In This Moment

Chapter Three

Outside the library, Rebecca stood with Dorothy, waiting on Scarlett and Forest for their meeting on renovations. Warm sunshine and a slight breeze bathed her skin, and she tilted her face to stare at a cloudless sky. Gorgeous day. Even better, they got to begin phase one of their project.

A handful of months ago, Rebecca and her besties had been blown over by inheriting the library. In nearly one hundred and fifty years, the building had never left Vallantine heirs. And then, boom. Dorothy had met with Mayor Davis on his request for reasons unbeknownst to them, and learned Sheldon and Rosemary Brown had bequeathed it to them. They’d also left them a sizeable check, which Scarlett had put into a new checking account in their names.

Rebecca shook her head. They’d dreamed as girls to one day own the library. Had discussed fantasies of opening a bookstore and all the things they’d do. Never in a million years had Rebecca thought they’d ever come to fruition. Yet, here they were.

By Zoom, while she’d still lived in Boston, they’d made tentative plans for the place and had thrown ideas around. Dorothy had gathered contractors, plumbers, and electricians to get estimates on repairs. Costs of those were astronomical, and wouldn’t leave much wiggle room.

Dorothy sighed, gaze on the library. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

“Me, either.” Rebecca looped her arm with Dorothy’s and leaned closer. “I can’t tell if I’m excited or nervous.” After all, they could fail in their attempt.

“Same.”

The library was a severely dilapidated two-story old colonial-style building with a tiny parking lot out front, large enough to hold maybe five cars. Six if they got creative. The white exterior had been repainted many times, but it had been years, and it was flaking off in chunks. The shutters were gone. A small concrete porch held no furniture or coziness, and only a few holly bushes lined the stairs, overgrown and gnarled. Two Greek support columns flanked the front overhang on either side of the door, and another two at the corners of the porch. A gabled roof, rectangular shape, and symmetrical windows were classic staples of the architecture, but it also had trace design elements like dental moldings along the eaves and pedimented dormers.

It was really a Vallantine focal point, due in part to the history, and because it rested at the tip of Main Square, overlooking the shops as if protecting them. Behind it were the roads that led to older areas of town like the cemetery and plantations.

Memories swamped her, filled her with happiness she hadn’t known in too long. She hadn’t realized it until she’d come home, but for years she’d merely survived and settled for getting by. It hadn’t been living. “Remember how we’d come here every Saturday and sit on that old smelly couch in the back? We’d read and gossip about boys.”

Dorothy tucked a stray strand of her red hair behind her ear, cherubic face lit in amusement. “And drive poor Mr. Brown nuts.”

Rebecca laughed. “Yeah. The man was a saint for putting up with us.” She hoped he and Mrs. Brown were living their best life traveling in their RV.

“Well, we were about the only people who graced the library back then. Plus, we did play matchmaker for them.”

“True story.” It was because they’d helped two introverted bookworms find their ever-after that the three of them had been gifted the library. At least, that’s what the letter had said. That, and they were the only ones who’d respect its walls or do it justice. “Gosh, how we’d talk about all the things we’d do when we grew up, how we were going to take the world by storm.”

So long ago, it seemed. Young girls with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts. And then they actually had grown up. Life and circumstances and reality had chimed the final say.

“You and Scarlett wanted to take the world by storm. I just wanted a house and kids.”

Rebecca smiled at her. “One out of two goals ain’t bad. You have plenty of time for the rest.”

“Maybe.” Dorothy tilted her head. “You got your journalism degree and on staff at a huge newspaper. Scarlett got the plantation and started her own business. Seems you two got everything you wanted.”

Not everything. “I’m still here, though, back where I started.”

“Could be worse places than here, Rebecca.” Dorothy looked at her, understanding in her depths. “I don’t know what happened to bring you home for good. Perhaps you’ll tell us the whole story someday. You didn’t seem happy in Boston, though. Not for a long, long time. So, yeah. There could be worse places than here.”

She was right. So very right. There was nothing wrong with Vallantine. It was a quiet, charming town with a lovely backdrop. All the people and places were familiar, and in this chunk of time, it was what Rebecca needed. Familiarity. Comfort. Plus, her besties were here.

Dorothy had not strived for grand adventures as a girl. All she’d ever mentioned was an accounting degree, a house, husband, and kids. The simple things most took for granted. She did the books for more than half the shops in town.

Scarlett had craved activity and social circles. Perhaps a hot lover on hotter nights who didn’t try to trap or own her. She’d utilized her decorative talents and people skills to create a thriving event business on her family’s old plantation. Lovers were still coming and going.

Rebecca was the only one of the three of them who’d wanted out of Vallantine. Not because she’d been unhappy, but because all the news and stories were elsewhere. Action was not within these city limits. Unless one counted rumors. She’d achieved two of her three goals, and should be proud of herself. Yet, all she could feel was failure. She’d done nothing of consequence, per her own high standards.

“You’re so wise.” Rebecca batted her eyelashes, shoving disappointment back into its hidey hole.

“That’s me. The grounded, smart one of the bunch.” Dorothy’s dry tone implied both boredom and displeasure with the personality moniker.

“And just what is wrong with that?”

Before Dorothy could respond, a red pickup truck pulled into the lot and parked.

Forest Truman. Former high school star quarterback and all-around great guy. Until the other night in the bar, Rebecca hadn’t seen him in ages. He’d been a cutie as a teen, but he’d filled out quite nicely as a man.

Which reminded her… “You still have a crush on him?”

Dorothy pinned her with a glare. “Must you? That was a long time ago.”

Hmm. Rebecca narrowed her eyes, watching Dorothy watch Forest as he exited the truck. She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze, and cleared her throat like she often did when nervous.

Yup. Still had a thing for him.

“Ladies. How are y’all on this fine day?” His grin should be on a billboard for selling wholesomeness as he flashed a row of straight white teeth. He’d shaved the whiskers since Saturday and finger-combed his longish light brown strands. A pair of khakis and a blue polo indicated he was probably heading back to work at the bank after their meeting. “Amazing weather.”

“Yes, it is.” Dorothy smiled politely, glancing toward the road. “Scarlett is late.”

He huffed a laugh. “Nothing new there. Would you like to start without her?”

Dorothy handled the financial end of things. Rebecca was good at marketing and product. Scarlett was the one with the eye for design and really should be present. Before Rebecca could point that out, Dorothy pulled a folder from her handbag and opened it.

“Scarlett has the key to the library, but we can go over a few things out here.”

Forest glanced at the packet Dorothy held, nodding as she summarized original structural features.

“So, the roof will need a total replacement. The crawl space is solid with no issues, as is the porch. All windows will need to be upgraded, though. As for the wood siding, many boards are rotted. The plan is to pull those off and swap ‘em out with new ones. Painters suggested sanding the many layers of paint, treating the wood, repainting, and then sealing it. I’ll go over plumbing and electrical inside.”

He grunted a sound of understanding. “Thus far, everything sounds good. The roof will have to maintain the original shape and materials, such as black shingles. Same for the siding, keeping it white. The windows might be an issue if you intend to change the one in the upstairs loft.”

Rebecca recalled a large stained-glass window depicting a book lying in the grass under a peach tree that allowed filtered light upstairs, and consumed nearly an entire wall. So pretty. It had been designed by William Vallantine himself when the library had been erected for his wife Katherine.

“Oh, no. That one’s in amazing shape and we wouldn’t dream of changing it. It’s a focal point, as Scarlett would say.” Dorothy flipped a page. “Back to the porch. There’re four steps, and it’s not wheelchair accessible. We would like to add a ramp beside the stairs.”

Forest glanced at the library, squinting. “I don’t foresee that being an issue.”

“Great.” Dorothy pointed to the right of the building where there was a large grassy field. “We would like to add a concrete lot over there for cars and make these five spots here handicap parking. Not the whole acre, but about half. Per the contractor, it would allow for approximately ten to twenty vehicles.”

Rebecca’s gut tightened in anxiety as she proverbially crossed her fingers.

Forest slowly nodded, gazing in that direction. “Terrific idea. Currently, parking is minimal. You wouldn’t be taking out any structures, elements, or trees in the process. Not to mention, it’ll free up parking on the street for the shops. I’ll sign off on that.”

Okay, good. That was one of three things that they’d been worried about with regards to their plans. Relief filled Rebecca, her shoulders relaxing, and she winked at Dorothy as they exchanged a brief thank-the-Lord glance. Any major changes that weren’t basic design features had to be approved by the Historical Society because the building and estate were landmarks. A parking lot was a huge change.

“Let’s go around back.” Dorothy tilted her head in that direction. “We can run through those plans.”

They made their way around the side of the library, Rebecca’s sneakers sinking into soft, plush green grass. Once behind the building, she crossed her arms and glanced around.

As girls, they’d not ventured into the backyard. If not for Scarlett and Dorothy sending her pictures before she’d moved home, Rebecca wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what the grounds looked like. There was at least half an acre of knee-high grass and weeds between the library and the tree line at the very back of the estate. Lots of potential usable space, as Scarlett had noted in one of their Zooms.

Dorothy exchanged a worried glance with Rebecca. This part of their plans was concern two out of three with regards to changes they wanted to make. And it all hinged on what the Historical Society allowed.

“What we’d like to do back here,” Dorothy hedged, “is add an addition to the building. The library itself is rather small. We have ideas on how to better use the space inside. However, it doesn’t really account for tables, computer kiosks, or a sitting area. Which isn’t helpful. People need a place to research or set their books, to sit and read.”

Forest pressed his lips into a thin line. “Not sure that’s gonna fly. What do you have in mind?”

Dorothy pulled out the plans. “So, the addition would be one-story, cover three-quarters of the grounds in back, and only be as wide as the current building. Ergo, you wouldn’t see it from the road. We’d slant the roof to look like a natural element or wing, because some Colonials had those, plus the siding and shingles would match. Part of the current back wall would need to be knocked out to accommodate double doors into the wing.”

Rebecca chewed the inside of her cheek and held her breath. Without approval for the addition, a good chunk of their plans would have to get refocused. They’d intended to put in tables with chairs on one side toward the front of the new wing, a casual sitting area with couches in back, and a kids’ area in the remaining portion. They didn’t have the funds for that part of the project, but Scarlett was going to front the money and just have the wing dedicated in the Taylor family name. She could afford it. She came from old money and her event business was booming.

“Sounds like it wouldn’t detract from the original floorplan or architecture.” Forest frowned and rubbed his jaw. “I’ll have to take this to the Society and vote on it.”

Rebecca let out an exhale. That wasn’t an outright no.

“I thought you might say that.” Dorothy smiled. “You can keep that copy for the Society. The backside of the blueprint has what materials we intend to use, right down to flooring, lighting, and wall color.”

He nodded. “That’ll help.”

“I’m sorry. So sorry I’m late, y’all.” Scarlett rushed toward them, red cocktail dress the same shade as her lipstick and heels. She had her sleek cocoa locks in a high ponytail that swung with her frantic baby steps as she maneuvered across the grass. Somehow, she made even that seem elegant. “Betty Lou Jorgensen has done changed her color scheme for her bridal shower this weekend three times in as many days. I swear, between her and her future mother-in-law, they have put me half in the grave. Bless their hearts. What did I miss?”

Forest huffed a laugh.

Dorothy sighed. “We went over the outside plans. I’ll fill you in later.”

“Perfect.” Scarlett grinned, her excitement obvious as she was busting at the seams. She held up a key. “We ready to go in?”

“Yes, ma’am. After you.”

“Now, Forest. Surely, I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.” Head tilted, Scarlett’s eyelashes created a wake.

He scratched the back of his head, expression contrite. “My mistake.”

“Lordy.” Rebecca rolled her eyes and steered Scarlett along the side of the building toward the front. “You know damn well it was ingrained respect, not an insult.” Rebecca lowered her tone. “And why are you flirting with Forest Truman, of all people?” No matter how long ago, Dorothy had a thing for him. Or used to. Perhaps still did. Whatever. Besties didn’t go after forbidden fruit.

Scarlett gasped. “I did not flirt with him.”

Maybe not. She was social and outgoing to a fault. It was hard to tell with her.

Rebecca eyed her as they walked. “If you say so.” She glanced over her shoulder, noting Forest and Dorothy were lagging a few steps behind and chatting amongst themselves. “The parking lot, porch ramp, roof, and siding are a go. He has to have the Society vote on the possible addition.”

A wrinkle of her nose, and Scarlett all but skipped in place. “That’s awesome.”

“Word. Hopefully, the vote will go in our favor. Now, behave yourself.”

“I am always on my best behavior.”

Rebecca let out a sound of disbelief. “You don’t have a best behavior.”

“You love me anyway.” Scarlett made a kissy face and climbed the porch steps, unlocking the library door.

Following her inside, Rebecca glanced around as Dorothy and Forest spread out paperwork on the ivory marble counter in the center of the room, where Mr. Brown used to sit.

It had been eons since Rebecca had seen the place, but fondness squeezed her throat. This wonderful, wonderful building had been their refuge as girls. They’d sit and read, gossip, and make plans for the future. It’s where she’d daydreamed about working for a newspaper, all the stories she’d report. The boys who’d captured and broken their hearts. The library was worse off than she’d recalled, yet they’d fix it. Restore it to its former glory and do right by it. She closed her eyes a brief beat, smiling. Gosh, it smelled the same, though. Aged paper, old wood, and a trace of dust.

Square footage on the main level was roughly twenty-five hundred square feet, and about half that for the second story loft. Wide-open floor plan. A wrought iron set of curved stairs led to the upper area with a matching railing. The top portion of the large stained-glass window could be spotted below. The loft otherwise was empty. Had been for a long time. The ceiling was coffered with copper plating. The floorboards were original cherry. Wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the left, right, and part of the back wall. Empty now, which made her sad. Dorothy said many of the books were in a storage room in back. Mr. and Mrs. Brown had only taken the family volumes with them. Still, there was nothing more heartbreaking than a vacant bookshelf.

There was an errant scent of dust and mildew that stung her sinuses. A testament to time marching on and taking no prisoners. They’d freshen that up, too.

“Alright,” Dorothy said through a sigh. “The floorboards needed refinishing two decades ago. That’s on the docket.” She glanced up. An enormous lead-glass chandelier overhead had cobwebs forming their own cobwebs. “The chandelier is original, and we intend to keep it, just have it cleaned. Same for the copper plating. Plumbing and electrical haven’t been updated since the turn of the twentieth century. Electricians are going to switch the fuse box with a circuit breaker and add more outlets. We also have cable providers coming in to hardwire ethernet cables for internet. Plumbers plan to replace several pipes, plus the bathroom is getting remodeled. We’ll keep the original tile.”

Forest surveyed the papers. “Sounds fine by me.”

“Here’s where things get tricky. To add heat and AC, they’ll have to run ductwork in the crawl space, then cut out spaces in the floor for vents.” Dorothy eyed him, worry creasing her brow.

It would suck if they couldn’t upgrade. The library had never had heating or AC. Rebecca watched him closely as he scanned the blueprints on where vents would go per the contractor.

“Honestly,” he said at length, “I don’t see this being a problem, either. Visitors are going to be more comfortable, and the vent placements aren’t looking like they’ll screw with anything. If I may offer a suggestion? I’d consider old-fashioned vent covers to fit with the period.”

Scarlett set her hands on her hips, nodding approval. “I like it. Good idea.”

Dorothy shuffled some papers. “Chunks of plaster are missing from many areas in the walls upstairs. The contractor said he can fix that, or at least fit drywall to blend. However, the Greek support columns for the loft are possibly unstable.”

Yeah. One of them slanted precariously to the left. Rebecca gave it a look since she’d only seen photos. There were two columns holding up the overhang of the loft that resembled the ones on the porch. Beyond them was the back wall shelving, where the couch they used to hang out on as teenagers had been removed. She always thought of it as a cozy nook.

Forest frowned in thought. “What are you thinking?”

“Complete replacement.” Dorothy crossed her arms. “We can try to match what’s currently there, but it won’t be exact.”

“Okay, just so long as you don’t use metal poles or something that’ll throw off the design. I mean, the place has to be structurally sound, so go ahead.”

Rebecca shuffled her feet. “Sheldon Brown’s great-grandmother carved her name on one of the columns when she was a girl. It’s been painted over, but you can still see traces of the knife indentations. We were thinking of cutting that out and framing it somewhere.”

“Didn’t know that.” He rubbed his jaw. “If I’m on the Historical Society and wasn’t aware, I’ll bet others don’t. Regardless, I like the idea of framing that part of the library’s past.”

That was a huge relief. Rebecca shared a look with Scarlett, who appeared just as grateful the columns wouldn’t be a problem. All issues had been addressed but one, and it was a biggie.

“Last but not least.” Dorothy cleared her throat. “Lighting is sparce. As it stands, the chandelier is the only source, minus the storeroom and bathroom. We’d like to add recessed lighting here, here, here, and here.” On the blueprints, she pointed to the four areas they’d discussed by Zoom, which were under the loft overhang, two in the loft itself, and two along both the right and left walls by the built-in shelves. “Recessed lighting doesn’t fit with the architecture, but it would be the least invasive, offer the most light, and is cost-effective for us.”

“Eesh.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled. “Not sure on that one.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “I’ll bring it to the Society for a vote. Could go either way. On the one hand, you don’t want it too dark in here, but on the other, it has to fit the style.”

Scarlett snapped her fingers, an aha expression lifting her brows. “What if we add a ceiling medallion design plate around each light? It’ll give the period appearance, yet still allow for the fixtures. It would mesh well with the copper plating, too.”

Rebecca metaphorically patted Scarlett on the back. The idea was brilliant. They could get medallions at any home improvement store for little money. Plus, it was a win-win for them and the Society.

“Okay, that might sway the vote.” He jotted what she assumed were some notes on his copy of the packet. “That should do it. I have one question, though, not related to your plans.” He grinned, carefree and child-like. “Is the library really haunted?”

Scarlett threw her head back and laughed.

Rebecca shook her head, amused. Legend was, Katherine Vallantine loved books. It was why her beloved husband had built the library for her in the first place. Somehow, through the years, word got around she haunted the place after she’d died, that she assisted all who entered seeking knowledge. Rebecca and her besties had never encountered such a spirit, but Mrs. Brown had mentioned once that Katherine’s journal had appeared out of nowhere to her and Mr. Brown before they’d married. Anything was possible.

“I doubt it.” Dorothy slid paperwork back into a folder.

“Oh, come now.” Scarlett placed a hand on her chest, laughter residing. “You never know.”

They saw Forest out and locked the door. Dorothy and Scarlett had to get back to work, which reminded Rebecca of her next task. She had to bite the bullet.

Once everyone had gone, she glanced at her reflection in her car window. She’d worn light makeup, her hair down, and a lavender blouse with khaki capris. Casual but nice. It would have to do.

A sigh, and she grabbed her portfolio from the passenger seat, then headed down Main Street on foot. Gammy’s house didn’t have a mortgage, but there were bills piling up. It was time she got herself a job.