“Oh. You can use my Austin library card to set me up in Robin Creek?”
“Sure can. And your previous checkout history will follow you, so you’ll get book recommendations and notifications based on the authors and types of books you already love. How does that sound?”
So much for fresh starts and small-town brick-and-mortar charm. “Sounds good.”
Within minutes, I had a warm, freshly laminated B. H. Sanderford library card in hand.
“Thank you, Eileen. I’ve got my grandson coming to town soon. I want to make sure he’s got books to keep him occupied.”
“Oh!” she chirped. “How old is he?”
“Ten.”
She smiled broadly. “We’ve got plenty for his age. Between us and the school and the YMCA, we’ll have him begging to go to bed every night.”
I laughed. “Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
“Here.” She handed me a bright-green flyer with three columns listing the library’s dates, times, and summer events planned for children. At a glance, it looked like a college semester term schedule, it was so full.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and, Joyce…” She leaned in close to the barrier.
I mimicked her movement, wondering what might warrant a hushed conversation.
“There’s a group of ladies who meet once weekly to talk about books and whatnot.”
“A book club?” I asked.
“Not quite. Just some of us…seasonedwomen in the community who like to get together. We do recommend books, but we’renot reading one together, per se. Just thought I’d let you know. It’s not advertised.”
Were the wordslonely divorcéeemblazoned on my forehead?
“With my grandson coming in a few weeks, I’m sure I’ll have my hands full.”
She waved. “I’m sure you will. But feel free to join us in the future. If you’d like.” She winked at me as though we belonged to a secret club for small-town women of a certain age and stage in life.
I thanked her for the standing invitation and tucked the children’s information into my bag, pondering her insinuation in my heart.Maybe I am lonely.And maybe I’d need some friends in Robin Creek. Gabriella was younger than my children; I couldn’t count on her for companionship. Of course, I could find friends at church. But, like Miss Mary, they would all reference me as someone kin to Jewel, which came with a set of holy expectations that I had no intention of living up to, which would, in turn, tarnish her reputation. Also something I didn’t want to do. Not that I was intent on living like a questionable woman. It was just…the last thing I wanted. The worst thing possible would be to leave one set of imposed expectations for another. I had my own standards somewhere inside me, and I wanted to find them and live by them for a while.
Somehow, the temperature had climbed by at least five degrees while I was in the library, forcing me to abbreviate my downtown stroll. Two sides of the square instead of four, unless I found another parking spot. I flipped open the hat I’d packed and flattened it against the top of my head. A halo of shade surrounded me just as a breeze picked up the bottom of my skirt.
“Ooh!” escaped my throat as my arms flew to prevent a viral video.
“Hold up! Uh, excuse me!” a male voice called from behind me. I ignored him because… Well, who would be calling for me in the middle of downtown Robin Creek?
“Hello!”
Still gathering the hem of my too-short skirt in my fist, I double-timed it to my car.
That’s when I heard “La-ja!”
I froze in place as the voice registered, that unmistakable smushing together of my nickname, Li’l Joy, into his own version:La-ja. It always reminded me of the pulsing sound in a horror movie as the killer searches through darkened rooms for his next victim.La-ja, la-ja, la-ja.
Then came the footsteps—his footsteps—fast and sure. “I thought that was you! You always had those athletic legs!”
Of coursehewould know. He’d spent so much time trying to touch them decades ago.
I dropped the skirt and turned to face him, because if I didn’t, he’d probably wrap me up in a bear hug the way he used to do. I liked it, but not too much. Didn’t want to get a reputation, you know.
