Chapter 13
The Fellowship
The email arrived during lunch.
Lucy almost deleted it because the subject line looked promotional.
Then she saw the sender.
New York Public Library Foundation.
Her stomach dropped.
Three months earlier, Priya had convinced her to apply for the Emerson Urban Literacy Fellowship, a one-year program for librarians developing citywide children's reading initiatives. Lucy had applied at midnight after two glasses of wine and immediately decided it was unrealistic.
Now they wanted to interview her.
In New York.
Lucy read the email twice.
Then a third time.
"Why do you look like someone just offered you a kidney?" Priya asked.
Lucy turned the screen.
Priya screamed.
Half the library looked over.
"Quiet building," Lucy hissed.
"This is not a quiet-building moment."
"It's only an interview."
"For the Emerson Fellowship."
Lucy minimized the email.
"I know what it's for."
Priya leaned both hands on the desk.
"You have wanted a program like this for years."
Lucy knew.
The fellowship would mean access to funding, training, and a network of librarians across the Northeast. It would also mean spending most weekdays in New York for ten months.
A year ago, the thought would have thrilled her without complication.
Now Ben was in the courtyard teaching two teenagers how to safely hang lights.
Lucy hated the timing.
She hated herself more for hating the timing.
"When is the interview?" Priya asked.
"Next Thursday."
"You're going."
"I haven't decided."
"Yes, you have."
Lucy looked at her.
Priya's expression softened.
"You can want something even if it makes other things complicated."
"There are no other things."
Priya looked toward the courtyard.
Lucy followed her gaze.
Ben was laughing at something one of the volunteers said.
"Right," Priya said.
That evening, Lucy did not tell Ben.
She told herself there was nothing to tell.
An interview was not an offer.
A possibility was not a decision.
But when Ben handed her a coffee and said, "You seem quiet," Lucy felt the omission immediately.
"Long day," she said.
He nodded.
He did not push.
That almost made it worse.