ll stand?—”
“Smart.” Lachlan miraculously appeared at her elbow.
“How did you even get here? Weren’t you at the resort?” Deryn whispered.
“I ran.” He bent down so as not to be overheard. “I kid, I never run. I asked for a ride. Someone said the Douche Nozzle got himself some kind of campaign manager, so I had to be here. You can’t appear to be outnumbered.”
“Lachlan…” Paloma shook her head.
“Lachlan, nothing. He’s got a manager, you’ve got a manager. He’s got his bimbo wife with him, you’ve got your tomboy ginger cat of a girlfriend with you.”
“Hey!” Deryn protested.
“Are you going to deny it, Crowhart?” Lachlan tried to raise an eyebrow but failed, lifting both at the same time. It made him look startled instead of the haughtiness he was evidently shooting for. Adorable.
“I do. If anything, this is a ‘black cat, golden retriever’ sort of thing, Vesely. So, I renounce the ginger cat comparisons.”
Lachlan was about to launch into a protest when Judge Astor gaveled the meeting of the Library Board open. After the acceptance of the minutes from the previous meeting and roll call, he began with the first and only subject on the agenda.
“The Board has received fifteen challenges to the library catalog. We are hereby convened to discuss and decide on said challenges. Yes, Councilwoman Crowhart?”
Ceridwen stood, which Paloma considered to be a smart strategic move. As the Board members were seated, they weren’t visible to the entire assembly room, since it was full to the rafters by this point, with people sitting on the floor and standing along the walls.
“Your Honor, I believe this is an open attack on our library, on our children, and on our very freedoms. How many of these challenges will we allow? Something needs to be done.”
Shouts of “Hear! Hear!” Rang out from all over the assembly room.
From the front seats, a voice that Paloma recognized sounded, filled with a touch of humor. Humor so misplaced that Paloma thought surely it was just a bad strategy to even speak up.
“Councilwoman Crowhart, while I join you in the expressed sentiment, I fear that, given the sensitive nature of the challenges, it is best that they remain anonymous. Surely, we don’t want to know why someone doesn’t want some purple prose and bedroom scenes on bookshelves.”
