Chapter 11 #2
“Nothing’s wrong with them. I’m just wondering if there’s a way to make them more accessible.”
“Accessible?”
“Most younger people don’t carry cash. They use their phones for everything, including paying for parking.”
Nadine sniffed. “I’ve heard of these app things. You wave your phone in front of a screen and it pays for parking.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I would never have my credit card on the internet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know how that works. You enter your credit card number on a computer and then hackers steal it and drain your bank accounts dry. AARP had a whole series on cyber security, and I’m not some stupid old woman. Good old coin is better than exposing people to having their bank accounts stolen!”
Oh, dear.
“That’s a really good point, Nadine. Hmmm.”
“That’s what I told Harry!”
“Harry?”
“Our former business development director. He wanted those app things and I put a stop to the whole mess.”
“You did?”
“I did. Protecting people is what I do, working for the police department. I might not drive a cruiser or wear a badge, but I protect and serve in my own way.”
“Your commitment is wonderful. You’re helping me to see the town in a whole new light.”
“Thank you!” Nadine smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
“I still haven’t forgiven you for trash talking my town, but maybe you’re not as bad as Kell made you out to be.”
All the air in Rachel’s chest rushed out at once.
“Right. Thanks.”
With a wave, Nadine walked over to the counter and began talking to Reef about something involving a coffee donation to her church auction.
Suddenly, Rachel’s email seemed less engaging. That comment about Kell physically hurt.
Burying herself in work was the best approach.
A video-heavy Zip file made downloading a frustrating experience, the coffee shop’s internet too weak to do the job right. After trying for twenty minutes, she packed up, went to the counter and asked, “What’s the best wireless network in town I can connect to?”
“That’d be Bilbee’s.”
“The tavern?”
“Yep. Stronger than the library or the town hall.”
“People bring their laptops into the bar and work?”
“Hell, no. Rider would shoot you on the spot.”
Rachel laughed.
Reef didn’t.
“Okay,” she said with a long exhale. “Short of Bilbee's, what’s best?”
“Library. And Dotty won’t lay into you. She’ll likely agree with you and your rant.”
“Dotty? Dotty Chen? The librarian?”
“You’re learning. Memorizing names.”
“Have to. It’s for work.”
He winked at her and pointed. “Two blocks to the right, then a left at the light. Can’t miss the red library.”
“Seventy-five percent of the buildings are red.”
“Seventy-five percent of the red buildings don’t say LIbrARY on them.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed.
As she left, the cold air instantly turned the rim of her nostrils to ice. She belted her red coat tighter, avoided eye contact, kept her head down, and hoped the library had those old-fashioned study carrels where she could truly hide.
“Rachel!” a woman called out as she walked past Love You Chocolate.
Lucinda.
Oh, no.
“Rachel,” she said, one eyebrow arching in judgment. “I’ve meant to call you about our February 15th meeting, but the store has been packed.”
Every muscle in her body turned to glue. “Our meeting?”
“Yes. I heard your rant yesterday.”
“You heard it?”
“I happened to be outside, on my way to an appointment. You have quite the opinion of Luview, haven’t you?”
“I can explain.”
“You already did. Don’t walk your words back. Own them.”
Confidence, Rachel, she heard in her head, her mother’s voice taking over. Always, Confidence.
“Fine. I own them. But I was less than elegant.”
“After the four days you’ve had here, if rumor is correct, I’d be shocked if you maintained your composure, child.”
The word child almost made Rachel laugh.
Now was not a good time to do anything almost.
So she didn’t.
“And yet, your words were disturbing. Backward, stuck? Stuck? Were you referring to me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Rachel.” Lucinda’s tone was frank.
“I was referring to an overall pattern here. If you don’t innovate, the town will fall behind the rest of the world.
And I get it–I do. You don’t care about what other towns do.
That’s not what I mean. There’s a huge difference between choosing to preserve the town’s character and making yourself irrelevant. ”
“You really have studied the town.”
“Parts of it.”
“The poison ivy boy helped show you, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
“I heard he showed you the hot springs.”
“Please tell me you didn’t personally witness that from your window.”
“No. Just heard about it from one of the cashiers. You’ve made quite a splash, my dear.”
Rachel chuckled at the pun. “I came here to help you sell to Markstone's and make a difference. Instead, I’ve made a nuisance of myself.”
“You have a keen eye for improving the town. Why don’t you write up your ideas and give them to the town manager? Or the development committee?”
“That sounds like a lot of unpaid work.”
“And how much unpaid rental space are your critiques of my town taking up in your head?”
Rachel blinked. “I’ve never thought of it that way before.”
Lucinda’s face was a study in wrinkles, her bright red lipstick and heart earrings in contrast to her white hair and piercing eyes. “May I say something personal?”
“I thought you just did.”
Lucinda’s demeanor shifted, turning friendlier. “You strike me as being somewhat at a crossroads, Rachel.”
“That is a very astute observation.”
“And when you’re at a crossroads in life, you should always stop before deciding which direction to choose.”
“Okay.”
“Take your time. No one dictates how long you stand there, weighing out your options. Gather information. Observe. Let yourself marinate in possibility. Then, when you make a decision, you know it comes from your deepest self.”
“That is very philosophical.”
“Ah, no. It’s the opposite. Exceedingly practical advice from someone who has gotten it wrong sometimes and right at others.” Lucinda took in a deep breath through her nose and looked at her store. “I must go. It’s the love-liest time of the year. I won’t have many more of these, you know.”
“Because you’re going to sell to Markstone's?”
“No, dear. Because I am eighty-eight years old and, sadly, mortal.”
With a squeeze of her forearm, Lucinda walked slowly back to her store, leaving Rachel more dazed than before.
Had that been… positive? Or one big critique from Lucinda?
Rachel resumed her walk to the library, blissfully uninterrupted the rest of the way.
The Luview library was a small brick building, red enough naturally, but with two huge picture windows on either side of a large door. The windows had bright red shutters and the door was red as well.
A heart-shaped sign said Luview Library, leaving no question she’d found it.
As she opened the front door, she found herself in a small, warm foyer, the blast of heat making her shake slightly. How did people live like this? It was so different from all her years in southern California’s more temperate climate.
Inside, the library smelled like books, and she inhaled reflexively.
She loved libraries, though she’d never been the kind of kid who just hung out in them.
Always busy with whatever lessons her mother had scheduled for her, she was more likely to be at cheerleading practice than reading the newest Suzanne Collins book.
But in college, she’d discovered her favorite mysteries, and now she was determined to get her hands on one.
As she approached the front desk, she wondered how much time Kell had spent here.
A lifelong resident, this would have been his library as a kid.
Was Deanna the type to bring her family here with empty bookbags, letting the kids choose books to load up and read throughout the week?
Did they walk here on their own as they got older?
Rachel’s best friend in elementary and middle school, Madi Taylor, had a mom like that. Portia had called her “very domestic,” as if that were quaint.
Maybe that’s why Rachel found herself drawn to Kell’s mom. She reminded Rachel of Madi’s mother, Tigue, who was always ready to give them whatever attention they asked for. Countless afternoons of playing Monopoly flashed through her memory.
“Hello! You must be Rachel!”
Drawn out of her reverie, Rachel looked up at the woman behind the desk. Her salt-and-pepper hair was set off by bright red glasses, each eyepiece in the shape of a rounded heart.
“Um, yes.”
“I’m Dotty Chen. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard all about you.”
“Thanks. Is that good or bad?”
“Welcome to our town. You’re allowed to have opinions about it.”
“Ah. You heard.”
“Indirectly. But,” Dotty shrugged, “no town is perfect.”
Rachel looked around the orderly space. “No, but this library looks great.”
“What do you need? How can I help?”
“I’d like to check out a book. The bookstore doesn’t sell what I want to read, so…”
Dotty laughed softly. “I get that a lot. You know, they tried to do the same thing to this library. The Love Committee.”
“I take it that you’re not a member.”
“Goodness, no. Any committee that tries to get the library to weed out all books that aren’t about love is on my you-know-what list.”
Rachel chuckled in solidarity.
“Librarians are nice, agreeable folks until you try to remove freedom of choice from our patrons. Then we become warriors.”
“Got it. And I agree.”
“I have good news and bad news. You’re not a resident, so I can’t give you a regular card.”
“Oh.”
“But! If you can show me a library card from your home library, we have a special visitor’s card. It’s good for seven days, and we allow you to check out one book.”
“Just one?”
“One at a time.”
“That’s all I need.” Rachel reached into her bag, found her wallet, and showed Dotty her library card.