Chapter 14
‘Dank’ wasn’t the right word for the library basement, because it was climate controlled, but of all the words that Keely could think of, that one came closest to describing how she felt about the place.
The walls were cement gray, the fluorescent lighting was harsh, and being underground gave her an itchy, unsettled feeling. She had never felt in danger of relapse since moving to Pelican Point, but too many hours in the library basement sure seemed to push her in that direction.
She loved books. She’d thought that she would love working with books… but packaging books, printing shipping labels for other library branches, and wrapping new books in crinkly plastic were all activities that made her want to pull her hair out after about five minutes.
Eventually, she discovered that playing an audiobook while she did menial tasks kept her sane, at least for a while. Sometimes she would call her parents and catch up while she went through putting stickers in new books. Or she would talk to her sponsor as she sorted through a box of donations. Today, she was listening to a podcast about baking while intermittently texting with Travis.
She wondered if she was letting him off too easy, if she should’ve pressed for more answers when he apologized, but she knew plenty about keeping trauma close to the chest. She figured that, whatever was going on with him, he would tell her when and if he was ready. Pushing him wouldn’t help anything. It felt a bit strange to be texting with him again, but not a bad kind of strange. Each new message set off butterflies in her stomach, and she tried to just enjoy the sensation instead of overanalyzing it.
Finally, finally, she finished the menial tasks that she had been assigned and hefted a box of books in both arms to carry them back up the stairs and into the library.
”Done already?” Melissa asked.
”Yep, just need to shelve them.”
”You rock. After you do that, would you come man the desk?”
”For sure.” She put the books on a cart and wheeled them off through the shelves.
Shelving books was a task that she actually enjoyed. The only problem there was keeping herself from getting lost in the stacks and spending her working hours looking through the books instead of actually working.
Although, she mused as she took yet another cookbook off the shelf, wasn’t familiarizing herself with as many books as possible part of her job?
By the time she had finished shelving the new books, she had gathered a stack of seven that she wanted to check out and take home. It would go nicely with the tower of nine that she already had next to her bed.
She was much happier at the front desk than in the basement. She enjoyed chatting with patrons (most of the time) and scanning their books. When things slowed down and she had nothing else to do, she opened up one of the cookbooks that she had pulled from the library shelves. She was still looking for inspiration for the event that she had agreed to cater for Sunday and Guillermo. She wanted to make something truly astonishing, but she wasn’t sure what.
She was quick to close the book when the library door opened. When she looked up to see Travis walking toward her, her heart sped.
”Hey,” he greeted her.
He wore the boyish smile that she had missed. He still wasn’t back to who he had been in Rocky Hill, or even a few months before… and maybe he never would be. Maybe that was a part of growing up. She certainly wasn’t the same person she had been at any point in her past.
But whoever he was now, she wanted to get to know him better.
”Hey,” she echoed.
”The library closes in a few minutes, right?”
“Yeah, it’s about time to lock up.”
“Cool.” His smile turned shy, which only made his handsome face more endearing. “I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner with me.”
She felt her cheeks color, and she looked down at the decades-old cookbook that she had been perusing. With effort, she looked back up into his eyes.
”I’d like that,” she said quietly, “but I have an hour of cleanup and closing stuff to do. And after that, there’s a book club meeting.”
”Well, I can’t compete with book club,” he teased.
”It’s my first one, and I promised Ali that I would come. And it was a really good book.”
”How about tomorrow?”
”Tomorrow’s good.”
”Pick you up at six?”
She smiled at him, not even caring that her cheeks were flaming. ”Sure. Sounds good.”
”Okay.” He took a few steps backward, like he was reluctant to take his eyes off of her. And then he grinned, winked, and walked out of the library.
As soon as the library door closed behind him, a chorus of ooohs sounded behind her. She spun around to see Ali, Maria, and Melissa all watching her from behind one of the shelves.
”Were you spying on me?” she exclaimed.
”We were trying to do our jobs,” Melissa said, ”but we didn’t want to interrupt whatever that was.”
”He is cute,” Maria added.
Keely covered her pink cheeks with both hands and looked away.
”Come on,” Ali said, ”let’s lock up and get ready for book club.”
They went through their usual closing tasks and then pulled together a circle of chairs in the anteroom that was mostly used for afternoon art projects for kids. They unlocked the doors again a few minutes before book club was due to start, and locals poured through with snacks and drinks. While food and liquids weren’t allowed in the library, an exception was made for the anteroom. There were no library books in there, just work space and art supplies.
The book club was composed of women of every age and even a few men. The book of the week had been Women’s Fiction, whatever that meant, and Keely was surprised to find that the men had enjoyed it just as much as the women.
”I lost my wife a few years ago,” one of the older men said, “so I could really identify with what Emma was going through.”
”My heart just broke for her,” someone else put in.
“I was really impressed with the depth of the characters,” another man said. “The women, the kids, even the dog. Did anyone else notice how the dog kept escaping but kept coming back, and then came back for good once it was rescued by its family? It was like it paralleled Lani’s narrative.”
Across the circle, a young woman made a sound of frustration. “Not this again.”
“What now?” he asked irritably.
“Sometimes a dog is just a dog.”
“Novels are deeper than that! Things have meaning!”
“Or they’re plot devices. They move things forward or support character development. It’s not all symbolism. Not everything had to mean something else!”
“You’re just bitter about the door in the haunted mansion back in December.”
“Sometimes a door is just a door, Craig!”
Keely laughed and tuned out as they argued about another book club book that she hadn’t read. She looked down at the copy of this week’s book that she held in her lap, enjoying the discussion but feeling too shy to say anything herself. It was enough just to be there, surrounded by people talking about her latest read. It was enough to feel a part of things. More than that, to feel a part of something wholesome and healing.
“Can we get back to Big Island Sunrise?” Ali asked at last.
“Yes, please!” someone else put in. “We’re sick of hearing the same argument.”
“It’s not just a door,” Craig muttered under his breath.
”Okay,” one of the younger women said over him, ”is anyone else madly in love with Alfred Lord Tennyson Nakamura?”
”Me!” shouted someone on the other side of the circle. There was a wave of laughter as nearly every hand shot up—basically all of the women and one of the men as well.
”Oh my goodness, he is my favorite book boyfriend ever.”
”Zero red flags,” another woman said.
”Wasn’t that refreshing? It was amazing to have a male lead that was so wholesome and trustworthy.”
”Too bad those men only exist in books.”
”Hey! That’s not true. I found one in real life.”
”Well, you’re one of the lucky ones.”
”I’m just saying, they do exist.”
The conversation wandered through the book they had just read and its tropical setting to books that they had read in the past and the one that was scheduled for the following week. Finally, when people were on their feet and chatting about local gossip instead of books, Keely slipped out and walked home.
Her phone had been on silent through the book club meeting, and when she stepped outside and turned it back on, she was surprised to find a text message from Sunday asking her to call.
A heavy dread dropped into her gut, and she felt certain that Sunday had decided to go with a professional caterer instead. She took a shaky breath and called her back.
”Keely!” Sunday’s voice was as bright and musical as ever. ”How are you?”
”I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”
“I am well, I am well. Keely, I am calling because Guillermo had a request for the event this weekend.”
“Yes?”
“He recalled that his mother’s favorite dessert growing up was lemon meringue pie.”
“Gotcha. So you want me to make that for the event?”
“Not exactly. He does not want a pie, but rather something that can be served to each person. And he specifically said that it should not be tiny pies, but rather something you would see in a fine dining restaurant. It is difficult for his mother to leave the house, you see, and I think he is wanting to bring the fine dining experience to her and the family. What do you think?”
“Sure,” she said reflexively. She was worried that she was getting in over her head, but simmering alongside that anxiety was a more positive kind of excitement. She was up to the challenge; she knew she was.
“So that will be appetizers, a light meal, and an extraordinary desert. There are only eight of us. Will one thousand dollars be enough, do you think?”
Keely stumbled but managed not to fall flat on her face. It took her a moment to regain her voice and say, “Yes. That’s more than enough.”
“Thank you, my dear. I know you will think of something spectacular.”
“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
“I know.”
The call disconnected, and Keely dropped her phone into her bookbag with shaking hands.
She had two days to come up with and create a spectacular variation of a lemon meringue pie… and the rest of the meal. And a date with Travis tomorrow.
“I’d better get cooking,” she murmured, and then laughed. Life was good. Life was really, really good.
She headed home at a run.