Charlotte
The lobby of Stephen Gott’s office smells like one of those candles that’s supposed to mimic the ocean, but it really just smells like jasmine and salt. Of all the times I’ve been to the beach, I’ve never seen or smelled jasmine flowers. Salt, yes. But never jasmine.
The secretary eyes me warily from behind his desk, tapping away at his computer. He took my name with a sneer and gestured to the vinyl seat with a limp hand. I check my watch, double-checking that I am in fact early to this meeting. My knee bounces, and I try to calm myself with deep breathing.
I texted Gott yesterday using the number that I had from high school. I wasn’t expecting to hear back. But then his secretary called almost immediately offering an appointment for the following day.
Now here I am, waiting for a meeting that could make a difference in our fight for the library, or be a complete waste of time.
No pressure.
My knee bounces on the gray carpet. I wish Aidan could be here. He wanted to be come with me, but this meeting is in the middle of a parent-teacher conference that he can’t get out of.
My phone vibrates wildly and I pull it out to find multiple texts in the Committee Group Chat, who all know about the meeting because I told them yesterday.
Aidan: Good luck!
Nicole: Steal something from his office!
Xander: If he mentions the dog shit, you don’t know us.
Johnny: Remind him that he owes me $100 for the marinara.
Lisa W: You’ve got this lol!
Nicole: uh what do you think lol means?
Lisa W: Lots of love?
I chuckle and reply with the face palm gift of Captain Picard.
Charlotte: Thanks guys!
A door behind me opens, and I turn to find Stephen Gott.
He’s dressed in a clean, sleek navy suit with not a wrinkle in sight.
His red hair is combed back. He smiles at me, and I get flashbacks of our relationship.
Me reading and writing while he poured over history books, broken up by making out in his parents’ basement. Or should I call them nightmares?
I swallow bile. I used to date this guy.
“Charlotte,” he sings out. His voice is cool, and there’s a drawl to his voice. “How are you?”
I rise from the pleather bench and hold out a hand. “Mr. Gott, thank you for meeting with me on short notice.”
“Of course, anything for an old friend.” He emphasizes the word friend, studies me for a second, and flinches somewhat.
Is he afraid of me? Why?
“You look great. What’s it been? Fifteen years? Damn, you don’t look at day over eighteen.” He says quickly and gestures toward the office behind him. “Come on in.”
“Reading keeps one young,” I reply and follow him into the office, trying to ignore the slightly pedophilic comment.
Ew.
My eyes widen at the stunning view. Floor to ceiling windows overlook downtown Canterbury, which is a little bigger than Summerville but not as charming.
The Catoctin Mountains loom in the distance against a backdrop of a crystal-clear blue sky.
In the middle of the room is a red oak desk with a laptop and stacked papers.
Behind the desk is a black leather chair.
He gestures to one of the chairs in front of the desk, and I sit down.
He waves at me. “Now Charlotte, before we continue, I insist you call me Stephen. Come on, you knew me when I had a mullet.”
“I believe I had braces,” I muse. “I promise I won’t share those pictures online.”
“I appreciate it. It took me long enough to scrub every unpleasant photo of me off the internet.” He raps a knuckle against the desk.
“Pardon the shabbiness and the dust. I’m hoping to renovate soon, and this office is just, well, it really needs it.
My predecessor did not believe in renovating official buildings. Even if they are falling apart”
My gaze travels around the room. It’s neat and tidy, with nary a spot of dust in sight. “Really? This is really nice. Definitely fancier than mine.”
Stephen slams a binder shut, and something tickles my nose. I sneeze.
“Gott bless you. See, I told you about the dust.”
I blink a few moments. Did he just bless me? I shake away the thought and shift in the plush chair in front of his desk.
“So, how are you?” Stephen asks as he sits, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
“Fine.” I tap my hand against my thigh. “I’m busy with my bookstore, but I’m just fine. How are you? Belated congratulations on your election.”
“Why, thank you. I’m doing fantastic. We’re making a real difference for the community. It’s so invigorating to be a mover and shaker,” he says. He gestures to a photo on one of the side tables. “Plus, I’m getting married this fall.”
“Congratulations. That’s exciting.” I plaster on a smile and glance at the photo without studying it. I take a deep breath, steadying myself for the speech I’ve planned. “While I’d love to catch up. I’m here on business. Specifically, the Summerville Public Library.”
His brows lift. “Oh? What about it?”
I tilt my head. Does he not know that he’s going to close it? “Your proposed budget is going to close the library.” I study his face. His expression is open and non-concerned.
“Oh right, I do recall that.” He nods, gesturing for me to continue. “What’s the problem with that? It’s a drain on our resources and doesn’t bring in much revenue.”
My teeth grind as I clench my jaw. “Well, the library is not just a place where people can get books. It’s the heart of our community. It’s a meeting place. A place of education and community. Summerville would suffer, including my bookstore.”
“How would it affect your bookstore?” He asks. “Wouldn’t it benefit you to not have the competition?”
I frown. How many times am I going to have to explain this to people? I give the spiel that I gave Georgie at the Town Meeting. He appears to listen, but every few seconds, his eyes dart towards his computer. He’s not even listening to me.
Asshole.
“I see.” He winces for a few seconds, but the expression doesn’t seem genuine. It looks practiced. “I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do about it.”
My face falls. “What do you mean? You’re the County Executive. You created the budget? Surely, there’s something you can do.”
“Not after I’ve given the budget to the County Council.
I can’t just take it back and redo it. That’s against the Charter Laws.
” He shrugs nonchalantly. “But this isn’t because I don’t support your cause or the library.
In fact, it’s the opposite. I would love to keep the library open.
” He sucks in his lower lip and taps his fingers.
I don’t fail to notice the fact that he switched his viewpoint without a second thought.
He continues, “My hands are tied. I’ve inherited a multi-million-dollar deficit from my predecessor, and I’ve had to make some tough decisions regarding what should and shouldn’t be included in this year’s budget.
” He sighs. “It was so hard. I had to reduce the budgets of all the departments, but some of them are more vital than others. People won’t die if I reduce the library system funding. ”
“I see,” I say, biting down an argument that many public services aren’t exactly life or death, but they still improve the quality of existence. Instead, I ask, “Is there any way to keep the library open?”
He shakes his head. “Not without reducing the law enforcement budget to the point where we layoff police officers. That would make me incredibly unpopular with the sheriff, and I need her support right now. I already had to cut the education budget by laying off about a dozen teachers, but they’ll find jobs in other counties.
We’re also putting off some major roadwork projects in order to afford a bridge replacement. ”
“You’ve been making a lot of tough calls,” I say, nodding in understanding. “It makes a lot of sense.”
“Unless you can convince the County Council to reject my budget, I can’t help. Although I’m not sure how you can do that. Two of the council members have been hounding me about the deficit.” Stephen shrugs. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I really am. I wish there was something I could do, but I can’t.”
I ball my hands into fists and chew on my lower lips. “We got the same answer from Mayor Harrington.” Defeat builds in my stomach. “If we can convince the County Council to reject the budget, will you propose a new budget where the library stays open?”
He looks at me for a long time. The clock on the wall ticks, and we just stare at each other.
Finally, he says, “It’s not that I don’t want to.
But it’s going to be really hard.” He gestures to a binder nearby.
“If I keep the library, then I have to cut something else. We could cut from the fire department.” He grabs the binder and starts flipping through it.
I peer over the desk and spy charts and spreadsheets.
“But what if there’s a major fire? We won’t have enough firefighters and then have to asks Howard to help us. ” He makes a face. “I hate those guys.”
I swallow but don’t say anything. Fighting the bile, I wonder if perhaps I was wrong in coming here, not only is it a waste of time, but I’m losing faith that keeping the library open is possible.
Stephen looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “This process is so difficult. We spend months analyzing and reviewing past budgets. I’ve got a whole team of budget specialists. They know what they’re doing and we don’t make mistakes.”
My gaze travels around the practically brand-new office and the breathtaking view. “What about the office? Could renovations wait a year in order for the budget crisis to fix itself?”
He chuckles. “Charlotte, I feel guilty saying this, but we shouldn’t even be in here.
There’s asbestos, and mold, and probably all sorts of horrible chemicals that we shouldn’t be breathing.
The renovations are necessary for the safety of the workers.
I’m trying to get the building department to declare this facility as condemned so we can move temporarily into another building. ”
“Oh,” I reply. “If we shouldn’t be sitting in here, why’d you meet me here?”
“I have to use this office until I can get this building condemned.” He flashes one of those “what are you gonna do” looks.
“There’s a lot of red tape I have to follow.
” He flips through the pages of the binder again.
“We might be able to cut the budget from one of the high schools. There’s at least one that will soon break ground on a new renovation that can wait a few years. ”
Guilt washes through me.
Am I wrong to want to keep the library open?
I watch as he flips through the pages in the binder, hiding the inner turmoil in my mind.
Even if the council rejects his budget, there’s no guarantee that the library will stay open. There are so many other areas and projects that need money. Will our small-town library just be forgotten amid the sea of squeaky wheels?
He looks up and studies me for a few seconds. “Are you ok, Charlotte?” Stephen asks in a gentle voice, breaking my thoughts.
I nod. “Yes. I just didn’t realize just how complicated this all is.”
He leans back in his chair and flashes a toothy grin.
“Yeah. It is pretty difficult. There are so many things that you have to consider, and of course, everyone has their own agenda. But I learned a lot about budgeting when I worked in the Governor’s office, and I’m pretty good at it.
They called me, the ‘Budgetser’.” He rises from his chair and guides me to my feet with his hand on my elbow.
“Well, Charlotte, it was really nice catching up,” he says with that honey slick voice. “But I’ve got another meeting right in,” he checks his watch, “five minutes. I’ve gotta run. Thanks for stopping by! Say hi to your parents for me. Tell your dad I still think about his class!”
The door closes behind me, and I’m left alone in the lobby.
That fake ocean candle scent burns in the back of my throat.
A foreboding sense of failure and guilt settles over me.
I thought this was my shot to leverage a connection that could save the library without a long, potentially drawn-out fight, and it’s a dead end.
Taking a deep breath, I adjust my purse on my shoulder and mentally decide which flavor of ice cream I’m going to pick up on the way home for my wallow session.
I’ll be strong tomorrow, but today, I will feel sorry for myself.
Once I get into my car and away from the overpowering smell of jasmine, I replay the conversation in my mind and think about what was said, specifically what Stephen said. After a few minutes of feeling the air through my vents shift from hot to cool, something clicks in my mind.
“Did I fuck this up?” I ask my stuffed dragon sitting in the little cubby hole of my car’s center console. I call him Tairn, after the dragon from Fourth Wing, while Nicole calls him Leonard.
Tairn doesn’t respond. For the umpteenth time, I wish he was real.
“Motherfucker,” I scream and slam my fist against the steering wheel. A fire breathing dragon would solve most of my problems.
He didn’t even know that my dad died.
My mind keeps churning. What if Stephen Gott kept on deflecting and talking in circles because he either doesn’t care or worse, doesn’t want to keep the library open?
It seems weird that he was so adamant about renovating those stunning offices.
But then, what do I know about buildings?
Perhaps there is some mold or gross stuff underneath the carpets and in the walls.
Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that the Save The Library Committee has its work cut out.