Chapter 9
9
F resh from his morning run, Bennett slowed outside Java Beach, taking in the scene. The intricate mural on Libby’s bookmobile shimmered in the morning sun. But that wasn’t what caught his attention.
He wiped his brow with the edge of his “Life is Better in Summer Beach” T-shirt, surprised to find a line of people snaking around the vehicle. The bookmobile hadn’t been there when he left for his run an hour ago.
Word had spread fast.
A festive atmosphere filled the air. Elderly couples with canvas tote bags chatted excitedly while young mothers bounced toddlers on their hips. A group of teenage boys Bennett would have sworn never voluntarily picked up books, leaned against a nearby wall, trying to look cool while waiting their turn.
A group of girls watched them, giggling.
Bennett grinned at the scene. Each time someone emerged from the bookmobile, arms laden with books and faces bright with anticipation, the line would move forward, and the next eager patron stepped inside.
He couldn’t recall ever seeing anything like this in Summer Beach.
Bennett watched as Mrs. Hammons, his former sixth-grade teacher, descended the steps clutching a stack of mystery novels like a treasure.
Spying him, she waved him over. “Have you been inside yet? It’s marvelous. She even had a new book I’ve been dying to read.”
“Not yet.” Bennett nodded toward the line. “Looks like half the town beat me to it.”
“It’s worth the wait, dear. When was the last time you read a book?”
He smiled at the question. “I’m usually reading budgets and resident requests.”
“Then you should check out a book.” Mrs. Hammons spoke as if assigning homework.
“Yes, ma’am. I believe I will. If there are any left.”
Mitch emerged from the open door to Java Beach with a tray of iced coffees. His brother-in-law looked harried but pleased. “Hey, Mr. Mayor. How about one of my new spring specials? It’s on the house.”
Bennett accepted gratefully. “Thanks. Looks like you have a crowd.”
“This bookmobile is the best thing that’s happened to this street in months,” Mitch said, distributing the remaining drinks to waiting customers. “Every table inside is taken. I called in Cassandra for an extra shift.”
Bennett noticed that Jen from Nailed It next door had set up bistro tables and chairs outside her hardware store. Several patrons sat there, engrossed in their books while nursing coffees and pastries. Some had the hardware store’s shopping bags beside them.
Mitch had also followed suit, transforming his side of the sidewalk into an impromptu outdoor cafe.
“Smart move with the seating,” Bennett said. “Did you get city approval for that?”
Mitch’s eyes widened. “Dude, come on. Really?”
Bennett chuckled. “Approved. It creates a nice ambiance.”
“I can’t take the credit,” Mitch said, visibly relieved. “It was Jen’s idea to put out tables and make it a party.”
As if summoned, Jen appeared with her husband, George. They both wore jeans and T-shirts emblazoned with the Nailed It logo.
Jen smiled at Bennett. “Isn’t this fantastic? The foot traffic has exploded.”
“It’s been a good morning.” George gestured to the display furniture where red “sold” tags fluttered in the breeze. “We’ve already sold two patio furniture sets.”
“And it’s still early,” Jen added, practically bouncing with energy. “Who knew books could be such good business?”
Bennett glanced toward the bookmobile, catching a glimpse of Libby through the side window. She was in her element, animated and dressed in what looked like a vintage-style dress patterned with tiny books. She spotted him and waved before turning back to a woman.
“The bookmobile is sure popular.” Bennett stroked his stubbled jaw. “How did people know to show up?”
Grinning, Mitch explained, “As soon as I saw Libby pull up, I posted on social media. She’s camera shy, so I took photos of the books and the bookmobile.”
Jen folded her arms. “I guess she’s one of those who doesn’t want her photo taken. But those posts are getting a ton of engagement.”
Bennett found that curious because most young people of Libby’s age posted plenty online.
Just then, another familiar couple approached. Nan waved, her short red curls gleaming in the sunlight.
“We haven’t seen this much activity on a Saturday morning since Christmas,” Arthur commented, surveying the scene with evident pleasure.
“We had to check it out,” Nan said. She clutched a vintage cookbook she’d apparently just acquired from the bookmobile.
“When we saw the queue forming, we opened our shop early,” Arthur said. “A gentleman who came for the bookmobile wandered in and bought a fine set of vintage Hemingway books.”
“Seems like a domino effect,” Bennett said thoughtfully. “The bookmobile generates more business for everyone.”
He watched as a young girl, no more than six, emerged from the vehicle clutching a picture book to her chest, her face radiant. Her father followed, carrying a stack of chapter books. “Daddy, can we come back next Saturday to get more?”
“We’ll have to return these books then,” the man replied. “After that, Miss Libby will be on her way to another town, so we can’t check out others.”
Bennett felt a twinge of regret as he saw the little girl’s face fall.
“Everyone loves a bookmobile,” Mitch said, following Bennett’s gaze. “Especially the kids. What a shame we can’t keep it here or offer something like that.”
“Not you, too?” Bennett drew a hand over his forehead.
“Just stating the obvious, man.”
A slim woman with a stylish silver-haired cut approached them. Bennett recognized Paige Wilson, owner of Pages Bookshop in the village.
“Good to see you here, Mr. Mayor.” She greeted him with a firm handshake. “Quite the literary festival we’re having.”
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bennett said. “Isn’t a bookmobile your competition?”
Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Not at all. Libraries create young readers, who then support my bookshop.” She gestured toward the children eagerly waiting in line. “Libraries expand readership, develop early reading habits, and improve grades. They set up kids for success. What a shame you couldn’t manage that library fiasco better.”
That comment hurt. Bennett hadn’t heard the budget issue called that, but he could see how residents might view it that way. “The city might reconsider filling the void in some way.”
Paige eyed him with suspicion. “If you’re ready to seriously discuss it, get in touch. I was sick then, but I’m feeling better and ready to serve on a fundraising committee now. It might take a few years to raise the money, but it’s the result that counts.”
“You make a good point,” Bennett said.
A weight settled on his shoulders. Ivy had tried to enlist help, but few volunteered. Or maybe people had the chance to miss the old library now.
“Look at them all.” Mitch watched another group of children skip toward the bookmobile. “I hope Daisy is as excited about books at that age.”
Bennett nodded, unable to deny the evidence before him. The energy in the village this morning was incredible. People were sharing stories and laughing. The bookmobile had brought the community together.
This is what Summer Beach had been missing since the library closed.
“I should get back to the inn,” he said, eager to find Ivy. “Good coffee, Mitch. Thanks.”
Bennett considered possibilities as he walked. Since Summer Beach couldn’t afford a library right now, a bookmobile might serve residents until it could. With some community support, it might work. It could be the first step, a bridge until they could rebuild.
He picked up his pace, energized by the idea of having a constructive conversation with Ivy about the library instead of another tense standoff. He’d told her he couldn’t manufacture funds in the budget.
Yet, a bookmobile could work in the interim. Historically, many small towns provided such services while raising funds through donations, taxes, grants, or bonds to support building a library.
Of course, Ivy had been right all along. The community needed this.