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“It’s all good. I’m planning to get some more Pride decorations up. I’m also starting the display for the authors coming in for Friday’s event, and you know I love to put up a display.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” She had a knack for making any topic into a fantastic visual arrangement. “What’s all this?” I pointed to the stack of paper and envelopes on the desk.

Clara’s eyes lit up. “I had to empty the box where we were collecting the community letters in support of the Freedom to Read award nomination. It’s only been a few days, but the response has been huge. Far more people are bringing in letters rather than sending emails.”

It was incredible that the community had so much to say about this place and the banned books program. “Seriously? That’s incredible. I can’t thank you enough for handling all of this.”

She waved off my thanks. “It’s been my pleasure. I’m eager to find out how it all turns out. There’s one thing for you…” She hesitated, her hand hovering over a folded paper that sat by itself. “I know you said you didn’t want to see any of these, but… This wasn’t in an envelope and I’ve been flattening out and straightening the papers so I can package them.” She looked at the paper and back at me. “Of course I saw what some of them said… Anyway, I made a copy of this one and you should take a look.”

My heart skipped a beat or two as she held out the paper. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Clara said as she caught my concern. “It’s good, I promise. I just think you’ll want to read it.”

Relieved but curious, I took the paper and gathered up my things. “Thanks. I’ll give it a read. I’m going to go get some emails done and prep for my meeting with Bo in community development to make sure everything’s a go from the city's point of view. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

She nodded and turned to check out someone who’d come up with a couple of books.

As I headed toward my office, I nearly bumped into Mrs. Landry, one of our regulars. Her face lit up when she saw me.

“Andre. I hoped to run into you.” Her eyes were bright behind her glasses. “I finished that book you recommended last week—the mystery set in 1950s San Francisco. I didn’t figure out who the killer was until just before the detective did. It was so good. I’ve already picked up the next in that series.” She held up the book to show me.

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I smiled. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. You’ll like that sequel too.”

“Do you have any other recommendations? After this, I’d like to mix things up with a biography or two maybe.”

My mind raced through the possibilities and what I knew Mrs. Landry liked. “There’s a biography about the artist Keith Haring. It dives into his creativity and the huge number of works he made but also life in the 1970s and ’80s in New York and his activism for queer rights. I couldn’t put it down.”

“That sounds good. I like his art. My son has a couple prints of his hanging in his living room.”

“Another I’d recommend is the memoir by Harvey Fierstein. It’s a look at his upbringing, how he got started in theater and became a playwright, and it’s got so much about the plays and musicals he’s written.”

“Wonderful. I love La Cage.” She jotted down the titles in her small notebook. “I’ll be getting them both. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I look forward to hearing what you think of them.”

She smiled and headed off to find the books.

This was why I loved this job. I never got tired of connecting people with stories that could open up new worlds for them, challenge their perspectives, or simply bring joy.

When I got to my office, I closed the door and sank into my chair. Once I got my tablet from my pack and got the folders of festival stuff as organized as possible on my desk, I took a sip of tea and unfolded the document Clara had given me.

My heart nearly stopped when I spotted the signature at the bottom: Ethan Gallagher.

Ethan had written a letter for the award nomination? Curiosity and surprise swirled around my brain at the thought that he’d taken the time, with everything else he had going on, to do this.

I started to read.

To the Freedom to Read Award Committee, I’m writing to express my full support for the Maplewood Library and Andre Thompson’s nomination for the Freedom to Read Award. As someone who grew up in Maplewood and experienced firsthand the impact of our local library, I can’t think of an organization, or librarian, more deserving of this honor.

A wave of emotions washed over me, moved by his sincerity.

The Maplewood Library has always been a cornerstone of our community. When I was a kid, struggling with reading and feeling like I’d never get it, the library was a safe place for me to put into practice what I learned at school and from my parents. As an adult, I’ve watched the library continue to reflect the inclusivity that Maplewood stands for. The shelves don’t just hold books—they hold stories meaningful for every person. No matter who they are or where they come from, anyone can walk into the Maplewood Library (or browse the digital collection) and find books that speak to them. That kind of inclusivity is rare these days, especially in smaller towns like ours.

My vision blurred as tears formed. This was what I’d always hoped the library would achieve. That Ethan not only noticed but appreciated it enough to write this meant more to me than I could put into words. The impact of his letter deepened the connection I’d started to experience with Ethan, making me want to know him much better than I did.

In the past few years, Andre Thompson has taken that mission even further. His work to bring banned books to the forefront of our library’s collection has been nothing short of extraordinary. In a time when too many communities are restricting access to books that explore diverse experiences and identities, Andre has ensured that the Maplewood Library is a place where no story is silenced.

I grabbed a tissue from the box on my desk. Ethan’s words were beautiful, and I couldn’t believe he wrote them about the library’s work. This letter confirmed what I’d realized in the past few days working with him. His caring nature, compassion, and dedication to causes was crystal clear, and I had been blind to it.