16. Nicole
Chapter sixteen
Nicole
T urns out, I’m no good at waiting. The not knowing is what drives me crazy. If our proposal is not accepted, that’s fine. I can move forward. If it is accepted, that’s great. I can make plans for the conference. But not knowing either way? My brain can’t handle all the possible outcomes.
I keep busy by planning the launch party for the graphic novel collection. We scheduled it for the middle of February and are going all out with food and activities as a fun way to introduce the Harkness community to the graphic novels. Herb gave me a conservative budget, but I’ve already found a few ways to save money on low priority costs and spend more on a couple of flashy ideas I have. Like I noticed that every time the library hosts an event, we buy paper plates, napkins, cups, and all that. But there are always leftovers that get shoved in a closet in the back hallway by my office. So instead of buying more paper products for the graphic novel event, I’m just going to use what we already have. Economical and more eco-friendly!
The week of the party is busy. Not only are students gearing up for midterms and starting to linger in the library more, but I let Ashley, the science professor I met at Soapbox, convince me to meet her for lunch.
I spend the morning before my lunch with Ashley at the reference desk. Around 11:30, an older woman with long, white hair walks into the library. She wears green slacks and a white cable knit sweater with a denim jacket over top. Around her neck is a black and white striped scarf—the fashionable kind, not the kind for warmth.
As she approaches me at the reference desk, I notice her deep brown eyes and the laugh lines around them.
“Hello,” she says, smiling at me broadly.
“Hello,” I respond.
She studies my name badge. “Nicole,” she hums. Then, under her breath, “So pretty.”
Um, what? I try to catch the eye of the security guard across the library. During business hours on the weekdays, the library doors are unlocked and open for anyone to come in. Evenings and weekends, we’re more locked down, with students or employees required to scan their badge for entry. St. Anastasia gets a lot of tourists and sometimes groups of them will walk in just to see the building. We ask them to stay on the first floor, but they’re normally quiet and respectful as they look around .
But this … this is a new one. The woman is by herself which makes me think she’s not a tourist.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask tentatively, still trying to telepathically call the security guard over.
“Now that you mention it — ”
Just then I see Adam speed walking toward the desk, having just come out of the staff office area.
“Mom,” he says breathlessly. “I thought you were going to wait for me outside?”
My mouth falls open. This is Adam’s mom? I look her over again, and now I notice the resemblance. The slender frame. The brown eyes. The lilting smile.
“Well, honey, I was, but then I thought I’d pop in to see if I could meet any of the coworkers you’ve hinted about.” Adam’s face flushes red. “And now having done so, I can definitely see what you mean.” She winks.
“Means about what?” I ask innocently. I can tell she’s teasing him about something, and I give in to my urge to join her.
“Nothing,” Adam says quickly.
Adam’s mom places her hand on his arm. “Honey, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Adam rubs the back of his neck. Shoulders drooping in defeat, he announces, “Mom, this is Nicole. Nicole, this is my mother, Mary Burgess.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Burgess,” I grin.
“It’s Dr. Burgess, actually.” She smiles back. “But you can call me Mary. ”
I nod. “Mary,” I say, “are you a medical doctor, or…?”
She chuckles. “No. I have an education doctorate. After many years as a schoolteacher, I became a high school principal.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Brave,” I say.
She shrugs. “It had its moments.”
Adam looks back and forth between me and his mother. He clears his throat. “Well, we should get going—”
“What brings you to Parker Library today, Mary?” I ask, ignoring Adam’s obvious efforts to pull his mother away.
She beams. “Adam’s taking me to lunch.”
I put my hand to my heart. “Aww,” I can’t help but gush. “That’s so sweet.”
She grins slyly, glancing at Adam. “He’s a very sweet man,” she says. “And handsome. Don’t you think he’s handsome, Nicole?”
“Um…” My face feels warm as I decide how to respond.
Adam quickly jumps in. “You don’t need to answer.”
But I notice a glint of curiosity in his eyes. I throw him a bone.
“Of course he is,” I answer Mary honestly. “A man with glasses always looks so distinguished.”
I didn’t think Adam’s blush could go any deeper, but at my words, his face is literally crimson. Mary looks smug as she pats his arm. I feel a little smug, too, but I can’t explain why.
“Well, dear, let’s get going. We can talk to Nicole more later.”
“Are you here all week?” I ask hastily.
“Yes,” she replies. “I don’t leave until Sunday.”
“You should come to the graphic novel launch party on Thursday. It’s a project Adam and I have been working on. ”
She eyes Adam questioningly. “I’d love to. Adam’s mentioned the project, of course. He’s quite excited about it. But he never mentioned who he was working on it with.”
Adam grimaces, and I get the feeling they’ll have a lot to talk about over lunch. I pause. Like me?
Finally, I grin. “See you Thursday, then.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, dear.”
I echo her sentiment and let my mind drift for my last few minutes at the reference desk. On Monday, Adam texted me a meme with a picture of a loaded baked potato and the caption:
“If you’re not happy single, you won’t be happy married. Happiness comes from eating potatoes, not from relationships.”
I texted him back: “Especially in tater tot form.”
Our earlier ease is back, and I’m relieved that I didn’t ruin our working relationship with my idiotic moment. Technically, I’ve known Adam since I started working here, I guess. But over the last four months of working together, I’ve seen another side of him. And he has seen other sides of me, too.
I inwardly cringe, remembering our embarrassing encounter after Soapbox a month ago. I don’t even know what came over me. I don’t want to kiss Adam. Do I? Yes, he’s handsome. And funny. And sweet. But I don’t want to date anyone. And if I did, I wouldn’t date a coworker who so obviously has a crush on me. My heart skips a beat and my stomach flutters. Of course, it’s silly to think about.
Just then, Samantha arrives to relieve me at the reference desk. I run to my office to grab my phone and then walk to the restaurant in time to meet Ashley .
We’re eating at a kitschy pub about a block from the college, popular with both tourists and locals. The pub is housed in what was once a home built in the 1800s in the Florida cracker architectural style. It’s supposedly haunted by the late owner who died of a broken heart when his wife, for whom he was building the house, left him for another man. At night, the pub is rowdy, but during the day, it’s a decent place to get a burger.
I see Ashley waiting for me on the front porch of the pub, and she smiles. We hug awkwardly, and she says, “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”
“Me too,” I reply. When I met Ashley at Soapbox last month, she said she’d email me, but I hadn’t really expected her to follow through. I’ve had trouble making friends since moving here. Most people, I’ve found, are already pretty happy with the friends they have and aren’t eager to add more. I figured Ashley was just being polite.
But she did email, and we’ve been chatting back and forth for the last couple of weeks. She’s the one who pushed for us to meet up in person, and I’m grateful.
After we order and start talking, I find that Ashley is also not a fan of small talk. We launch right into a fairly deep discussion of the history of the pub and other ghost stories from around St. Anastasia.
“Have you ever been on the ghost tour?” she asks. I shake my head. “It’s fun! The tour guide is in character as a ghost, and the group walks all around downtown, learning about different spooky sightings and stories. We should go sometime! My fiancé, Paul, loves it.”
“Oh, that’s right!” I remember. “Adam said you were engaged. Tell me about Paul.”
“He’s dreamy,” she says with a goofy smile on her face. “We moved here together after I got the job at Harkness. We met in D.C.”
“And when’s the wedding?” I ask.
“This summer.” She grins. “I’m not teaching any classes, so lots of time for wedding prep.”
“What does Paul do?”
“He works for a tech company. He can really work from anywhere, which is nice. His job’s really flexible.” She pauses. “What about you and Adam?” she asks casually. “Are you together?”
“Oh no,” I quickly protest, my pulse speeding up. “We’re just friends. Well, coworkers. Friend-type coworker people.” Ashley gives me a strange look. I sigh. “I had a bad breakup a while back,” I explain, “so I don’t really date.”
“That’s too bad.” Ashley frowns. “Adam’s a really great guy.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Ashley looks at me skeptically. “You wouldn’t start dating again, even for a guy like Adam?”
“It’s complicated.” I shake my head.
She shrugs. “If you say so.” Then, after a few minutes, she hints, “You know, Adam might like the ghost tour too.”
“Maybe,” I allow. “I mean, no, he would definitely love that. But we’ll see.”
Before I’m ready, it’s time to head back to work. I still have a lot to do to get ready for the launch party in two days. Before parting ways, Ashley and I exchange phone numbers and promise to do this more often.
I run into Adam again on my way back into the library. He’s alone, so his mom must have left already.
“Where’d you take your mom for lunch?” I ask him.
“The Seville Café,” he responds. “Do you know it?” I shake my head. “You know the old hotel building a couple of blocks from here that they turned into a museum? When it was a hotel, it had this huge indoor pool. The bottom of that pool is now the café dining room. It’s pretty cool.”
I gape at him. “That sounds amazing.”
Adam eyes me cautiously. “We should go sometime.”
The flutter is back in my stomach, but I will it away. “Yeah, that would be fun,” I say casually. “We can talk about the graphic novel project.”
Adam smiles, but I see the disappointment in his eyes. “Sure,” he says.
Thursday morning is a blur of activity as I run around getting all the pieces in place for the graphic novel collection launch party. Despite the emphasis I’ve been putting on it in my own brain, the “party” is actually a pretty casual affair. We scheduled two hours in the middle of the day when students, faculty, and staff can come into the library and enjoy light festivities in honor of the graphic novels .
We have a table of refreshments, including iced sugar cookies I had specially made with comic book action words in colorful designs: Wham! Zap! Ka-boom! Pow! The cookies used most of my event budget, but they look amazing.
And they match my dress. I ordered, using my own money of course, a comic pop print dress online. The dress has a black background covered with comic book action words and speech bubbles in bright red, yellow, blue, and orange. The skirt is semi-pleated and flares out over my hips, flowing down to my knees. It has a sweetheart neckline, and since it’s a tank-top style and I’m at work, I wear a sunshine yellow cardigan over top of it. My red ballet flats add another bit of color. It’s all ridiculous, and I love it. Will I ever wear this dress again? No, probably not, but I’m having fun wearing it today.
We set up a second table with drawing supplies so students can create their own comic-style artwork. Displayed above this table are sample pages from the graphic novels in our collection.
Then, of course, front and center, the focal point of the event, is the shelf of graphic novels, newly cataloged and ready to check out. We have fifty total to start with, so we’ll see how well they circulate over the next few weeks and months. My hope is that we can justify buying more before the fall term.
The event goes well. Students flow through, munching on cookies, drawing, and flipping through the graphic novels. The most frequent question of the day is, “I can check this out?”
I repeat, “Yes, of course. Please do,” over and over again and my cheeks start to ache from holding a friendly smile in place. I’ll be exhausted after the event is over. I plan to shut the door to my office and just be alone for two hours this afternoon to recover.
My outfit gets lots of compliments, though I’m not sure if they actually like how it looks, or if they’re just impressed with my bravery for wearing it in public. I know that despite my best intentions, I’ll spend some time dissecting everyone’s words and glances later, trying not to feel embarrassed after the fact.
In between smiling and answering questions, I keep glancing at the doors. My eyes frequently wander to the back door that connects the public area of the library to the staff offices, but I also watch the front door too often. I know what, or rather who, I’m looking for, but I don’t see Adam or his mother until the last thirty minutes of the event.
Adam helped set up tables this morning, but that all happened while I was out picking up the cookies from a local bakery not too far from the college. Being that Adam is not an interacting-with-people type of librarian, we agreed that he should make an appearance at the event but doesn’t have to be here the whole time. Even still, I’m surprised I haven’t seen him at all yet today.
Finally, the back door opens, and Adam emerges, smiling back at his mother who’s close behind. He turns and our eyes lock across the room. He gives me a once-over, the smile on his lips replaced with a look of awe. Eyes wide, he stalks toward me, Mary watching him closely with a smirk on her face.
“That’s quite a dress,” he says when he reaches me.
“I hope I don’t look too ridiculous. ”
“Not at all. You look amazing.” The heat in his eyes confirms his words.
I press my fingers to my warm cheeks to cool them down. “Thank you,” I say carefully. “I thought it would be fun.”
He surveys me again, his gaze lingering on the bodice of my dress. “It is,” he affirms. “I like the pattern.”
Mary approaches us, then, exclaiming, “Well, don’t you look festive!”
I turn toward her and smile, though I can still feel Adam’s eyes on me.
I end up chatting with Mary the rest of the event, in between answering questions from the last few guests trickling through. I really like her. She’s funny and whip-smart, and maybe because she reminds me a bit of my own mother, I don’t feel like I met her just this week, but like we’ve been good friends forever. Adam hovers on the periphery, interjecting comments from time to time, but otherwise listening quietly. At one point, he steps away to examine the artwork left behind on the drawing table, and Mary rests her hand on my arm.
“It’s been so nice meeting you, Nicole,” she sighs with a contented smile.
“You too, Mary, but listen, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I’m not sure what Adam’s told you — ”
“He’s told me nothing, dear.”
“Okay,” I continue, watching the top of Adam’s head across a group of students walking past, “but you should know that Adam and I are just coworkers. He’s lovely to work with, but that’s all this is.” Desperately, I reach for her hand and cling to it, willing her to understand.
She squeezes my hand gently, her eyes soft. “It will work out,” she murmurs.
I want to shake her a little, make her realize I’m not a match for her son. I also have the unexplainable but frantic urge to pump her for information, ask her what will work out, and how exactly, and how can she know for sure?
But Adam returns, and we drop our hands while he gives us a quizzical look. I force a smile and finish out the event, thoughts swirling and counting down the minutes until I can escape to my office.