Chapter Seven

NAN DREADED HER first library board of trustees meeting, but the night came anyway. Pip Conti sat at the head of the table, of course. Since she’d started work, Nan had learned a bit about some of the others. Chuck Hornfeck was the hardware store owner with a PhD in philosophy—his degree was just for fun, he’d said; Nan loved him immediately. Sissy Saccomanni ran the town’s travel agency, was the wife of a town councilman, and was known for her extensive Scarves of the World collection. Paul Puddu was first cousin of the mayor and seemed to be crazy about his wife; he brought her up all the time, an endearing trait to Nan. The rest were assorted town residents (Toni Ann Baez, Martin Feliciano, Nefertiti Button), who simply cared about the library enough to agree to serve on the board.

Nan sat quietly while the board attended to their usual business of approving minutes, reviewing bills and expenditures, and setting a timeline for the budget to be submitted to the town council and the state library. She would have to make a budget for the very first time in her life. The terror of it all. She’d become a librarian because she loved books and libraries; what the hell did money have to do with any of that?

The night before, Nan had lain awake preparing what to say about the police reports. Should she bring them up? What would she say if they brought them up? The fact was that she was the one running the building, not the board. She was supposed to manage everything. The word manager had tormented her in the dark. How could she possibly manage a library all by herself when she couldn’t even manage her own life?

When the time for her report came, Nan struggled to sound calm and confident. She’d prepared a few remarks about her grant application to the state arts council, but she noticed them all clicking off when she started. They were clearly not interested in hearing about that as it was only a vague possibility at this stage, not a done deal.

Her right eye began to twitch so badly she could hardly see out of it.

“I understand you’ve been calling the police a lot,” Pip Conti said, interrupting her. “What’s the story?”

Nan’s face grew hot. She made eye contact with Chuck Hornfeck, who smiled encouragingly at her. Sissy Saccomanni patted her lap under the table. Nan took a deep breath. She felt a rush of love for them.

You gave me a chance. I won’t let you down.

“No story,” she said firmly. “We had a few minor incidents. I feel it’s best to work closely with our library liaison officer, don’t you? Hand in hand, we’ll smooth out any little troubles that come up.” She pictured holding hands with the beefy female officer and nearly laughed out loud.

Pip Conti scowled and closed his folder.

“I adore the new book displays.” Toni Ann Baez pointed to the front counter and nearby tables.

Bless you a thousand times for changing the subject.

Nan believed in book displays. Too many books crammed together on the shelves intimidated people. So she’d pulled books out and stood them up all over the place, with splashy colorful signs she made herself:

Books with Stupid Endings

Books the Library Shouldn’t Have Bought

Books You Can Live Without

Books with Red-haired People in Them

Books Where Evil is Rewarded

Books Where it Rains All the Time

Books to Read When You Are Mad at the World

Books Nobody Wants to Read

“My wife told me about them,” Paul Puddu said. “She thought they were a riot.”

Martin Feliciano hopped up and leaned over Books Nobody Wants to Read.

“Girl, you’re a little loopy, aren’t you?” Nefertiti Button elbowed her playfully. She picked up two books from the Books Where Evil is Rewarded pile to check out.

“Yes, I am, thank you for noticing.” When they all chuckled at Nan’s joke—even Pip the Moosehead—she could breathe again. Her eye stopped twitching. She had a reprieve and another month to get through before her elevation to the throne of Town Librarian.

*

AFTER THE BOARD members left, Nan stayed behind to pull out the files on previous library budgets, to get a head start on the baffling project. She had no idea on earth how to write a budget, let alone present one to the town council. Did it involve a Big Reveal, whisking a cover off a blown-up budget on an easel? What was the appropriate soundtrack? Should she practice an announcer voice (And now, for your viewing pleasure, I present to you THE LIBRARY BUDGET, TA DA)?

She did not want to do any of this hard stuff, she only wanted to do the fun librarian stuff—buying shiny new books, setting up cool displays, thinking up innovative programs that would be so popular people would line up around the block to get in.

There was no escaping the budget though. She had to produce one very soon, and she might as well get started. But she was so incredibly tired from her sleepless night and this long day full of troubles to get through.

I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute, that’s all.

She woke up to the sound of banging on the front door. Joe was out there, waving his hands at her. She unlocked the door and let him in.

“You didn’t come home,” he said.

This lovely man. No one had looked after her for a thousand years, it seemed. Her dad had died before her wild years when she stayed out late and drank vodka in cars with bad girls.

“I came to get you.” He crooked his elbow for her to hold on to in an old-fashioned gentlemanly manner as they descended the front steps. Her heart swelled at his sweetness.

They walked slowly down Main Street, Joe stopping occasionally to pick up a piece of litter or to try a shop door making sure it was locked. This was an old familiar routine, Nan recognized. At night, Joe owned this town.

He stopped in front of a mani-pedi salon, pointed to it. “Sammy’s Tailor Shop. Used to be right there.”

Nan remembered Sammy had been Immaculata’s father and Joe’s boss.

“Did you like working there?” she asked.

Joe laughed, a high-pitched giggle that surprised Nan. “That guy. He could talk your ear off. One-for-two sale. Go in for one suit, end up with two.”

“Was he a good boss?”

“He picked me.” Joe looked so proud. “I had nobody. Sixteen, all my relatives gone. I slept in the back room. He taught me. I was a good tailor.”

Nan wished she could say she was a good librarian. Not quite yet, but maybe someday. It must be wonderful to feel proud of yourself when you got old, to look back on your work like it meant something.

Joe pointed to a house that reminded her of an overstuffed chair, objects spilling out from inside to the wide porch and driveway. “Stumpy.”

“The house is stumpy?”

He laughed again. “Stumpy Locatore lives there. My friend. He has this red barn on his blueberry farm. All us old guys go there to eat when the sun comes up. We call it the café. He makes the best pepper and egg sandwiches. Oh boy.”

This man is living a beautiful life. This man is happy.

“You like dogs?” Joe asked.

Nan nodded. They had reached the street’s far end, where the big houses with gated lush front yards were. To her astonishment, on both sides of the street, dogs were waiting by their gates. They wagged their tails and grinned at Joe. None of them barked; they knew to stay silent. One by one, Joe unlocked their gates and let them out. Big hairy mutts, Rottweilers, beagle hunting dogs, German shepherds, little terriers, they all trotted alongside. They were a pack, and Joe was the leader. Nan felt like royalty.

Joe and the dogs walked her home and waited until she went in and closed the door. He and the pack disappeared into the night, headed toward the town lake. All she heard was the wind in the trees and the jangling of the dogs’ collars as they trotted away, flanking Joe like an honor guard.

She was home safe. That was a funny word for her to think of, home. She hadn’t felt at home anywhere in the world for a very long time.