Page 139 of Honeyfires

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "You took notes."

"I always take notes." She tucked herself against my side. "The piece is out now. We can't take it back, and I wouldn't if we could. So the question is what we do from here."

"From here," I said, "I think we wait for Tuesday."

"We wait for Tuesday," she agreed.

We sat together in the quiet apartment, her hand in mine, the world outside continuing to have its various loud opinions. My phone was still buzzing. Hers probably was, too. Neither of us looked.

"For what it's worth," she said, after a while, "Diana said she thought it was well-written. For a librarian."

"Did she actually say for a librarian?"

"No. I added that. She just said well-written."

"That might be the highest praise she's capable of."

"That's what I thought." She smiled, small and real. "Get some sleep, Petra. Tuesday is coming."

The next three days were… loud.

Vera's article spread faster than I expected, which Diana had apparently also anticipated. She sent Vera a text that simply read good numbers and which Vera showed me with a satisfaction she didn't bother concealing. The local fire union shared it with a statement of support. Firefighter families reached out. Stevens called to say it was the best thing anyone had written about the incident, which made Vera cry in the kitchen while she was making tea.

But the negative responses came too. The homeowners' advocacy group issued a formal statement calling the piece tone-deaf. Conservative commentators picked it up as ammunition in broader arguments about authority and protocol. And Vera's social media, already difficult since the viral parking lot clip, became genuinely unmanageable.

I watched it happen and tried not to let the guilt eat me alive. Diana had approved it. Vera had been strategic. The piece had done what Diana hoped it would do. None of that made it easier to watch strangers tear into the woman I loved.

Friday afternoon, I went to pick Vera up from work.

I'd been doing it every day since the reporters first ambushed her. I parked where I could see the entrance and waited.

She emerged at five, and something was off. Shoulders tight, movements stiff. Behind her, through the glass doors, I could see Sarah, her coworker who'd been cold since the book club event, turning away. Helen came out next, spotted my truck, and touched Vera's arm briefly before heading to her own car. Becca appeared in the doorway and gave an exaggerated thumbs up in my direction before disappearing back inside.

Vera climbed into the truck, looking exhausted. "Hi."

"Hi." I took her hand. "How bad?"

"Sarah's not speaking to me." She leaned her head back. "And Henry pulled me aside. Suggested I consider a leave of absence until things calm down."

Fury moved through me fast and hot. "For writing an article?"

"For the controversy surrounding the article. For bringing negative attention to the library." She opened her eyes, turned to look at me. "The board received complaints from patrons who are uncomfortable with my association with what they called criminal activity."

"Diana approved that piece," I said. "It named no one. It—"

"I know. But the internet connected the dots, and the board doesn't care about legal semantics." She squeezed my hand. "I told Henry no. I'm not taking leave for exercising my First Amendment rights on my own time. And if the board wants to fire me for it, they're welcome to deal with the wrongful termination lawsuit."

Pride and fear passed through me simultaneously. "What did he say?"

"He backed down. But he wasn't happy." She looked out the window. "Sarah thinks I've compromised the library's neutrality. Helen told her to mind her business. James and Marcus sent me a muffin basket, which I think was meant to be supportive, but mostly just made Becca eat four muffins."

Despite everything, I almost laughed. "Diana said this might happen."

"Diana also said the piece did exactly what she wanted it to do." Vera glanced at me. "She called this morning. The district administrator's office has received several letters from firefighter families and fire behavior experts in support of your position. She thinks it shifted something. Not enough to guarantee anything, but something."

I absorbed that. Something.

"Tuesday," I said.