high-ceilinged room. “What can I do for you?”
“I can wait until you get your coat off and your things settled.”
“I’ll be wearing my coat for the next few minutes,” she said, still amused. “I’m sorry it’s so cold. The windows are original and leak heat like a sieve. It’s not an ideal environment for books. How can I help you?”
Her alert, interested gaze was both disconcerting and compelling. “I need books on giving a speech,” he said.
The promise of a day with Marissa, vulnerable and tough all at once, couldn’t fully distract him from the upcoming wedding. Online he’d found some simple formulas to construct a best man’s speech, but he wanted something to help him organize his thoughts before he planned what to say.
With a brisk nod she led him into the double rows of shelves that ran the length of the single room and stopped in the eight hundreds. Deftly she sectioned off a cluster of books and set them on top of the shelves. “We don’t have a very large selection, I’m afraid,” she said. “Most of the budget for new books goes to popular fiction and periodicals, but the high school library might have a more recent selection. As a graduate you can continue to check out books there. I can also order books from other libraries around the country. You’ll have to pay the shipping costs and it takes a couple of weeks for them to arrive.”
A return trip to the high school didn’t appeal, and he didn’t have a couple of weeks to wait for better books to arrive, but after twelve years in the Marines, he knew how to make do. He scanned the titles and recognized a couple his online research indicated were classics. “I’ll take these two,” he said.
Alana reshelved the others and led him back to the desk. He looked around at the high ceilings, the white columns beside the doors, the marble flooring. The ceiling itself was recessed paneled wood. “The building needs some work,” he commented.
“It does,” she agreed. “These old Carnegie libraries are fast-crumbling national treasures, in my opinion, with rural tax bases shrinking as they are.” She looked up at him, then added, “The town council’s considering how best to upgrade the building and the technology. Marissa’s skills would come in handy if they decide to go ahead.”
“She won’t be the front-runner to get the job,” Adam said. He knew how Walkers Ford worked. The front-runner was probably Chuck Matterly, a prominent builder on the school board who’d put up a couple of cookie cutter subdivisions around the county.
Alana’s smile disappeared. “I don’t suppose you still have your library card?”
He’d never had a public library card in Walkers Ford. “No, ma’am,” he said.
“Then let’s get you set up with one.” She powered up her computer and looked up at him expectantly. “I need something that proves you’re a resident of Walkers Ford or Chatham County. A rental agreement, a utility bill, or a phone bill will do,” she said.
Invisible chains tying him to the community wouldn’t count. “I’m staying with my mother until I get a place of my own.”
“Driver’s license?” she said without batting an eye.
He pulled the card from his wallet and offered it to her. She transcribed the information into the computer, then began the process of checking out the books. “Due three weeks from today, but late fees aren’t onerous, still a nickel a day. Don’t make me hunt you down to get them back.”
Three weeks from today Delaney would be married and on her honeymoon, and he’d be setting up residence in Brookings. “Understood,” he said. “Thanks.”
He was halfway to the door before her next question stopped him. “Will you see Marissa again soon?”
“Yes,” he said. As soon as he got to Brookhaven. Less than twenty minutes until he saw Marissa again.
Alana opened a drawer, removed a box cutter, sliced open the boxes, but didn’t remove the contents. “How well do
“I can wait until you get your coat off and your things settled.”
“I’ll be wearing my coat for the next few minutes,” she said, still amused. “I’m sorry it’s so cold. The windows are original and leak heat like a sieve. It’s not an ideal environment for books. How can I help you?”
Her alert, interested gaze was both disconcerting and compelling. “I need books on giving a speech,” he said.
The promise of a day with Marissa, vulnerable and tough all at once, couldn’t fully distract him from the upcoming wedding. Online he’d found some simple formulas to construct a best man’s speech, but he wanted something to help him organize his thoughts before he planned what to say.
With a brisk nod she led him into the double rows of shelves that ran the length of the single room and stopped in the eight hundreds. Deftly she sectioned off a cluster of books and set them on top of the shelves. “We don’t have a very large selection, I’m afraid,” she said. “Most of the budget for new books goes to popular fiction and periodicals, but the high school library might have a more recent selection. As a graduate you can continue to check out books there. I can also order books from other libraries around the country. You’ll have to pay the shipping costs and it takes a couple of weeks for them to arrive.”
A return trip to the high school didn’t appeal, and he didn’t have a couple of weeks to wait for better books to arrive, but after twelve years in the Marines, he knew how to make do. He scanned the titles and recognized a couple his online research indicated were classics. “I’ll take these two,” he said.
Alana reshelved the others and led him back to the desk. He looked around at the high ceilings, the white columns beside the doors, the marble flooring. The ceiling itself was recessed paneled wood. “The building needs some work,” he commented.
“It does,” she agreed. “These old Carnegie libraries are fast-crumbling national treasures, in my opinion, with rural tax bases shrinking as they are.” She looked up at him, then added, “The town council’s considering how best to upgrade the building and the technology. Marissa’s skills would come in handy if they decide to go ahead.”
“She won’t be the front-runner to get the job,” Adam said. He knew how Walkers Ford worked. The front-runner was probably Chuck Matterly, a prominent builder on the school board who’d put up a couple of cookie cutter subdivisions around the county.
Alana’s smile disappeared. “I don’t suppose you still have your library card?”
He’d never had a public library card in Walkers Ford. “No, ma’am,” he said.
“Then let’s get you set up with one.” She powered up her computer and looked up at him expectantly. “I need something that proves you’re a resident of Walkers Ford or Chatham County. A rental agreement, a utility bill, or a phone bill will do,” she said.
Invisible chains tying him to the community wouldn’t count. “I’m staying with my mother until I get a place of my own.”
“Driver’s license?” she said without batting an eye.
He pulled the card from his wallet and offered it to her. She transcribed the information into the computer, then began the process of checking out the books. “Due three weeks from today, but late fees aren’t onerous, still a nickel a day. Don’t make me hunt you down to get them back.”
Three weeks from today Delaney would be married and on her honeymoon, and he’d be setting up residence in Brookings. “Understood,” he said. “Thanks.”
He was halfway to the door before her next question stopped him. “Will you see Marissa again soon?”
“Yes,” he said. As soon as he got to Brookhaven. Less than twenty minutes until he saw Marissa again.
Alana opened a drawer, removed a box cutter, sliced open the boxes, but didn’t remove the contents. “How well do
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