The Notorious Groom

“So it would seem. On the other hand, there was no reason for him to stay. Not after his uncle threw him out.”

“Be that as it may, it hardly speaks well of his character that he returned to Kisscount without a wife but with a child.”

Norah couldn’t help it, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” she said quietly. “These days, so many men simply walk away from their responsibilities. I think it’s...admirable that Elijah has his daughter with him. It can’t be easy for him, even though Chelsea is a wonderful little girl. And she adores him, so he must be doing something right.”

The old man’s face softened. “You’re too kindhearted by far, my dear.”

“Oh, no. Not really.” Embarrassed that she’d revealed such intimate feelings, she glanced at her watch. “Oh, my, look at the time. I really should get back to the library.”

“Very well.” Mr. Lampley cleared his throat. “However, I would like to say that I know the next few weeks won’t be easy for you. If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Norah summoned a smile. “Thank you. But you’ve already done so much. Unless...” She bit her lip, wondering if she dared to ask.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering...that is...” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you could call Security-TrustCo Insurance and see if anything can be done to expedite the Wilders’ claim?”

He frowned. “Well, yes, of course I can. But are you sure? You certainly don’t owe it to Wilder, and it might take some tune, which could prove expensive.”

“That’s all right.” It wasn’t for Eli, she told herself. It was for Chelsea. But Norah didn’t explain, unwilling to reveal her private fear that she’d gotten the child in trouble by telling Eli that they’d talked. She knew how angry her grandfather would have been if she’d ever confided family business to an outsider; she would have been confined to her room for months.

And she was painfully aware that Chelsea hadn’t been to the library for summer reading sessions since she had been to see Eli last week.

Norah swallowed. As much as she dreaded the idea, she’d already decided that after work she’d go apologize to Eli—and Chelsea—for putting them in such an awkward position. Her request to Mr. Lampley was simply another way to make amends.

“Very well. Is that all?” the attorney said, interrupting her troubled thoughts.

“Actually, I...I would prefer to remain anonymous, if that’s possible.”

The attorney gave her a searching look, then nodded. “Very well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lampley.”

The old man nodded, they said their goodbyes, and minutes later Norah found herself out on the sidewalk in the bright afternoon sunshine.

Despite her philosophical words to Mr. Lampley, her heart was heavy as she set off on the three-block walk to the library. She took no pleasure from the bright awnings and cheerful window displays that were the hallmark of Kisscount’s cozy downtown area. Instead, as she walked along the tree-lined street, her attention was focused inward, on her own uncertain future.

She would just have to be brave for a change, she told herself sternly, as she considered leaving Willow Run. People moved all the time, and not just to a different house in a different neighborhood, but to new cities and states and even countries. And though many probably did it because they wanted to, an equal number no doubt did it because they had no choice. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she ought to be grateful that she had a good job and didn’t have to worry about money.

Besides, this might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. Perhaps being torn away from her comfort zone would force her to become more like the bold, self-reliant heroines in the books she adored. Maybe she would finally be able to become the woman she longed to be deep down inside: kind but confident, not afraid to stand up for what she believed in, the sort of woman who wasn’t afraid to wear red, or take vacations alone, who had a man’s name tattooed on her thigh, who lived instead of merely existing—

Reason returned with a crash as she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. Her gaze went from her severe hairstyle, to her skinny body in its demure, calf-length dress, cotton anklets and sensible tennis shoes.

She sighed. Who was she kidding? A tattoo? Not likely.

She resumed walking, surprised to realize that she was almost at the library, a large single-story building on the edge of the downtown business district. Although done in post-Modernist style, with low, angled walls and vast expanses of glass, the interior was surprisingly homey, with many unexpected nooks and crannies.

It was not the library’s architecture that endeared it to Norah, however; it was the central role it had played in her life for almost as long as she could remember. As the only place other than school where her grandfather had allowed her to hang out, she’d spent hours here as a child. Happily for her, she’d loved to read, and the books she found had opened up an entire new world of ideas and adventures

She stooped to pick up a candy wrapper that someone had tossed in the flower bed, then rose and pulled open the heavy glass door, feeling a sense of homecoming as she was enveloped in the familiar hush.

Andrea Rand, the young blonde who had taken over for the summer while Norah’s regular assistant librarian was on maternity leave, looked up from the fashion magazine she was reading. “Thank goodness. You’re back.”

Norah swallowed a sigh as she saw the other woman’s mournful expression. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s just so dead today.” Andrea gave a sigh. “Nobody wants to be in here when they can go to the pool or he in the sun or do something fun.”

“Nobody” clearly included Andrea, Norah realized as she came around the end of the counter and saw the pile of books the other woman had haphazardly tossed on the return cart. Not for the first time, she wondered what on earth had possessed Andrea to apply for the job when she was so obviously unsuited for it.

“Now that you’re finally back, it seems silly for both of us to be here,” the blonde went on. “It’s certainly not as if we’re overwhelmed with customers. And the thing is...” She dredged up an ingratiating smile. “Don called, and we made plans to celebrate the two-week anniversary of our first date tonight. So I was really hoping I could leave a little early so I’d have time to stop by McGuire’s and see if I could find a new dress....”

Norah thought guiltily about the stack of paperwork waiting for her in her office. “How early?”

“Well, actually, I thought I’d leave now. You don’t mind, do you?”

Norah knew she should. After all, Andrea had already left early eight times in the past two weeks, leaving Norah with enough work for...well, for two people.

“What about the returns?” Shelving them was supposed to be one of Andrea’s daily duties.

The blonde gave a sad little sigh. “My wrist hurts. That’s another reason I ought to leave. I’m sure you wouldn’t want it to get worse.”

Norah knew she should put an end to this conversation right now. Yet she really wasn’t in the mood to endure an entire afternoon of Andrea moping, which was what would happen if she said no. And the library was her responsibility ..

Coward

“How about if you left in about an hour? That way, I could get some work done on the budget—”

“Oh, pooh. Can’t you work on it at home tonight? I mean, it’s not as if you’re likely to have a hot date or anything.”

Although Norah was sure Andrea didn’t mean to be cruel, her thoughtless words stung. She swallowed. “Well, yes, that’s true—”

“Great!” In her first show of energy since Norah had arrived, the younger woman snatched up her purse, bounded around the end of the counter and bolted for the door. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Oh, but—”

“By the way, Mrs. Carpenter called about the library fund-raiser. She said to tell you they’ve finally settled on a date—August first—and she’s looking forward to seeing you.” With that, Andrea yanked open one of the heavy doors as if it weighed nothing, bolted through the opening and disappeared from sight.

Norah’s shoulders drooped as Andrea’s last shot hit its mark. Could it possibly be time for another library fund-raiser? She gave a little shiver. It was the one part of her job—other than dealing with difficult assistants—that she disliked. Not only because she never seemed to know what to wear, or what to do with her hair, or even how to let loose enough to drink a glass of champagne, but because she always seemed to wind up either standing alone in a corner drinking punch, or listening politely to someone else talk, afraid to offer her opinion. As for taking a turn on the dance floor—forget it.

Still, her presence was expected, and the fund-raiser was some time away. And when compared to losing Willow Run, it did seem like a minor inconvenience.

Sighing, she went to get her paperwork from the office.

At least Andrea had been right about one thing. It was quiet Over the next hour, only a handful of people came in, and Norah was able to get a surprising amount of work done. By the time she finally looked at her watch, she was surprised to see that it was only half an hour to closing time.

She stretched, then set about organizing the day’s returns, knowing she would feel better if the books were back on the shelves when she came in tomorrow morning.

Twenty minutes later she had only two books left on the cart. Both belonged in the travel section, so she picked them up and walked to the appropriate aisle, snagged a rolling stool and climbed up. She was just sliding the volumes into place when a low, familiar voice sounded close behind her.