Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
James
I earned every word of that.
When I sent that email about the children’s annex budget proposal, I had no idea it would be taken so personally.
There’s no telling how that email ended up in Verity’s hands, but it doesn’t matter.
When I wrote it, I had just ended an awful phone call with my sister.
Thinking about it now makes me frustrated all over again.
But as harsh words come out of Tabitha’s mouth, I feel better.
Just being around her softens my sharp edges, whether she’s throwing barbs my way or messing with me about one of my rare editions.
If only she knew how she makes me feel. If only I could tell Tabitha that she’s the one face I think about at night when stress threatens to steal sleep from me.
The chances are pretty high that if I verbalized any of this, she’d walk straight to HR to complain about the weird old guy lurking around her department.
And now I’ve torpedoed any slim chance I might have had to shoot my shot with Tabitha.
After I put the book back on the reference shelf, I came back down here to tell her I enjoyed talking to the children and teaching them something about historic literature. I liked being next to her while I did that.
And then I overheard her repeating the words in my email almost word-for-word. It doesn’t matter that some of it’s being taken out of context. The effect of what I wrote hurt her. I deserve every insult she’s giving me.
“Overblown.”
Yes, I actually said that.
I’m so embarrassed.
And yet I stand here hypnotized by the way the amber glow coming from outside plays off of Tabitha’s hair.
“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” I hear her say.
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
Tabitha spins around. “How much did you hear?”
“Only the part where you asked if I was behind you,” I lie.
Her pretty face relaxes. “Oh. Good. Fine. I wasn’t talking about you anyway.”
I don’t miss the nudge from Verity, seemingly jogging Tabitha out of a momentary spiral.
“Good. Fine,” I say. Great, now I’m spiraling as I stand here like an idiot with nothing to say.
The two women stare at me expectantly.
“Did you need something?” Tabitha asks.
“Yes, actually. I wanted to say…I wanted to say that…”
This is not me. I might be mildly introverted, but I’ve never had trouble expressing myself. But one second standing face to face with this luminous creature and I am tongue-tied.
I adjust my tie, trying to think of something innocuous to say. Something complimentary. Something genuine.
Verity checks her phone and gently nudges Tabitha again. “We’re going to miss all the pumpkin ale!” Verity loudly whispers. That was pointed.
As I open my mouth to speak, the branch director, Ken, walks up and blows up everything. “Oh, good, I need to talk to both of you.”
Seeing that this is a work-related ambush, Verity makes her escape. “I’ll meet you at the beer tent,” she says, squeezing Tabitha’s arm.
Tabitha looks helpless and calls after her friend. “Hate you!”
“You love me!”
The two of us turn to the harried-looking director.
“What is it, Ken?” I ask, unable to hide my irritation.
“I need two volunteers to work the library’s booth at the fall festival tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s my day off,” Tabitha says.
“And mine,” I say in solidarity.
“And that’s why I’m asking you to do it as a special favor to me. We were supposed to have volunteers but there’s been some drama on the board. I can’t get into right now, but please? You’ll earn time and a half.”
“Don’t think you can bribe me with…” I start.
But Tabitha chimes in, “Time and a half? I’ll do it! As long as you realize I will be hungover.”
Ken waves his hands in the air. “I don’t care. I just need two warm bodies in that tent. I’ll count on you, Tabitha. I might be able to ask Joan from genealogy. She never volunteers for anything…”
What am I, a fool? Am I really about to pass up on the opportunity to spend the entire day with Tabitha?
“I’ll be there, Ken.”
The branch director seems genuinely surprised. “Well, that was quite the 180, but I’ll take it. Thanks, buddy.”
Ken shakes my hand. As I look past him, I notice the skeptical look on Tabitha’s face.
She really hates my guts.
I may have just signed myself up for a long day of getting roasted. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll manage to keep my foot out of my mouth long enough to convince her I’m not a terrible person. It would be a start.
“This is great news. I was worried we’d have to forfeit our booth fee.” Ken turns to leave with vague instructions as he bolts for an open elevator. “I gotta run, but you’ll have everything set up for you when you arrive. The fair opens at 10 a.m. and break-down is 7 p.m.”
“Eight hours? You never said it was eight hours!” I call after him, suddenly panicking. What will we talk about for eight hours?
Surely, eight hours is long enough for someone as shrewd as Tabitha to get to know me too well. We’ll come full circle and she’ll end up hating me on an even deeper level.
“Appreciate you!” Ken calls out while frantically hitting the “close” button.
Turning back to Tabitha, I’m startled to find her standing so close to me.
“I’m sorry, I …”
She smiles. “Don’t stress about it, James. I look forward to getting to know my fellow employee really, really well.”
On the first “really,” Tabitha wraps her hands around both my shoulders, looking me dead in the eye.
Her expression is all mischief. Her smile is deadly.
I know I’m in for it, but it’s all I can do to not inhale her fruity scent, tilt her chin up, and close the distance between us.
She lets go of me, and I could easily follow her out. Instead, I watch her waltz out of the lobby, feeling empty.
Outside, she goes to meet Verity at the beer tent for pumpkin ale, I suppose, leaving me with my shoulders, heart, and soul burning.
It’s 10:20 a.m., and the fair’s early birds are flooding the blocked-off streets. There’s no sign of Tabitha among them.
The crisp autumn morning is pleasant enough, so I try to enjoy it as I finish setting up the tent.
We have two tables of used books and DVDs for sale, plus a dedicated table for folks to play brainteasers and crossword puzzles.
Another table has brochures with information on how to borrow audiobooks, free museum passes, voter registration forms, and, of course, a form to sign up for a library card.
Whoever set up the table did a poor job of keeping everything in order, so I set about lining everything up symmetrically.
With still no sign of Tabitha, I then begin organizing the used books in order using the Library of Congress system, obviously.
And the stickers? Good lord. Why? Why so many stickers? Banned book stickers, Pride stickers, fantasy stickers, romance-book-themed stickers. What do people do with all of them? I do my best to keep like with like, forming tidy stacks of each one and separating them by genre.
As more people show up, the books get jostled and moved out of order, so that keeps me busy.
Where is Tabitha?
I think back to yesterday and decide she must have been serious about the hangover.
I’ve never met anyone like her. If she’d been anyone else, I would have wrestled that first edition Grimm from her hands.
But the moment she flounced into my reference room, I knew it was over.
Her flirty skirt showed off a pair of pretty knees.
Who notices knees? Apparently, I do. Tabitha had flitted her wavy, brown locks out of her eyes flirtatiously as she strutted by in impractical shoes.
Her hips swayed while the skirt accentuated her curvy, strong legs.
Tabitha’s color-coordinating graphic tee had some ridiculous print with pumpkins and cats or something else that should be classified as tacky and insipid, but on her, it was sweet and delightful.
Every day she wears a different graphic tee, from some fandom or another.
I’ve been keeping a mental tally of the ones I actually recognize.
Star Wars, Bluey (thanks to my nephew for that one), and Schitt’s Creek, I recognize.
The rest? I’m at a loss. Yesterday, the shirt simply said “Love.” Must keep it professional for one’s presentation, I suppose.
Over it, she wore a thick cardigan that someone had evidently lovingly knit for her by hand.
Clearly, we’re not a match. Clearly, I must be losing my mind to think we could hit it off somehow. I detest lateness. I should have seen this coming. Maybe this is her revenge — to stand me up for writing that shitty email.
She’s even more clever than I thought. Tabitha has me right where she wants me. I felt so bad about what I’d written in the email—and even worse that she’d read it—that I was compelled to agree to volunteering today.
I have to do this because of what I did to her.
When Tabitha appears at 10:45, she carries a bag and two coffees, and wears a pair of oversized dark sunglasses on her concerningly pale face. Oh, she’s definitely hungover. But that’s no excuse.
I bluster, “Tabitha! Where have you been? There are…people milling around touching the books.”
She winces, and I realize I was a bit loud.
“That’s kind of the point, James. You have to learn how to people,” she says, handing me a beverage.
“I don’t do people and I don’t drink coffee.”
She takes my flatness as humor and smiles. “You did great with the kids yesterday,” she says. “And I know. That’s why I brought you tea.”
I’m struck dumb by this unexpected act of kindness. I open the lid, and the Earl Grey aroma fills my nostrils. “How did you…?”
“I have my ways. With three sugars and one cream?”
“Yes,” I say, bewildered.
Something sets me on edge as I watch her slouch into a chair and gulp her coffee. It’s the sunglasses. I can’t see her eyes.
Tabitha digs into the paper bag and pulls out a foil-wrapped cylinder, then hands me something wrapped in bakery paper.
“A lemon poppy seed scone?”
“You’re welcome.”