Keep going. You’re doing fine.
“But the library is crucial to your community,” she said again. “We can talk about what Walkers Ford lacks: a movie theater, a bookstore, a hospital. Twenty percent of Chatham County’s residents live below the poverty line and lack access to computers, high-speed Internet, and information. I’d rather talk about what you have, and how to make the most of it. The library already arranges and provides space for free health screenings, but this service could easily be expanded, making the library a vibrant town square. A small investment in e-readers preloaded with books both introduces the technology to residents and reduces the investment in large-print books, as the fonts on e-readers can be adjusted to each reader’s preferences. Additionally, adding movie nights, reading groups, and more services for children of all ages will help even more.” She clicked through the bullet-point slides to Cody’s illustrations. “We can upgrade the computers, and renovate the unused rooms in the basement into meeting rooms that could be booked for business meetings or online classes. Universities around the world are making their classes available via the Internet. Information is now digital and accessible all over the world, but sorting through that information to separate fact from fiction requires a new learning process. The library can work with the school to develop and host technology training programs of all kinds.”
She clicked through to the last slide, Cody’s drawing of the library as the center of the town. A murmur ran through the crowd. “Cody Burton drew the illustrations and this mural. Young people see the library as vital to the community, as do I.”
She outlined a three-phase approach to implementing her suggestions and a cost/benefit analysis that had kept her up nights, and ended with another slide of Cody’s mural. “I think,” she said, then paused. This wasn’t part of the presentation. “I think you have something wonderful here. In an age of increasing disconnectedness, you have the resources and means to connect with the world beyond Chatham County, but more importantly, with each other. Thank you.”
She didn’t expect applause as she turned off her microphone, but it came anyway, too enthusiastic to be merely polite. To her surprise, people wanted to talk to her afterwards, make suggestions, offer opinions, thank her for her work. In the front row, Mrs. Battle fielded questions as well. Mayor Turner climbed the steps to the stage.
“Nicely done,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m a little surprised to hear you say it.”
He gave her a surprisingly impish grin. “This is a contrary bunch. Sometimes I have to be against something to build popular support for it. We do better if we think we’ve come up with the idea, not had our mayor cram it down our throats.”
“Well, it’s a beautiful building, and such an important part of the community.”
“I’ll get back to you about the proposal,” he said. “The council will meet and vote soon. Thank you for all your hard work.”
A generic brush-off she’d heard a hundred times before. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” she said.
She closed down her laptop and disconnected it from the projector. Lucas still stood by the parking lot exit. “Can I get a ride back to the library?” she asked. “I drove Mrs. Battle home in her car. If you’re busy, I can walk.”
“I’ll drive you,” he said. “When are you leaving?”
She blew out her breath. “Day after tomorrow, probably. It’s a nine-hour drive.”
He held the door open for her. “You’re not packed yet.”
“It won’t take long,” she said. “I learned to travel light before I was ten. It got much easier when I got an e-reader. I always packed more books than clothes, to my mother’s total despair.”
“Nice job with the presentation,” he said. “You made a library sound both necessary and really exciting.”
“Libraries are both necessary and really exciting,” she said. “To me anyway.”
He parked in the lot and killed the lights. “This wouldn’t have worked, would it?”
“It was temporary,” she said. “We both knew that. Besides, we’re practically a cliché. Introverted research librarian and a chief of police.”
A small breath of laughter huffed from his nostrils as he looked at her. “A cliché,” he said.
“You know. Repressed. Sexually adventurous.”
“You came on to me,” he said with a knowing smile. “Not repressed. Also not really a librarian. Maybe we’re not a cliché.”