Chapter 5 #2
“My one critique would be to maybe add a few sentences describing the setting. I had a little bit of a hard time picturing the time and place of what was happening. But your character development?” Martha lifted both hands into fists with thumbs popped high into the air. “Two thumbs up, girl.”
They continued to go around the circle, sharing their writing and giving feedback.
Every time someone had something to say about a story, they offered their comments in a compliment sandwich, softening their constructive criticism between two layers of praise.
It was obvious that Martha had taught them this technique and also that their creativity was thriving because of her mentorship.
“Looks like that’s all the time we have today.
I’m not sure when we’ll be able to meet again, but you all have my email and phone number.
Keep writing. Send me your stories because I don’t think I’ll be able to survive if I don’t find out what happens next.
” A wobbly smile curved Martha’s trembling lips.
The atmosphere in the room went from buzzing to depressed in a matter of seconds. All the kids looked at Martha with shattered expressions.
“Aw, come on, guys. We’ll still have our happily-ever-after. We just have to get through the conflict first. Pages turn, and new chapters begin.”
“But I like this chapter,” Sam grumbled.
“Me too. But remember, stories are often circular. We’ll get back here again.”
“Promise?” one of the other girls asked.
“I promise to try my hardest.” Martha stood, and all the kids followed.
Sam was the closest and closed the distance, wrapping her skinny arms around Martha’s waist and gripping her shirt at the sides when her hands wouldn’t reach all the way around.
Sam’s beanpole body sank into the welcoming softness of Martha’s and stayed there as she soaked up the love and acceptance of an adult in her life she was afraid of losing.
“Libraries are more than just a place to get free books,” Ms. Kelly said quietly.
Julien had forgotten the woman was even there and startled at the intrusion of her voice.
“And Martha is more than just a librarian.” With those parting words, she walked away.
Julien turned back and noticed everyone gathering their belongings. He opened the door wider for the young authors. They gave him curious glances as they walked past but otherwise didn’t pay him much attention. Martha, however, stared at him in surprise.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “I tried to have my assistant call you today only to realize I didn’t have your phone number.”
“Oh!” She flushed. “Sorry about that. I’ve had so much on my mind lately that I didn’t even think about contact information.” She grabbed her journal and walked past him, shutting the door behind her. “And I’m sorry that you had to drive all the way out here.”
“No trouble at all.”
He followed her to the children’s section, where she set her journal down on a small desk. She reached for a memo pad and a pencil, then printed her phone number and email address.
“Here you go.”
Julien folded the small square of paper and slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you.” He rocked back on his heels. “I’m also here as a sort of errand boy.”
“Oh? Don’t you have underlings for that sort of thing?” she teased.
“In this case, I am the underling. I’m under strict orders to deliver an invitation from my mother for you to join us for a meal at their house.”
The muscle in her jaw unhinged. “Your mother—” She pointed at Julien’s chest. “Wants me—” She pointed at her own chest. “To come to dinner?”
“That’s correct.”
“Why?”
What an appropriate and astute question.
Julien couldn’t recall a time when their two families had ever enjoyed a meal together in his family home.
In recent years, his parents and hers had broadened their relationship past employer/employee and become friendly, their dads meeting at the golf course on occasion and their moms enjoying a salon day now and again, but he’d never seen the two families gathered together for a dinner party.
Martha definitely had never been invited before.
In her eyes, their dynamic was much the same as it was when she’d been a child living in what essentially was the servants’ quarters.
But what could he say? That his domineering father’s blood pressure would only continue to skyrocket to crisis levels if they didn’t put his mind at ease, even though he’d promised to let Julien have control over Squire during this trial period?
“Mr. King didn’t like your decision to hire me, did he?” Martha’s voice was bland, hiding whatever feelings she had about such a conclusion. “But Mrs. King wants me to come and placate him.”
Julien didn’t know what to say. How had she hit the nail on the head so quickly?
Martha sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Julien, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.
Mr. King and I . . . well, never mind that.
The point is, I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will change his mind if it’s already made up.
Besides, it would be weird, wouldn’t it? Me eating at your parents’ house?”
Julien pulled his hands out of his pockets and began fiddling with the leather bracelets on his wrist. He respected Martha’s decision, but he didn’t relish the idea of facing either of his parents with her refusal.
“Would you feel more comfortable if it wasn’t at the house?
We could go to a restaurant. Think of it as a work dinner. ”
She seemed to consider that but ultimately shook her head again. “I don’t mean to be difficult, but wasn’t this supposed to be your chance to show him you’re capable of running things without his fingerprint anywhere near the project?”
She asked the question kindly, reminding Julien of how she’d posed things in the writers’ circle. A carefully crafted question designed to make the receiver consider a bigger picture and come to their own conclusion of the outcome.
“You’re right. I should’ve reminded Dad of that instead of allowing him to bluster his way into control again.”
“Your dad is a force to be reckoned with.”
Julien paused, studying her. This wasn’t the first time she’d said something that made him think there had been more interaction between her and his father than her parents’ employment afforded. What had happened? What was the story there?
Knowing they both needed to get back to work, Julien rapped two knuckles on her desk. “I won’t keep you any longer. My assistant, Tomiko, will be in touch to get travel arrangements made for our trip.”
“Wait, before you go, I had a couple of questions.”
“About the conference?”
“More specifically about what kinds of books you’re interested in acquiring at the conference.”
Julien looked around at the shelves surrounding them. “You’re the expert.”
Her sigh sounded a little exasperated. “Yes, but are you looking for something specific? Are you wanting the book to win an award like the Caldecott Medal or the John Newbery Medal? Are you more interested in an author/illustrator combo like Mo Willems? Do you have a story idea already formed and are looking for a group of authors to collaborate like the Warrior Cats books and the collective penname of Erin Hunter?”
Julien wished he knew what and who all those names were.
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
He gave her a sheepish shake of the head. “I did warn you about my ignorance.”
She rolled her eyes. “I heard you when you said you didn’t know much about children’s literature, but I didn’t realize that equated to practically nothing. You, Julien King, are not leaving here without homework.”