He clears his throat. “Good.”
There’s that word again. Though I’m glad I’m not the one saying it this time. I’m also glad it seems that Julien has been as similarly affected as I’ve been.
“Now, what were we saying before we were so rudely interrupted?”
I smile up at him. “I think you were just about to ask me out on a date.”
26
I wish I could say the flight home was less scary than the one to Florida had been, but that would be a lie. We hit turbulence somewhere over Georgia, and I think I squeezed poor Julien’s fingers so tightly that the tips turned white from lack of blood flow. He didn’t complain, ever the gentleman, but he did mention that maybe the next time we took a trip, we should consider driving.
Next time.
I used to thinkThe Endwere the best two words to be strung together in the English language, but I know now thatNext Timeis even sweeter.
Of course, before there can be a next time, there has to be a first time. In regard to a first date, that is. We agreed it would be best to wait to start anything official until we weren’t sleeping under the same roof and until Julien could report our relationship status to human resources. We are both now back in our separate residences in Tennessee, and he has a meeting with HR this morning. He called me earlier and asked if I would have dinner with him tonight. He’s supposed to pick me up at six o’clock.
Until then, I have things to do. Namely, getting my job back.
I pull into the parking lot of the main regional library forour county. The building is quintessential Southern in style. Redbrick with stately white columns supporting a portico. Black shutters beside every window. Perfectly manicured landscaping inviting you to the entrance. There’s a sugar maple in the front that is rivaling the brick in color, and if the cooler temperatures didn’t remind me I’m no longer in the tropics, then the poster child for the autumn season would have.
I grab my purse and exit my car, pulling my cardigan more tightly around myself to ward off the slight chill in the air. When I get to the front door, there’s a woman with a baby on her hip and a preschooler beside her who are making their way out. I hold open the door for them, and we exchange smiles before I make my way inside. The smell of books greets me like a warm hug, and I can’t help myself from taking in a deep breath.
The children’s section is right off the main entrance, and of course my gaze sweeps over the space. They have it decorated in a woodland theme, with a giant fake tree as a centerpiece against the back wall and leaves hanging from the ceiling. There are red-and-white toadstools for kids to sit on and even a small two-man pop-up tent as a cute reading nook. Little stuffed animals are placed on bookshelves and in crannies for kids to read to. One little boy has a stuffed raccoon tucked under his arm as he reads aDanny and the Dinosaurlevel reader in the corner.
As much as the scene calls to me to explore, I turn away from the children’s section and walk in the opposite direction to the circulation desk. There are a bank of offices set in a small hallway behind the desk where the administrators work. I should’ve called ahead and made an appointment, but I’m hoping Ryan will be available to see me.
“Can I help you?” The librarian greets me with a smile.
“Is Ryan Bailey in?”
“Let me go see if he’s available.” She disappears into the back.
I look around as I wait, noticing the shelf of new releases at the front and wondering if they have the new Toni Shiloh book in yet. Children’s books take up most of my reading time, but I like to slip adult books into the mix for pleasure reading as well.
“Martha? It’s good to see you.”
I turn back around and spot Ryan. He’s looking at me with guarded optimism. I probably should’ve kept him in the loop more regarding the fundraising, but in my defense, I’ve been a little busy.
“Why don’t you come to my office and we can talk.” He motions me around the front desk, and I follow him down the hall, where he stops and ushers me into another room. “Have a seat.”
This room is the size of an actual office, not the poor excuse of what he has to deal with in Little Creek when he works from our location. Which means there’s plenty of room for me to pull out the chair and sit without having to suck in my belly or fear I’m going to get stuck. There’s the added bonus of not having any fabric udders in the way this time too.
“It’s good to see you. How have you been?” he asks cordially.
“Good,” I answer. “Better after I give you this.” I open my purse and extract the check that Julien gave me, passing it over to Ryan. I know when he sees the number because his brows shoot to his hairline.
“You did it,” he says, his voice breathy in disbelief. “You were able to find a donor. Wait. Martha, this check is written out to you personally, not the library.”
I wave away his concern. “I’m going to sign it over.”
His gaze lifts to meet mine. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?” This had been the plan. Raise the money to save the library youth programs. To save my job. Why would I change my mind about that now?
He sighs. “This is a lot of money.”
“I know. It’s the exact amount you said we needed.”
