Refusing to give in to exasperation, she decided to find out if Grandma wanted dinner yet. But when she went into the living room, Grandma wasn’t there. A quick check found that she’d retreated to her bedroom, and was now under the covers, snoring.
Chilmark Town Hall was, as Grandma described it, “within spittin’ distance of the community center, the school, the library, the cop station, the fire guys, and the new ambulance building—all right there at Beetlebung Corner where State, Menemsha, Middle, and South roads collide.”
Brandon’s truck was already in the lot when Maddie arrived. Glancing in the mirror, she checked her lipstick, smoothed the skirt of her tailored navy suit, and hoped they didn’t hold her attire against her.
“You look like a schoolmarm,” Grandma had said, unsuccessfully stifling a laugh.
“I want to look professional.”
“Why? You already have the go-ahead. All they want’s your signature. And your check.”
In the academic world, appearances mattered, which wasn’t fair because not every woman could afford—or wanted—to shop at high-end clothing stores. Still, sometimes—like now—Maddie felt she made a better impression if she wore what she thought were respectful clothes.
By the time Grandma made the comment, it had been too late for Maddie to change.
With her laptop full of lists, a file folder in hand, and the check with the last of her readily available funds that had been earmarked for her retirement, she whispered to her mother to please be by her side. Then she made her way into the building.
She was directed to a small conference room that featured a table too big for the space. Brandon was there, standing, squeezed between the table and a window, looking out. He turned and greeted her.
“Hey, Maddie. They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Maddie didn’t ask who “they” were because she supposed that, as Grandma implied about her outfit, it wouldn’t matter.
She nodded, and edged around the table so she and Brandon would be sitting on the same side, an act reminiscent of acollege meeting, where the faculty tended to land on one side, administrators on the other.
They waited.
At twenty-five minutes after eleven, a man with shaggy hair entered the room. He wore baggy jeans and a flannel shirt buttoned up to his neck; his added bowtie gave him a few points. Maddie hadn’t met him when they’d presented the proposal and the blueprints.
“Sid Akins,” he said, extending a hand first to Maddie. “You must be Madelyn. Nice to meet you.”
She said it was nice to meet him, too, because that’s what one did. Then she asked him to please call her Maddie.
Clearly Brandon already knew him; they shook hands and said, “Hey, Sid” and “Hey, man, how are you?” as if they were frat brothers, though Sid looked like he had twenty years on Brandon’s forty.
“I’m all you get today,” Sid said as he sat across from them (of course) and set a folder on the table. “Bob and Sheila are wrestling with some problematic road variance papers.” He snickered a friendly snicker, as if pleased that he’d wound up with them and not the problematic road variance.
Nonetheless, Maddie’s palms began to perspire when Sid removed a thick stack of papers from his folder; her stomach coiled into what might rival an official U.S. Coast Guard knot.
Several minutes passed in a blur, as Brandon skimmed one of Sid’s sheets after another, sliding each over to her for her perusal, not that she was capable of digesting the legal mumbo-jumbo. She was glad she trusted Brandon.
The next thing she knew, Maddie had signed in one, two, three places and handed over her check that the Green Hills College Credit Union had required three days to cut but waived the waiting period because it was for Maddie, daughter of Professor Stephen Clarke, professor in her own right. Perhaps they also knew how she’d be dressed that day.
Given the size of the commitment and the major life-changer it was for her, the fact that the entire procedure took less than thirty-five minutes (after Sid joined them) made it seem anticlimactic.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Brandon asked once Maddie had said, “Thank you,” and “It was nice to meet you,” and Sid had said, “Good luck with the bookshop. I’m sure it will be a winner,” and they’d said good-bye, and she and Brandon left the building.
They stood on the dirt lot outside.
“Well, it didn’t take long,” she said.
“They did their work behind the scenes. It might be a small town, but they know what they’re doing.” He smiled. “How about if I treat you to lunch to celebrate?”
Maddie hadn’t eaten; it was already noon, and the knot inside her had begun to loosen. “Sure. Where?”
Brandon looked around as if expecting to see a restaurant. Then he said, “Not much open up here at this time of year. How about the Black Dog Café in Vineyard Haven?”
It was where she’d gone with Grandma the day before, so at least she knew the way. “Sounds great,” she said, and they got into their respective vehicles and started their ignitions.
