“There’s no dirty work,” she assured him, trying not to sound stiff. The only dirty work she’d ever been involved in had been because of Martin, unintentional on her part or not, and she didn’t appreciate hearing the term now. “I was in the diner this afternoon and missed your company.”
He made a soft sort of snort. “You wanted to convince me to show up for the dog and pony soiree—” the word dripped with scorn “—that the rest of my council brethren have been suckered into attending.”
“I don’t think Vivian plans a dog and pony show,” Nell countered mildly. “She’s only interested in smoothing the way for a new public library. Do you have grandchildren in this community, Squire?”
“Not as smart as you look if you don’t already know the answer to that.”
He was right. She should have done more homework where he was concerned. As it was, she’d felt a little sideswiped by the impressiveness of his ranch. “A new library only benefits Weaver and the surrounding region. Do you really disagree with that?”
“Only thing I disagree with is the woman you’re working for. She doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive.”
“I think that could be said of most anyone,” Nell pointed out. “In my experience, people’s actions almost always have a deeper motive than what is first apparent.” She waited a beat, but he didn’t reply. Nor did he hang up on her, which she chose to take as encouragement. “I’m no different,” she continued. “The first time we met, I could have told you that I’d been hired by Mrs. Templeton. But I knew there was dissension between you when it comes to the library—”
“Not just the library, girl.”
She hadn’t done her research, so she let that pass, too. “And I was enjoying your company too much to want it ruined. I also realized that if you could get to know me a little before painting me the same color as you’ve painted her, perhaps you would also have a more open mind when it comes to bringing something really important to this town. You see? Deeper motive.”
“Don’t have to tell me what’s important to this town, either. Been here a hell of a lot longer than she has.”
“Yet another reason why it’s so important that you exercise your support for it. Do you really think the existing library is adequate?”
He didn’t answer that. “Is she going to fire you if you don’t get me there tomorrow night?”
Nell winced. She ought to have been prepared for such bluntness. “I certainly hope not. I need the paycheck,” she admitted, just as bluntly. Vivian had never mentioned Squire by name. She’d just said she wanted the council there. “But no. I don’t feel like it’s her intention to hang me out to dry.”
“Pays to be cautious where you put your trust, girl.”
How well she knew that, too. “And sometimes it pays to go out on a limb despite one’s caution,” Nell countered. She felt guilt fire in her face, because what limb had she ever gone out on? “Particularly when so many others will benefit as a result.”
Her little speech was met with silence and she squelched a sigh. “I’m well aware that I’m the new kid on the block, Mr. Clay, and that it’s not my place to shower you with platitudes. So let’s just leave it that I am glad you enjoyed the sandwich. And I hope one day, I’ll share the lunch counter again with you at Ruby’s.” She didn’t wait for a response that she was certain wouldn’t be forthcoming anyway, and hung up the phone.
She flipped open her notebook to her checklist and eyed the two incomplete tasks.
She’d struck out on Squire Clay.
That left acquiring a cocktail dress that Vivian Templeton would deem appropriate.
She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, then closed her binder again, took it and her purse and cautiously snuck down the staircase so that Montrose with his bat-like hearing didn’t notice.
Weaver’s current and only library was located in Old Weaver.
That evening, Nell found it easily enough and entered through the swinging glass door. It was the only fairly modern element that the structure possessed. Aside from that, the two-story structure just looked like an old, vaguely Victorian house. Considering she’d been in Weaver nearly a week, she should have done more than just drive by it by now.
Inside, she passed the circulation desk. The teenage boy manning it was engrossed in a thick novel and didn’t even look up at her.
That was okay. She wasn’t there to check out any materials. She wasn’t even there to judge for herself whether the facility was too out of date for the town. The reason she was there was to escape the noise coming from the motel room next to hers while she worked on the Swift Oil grant application.
At the motel, Gardner’s car had been gone, meaning that she was working the evening shift at Udder Huddle. Her three boys had been left to stay in the motel room where they’d been in fine form, whooping and hollering over the video game they’d been playing.
The noise had been clear through the walls. They hadn’t been misbehaving. They hadn’t been fighting. There’d been no reason for her to try to squelch their natural exuberance just because she’d found it difficult to concentrate.
Now that she was in the library, though, Nell couldn’t stop herself from wandering the aisles, pulling out a book here and there. Paging through it. Lifting the book close to her face and just inhaling the smell of the pages.
She loved that smell.
It always reminded her of her mother.
However, she had a task to complete and wandering among the stacks wasn’t going to get it done.
There were only two study desks that she found, and one had bright yellow caution tape strapped all over it because of a broken leg.
Fortunately, the
