14
Two Weeks and Counting
The instant Maura Beth opened the front door of the library the next morning, she found herself entertaining a dark premise. What if all the petitions they were about to circulate failed to excite people or made no difference, no matter what? In that case, this carefully cultivated turf of hers would suddenly become alien terrain. It would no longer be hers to manage and manipulate, to try and improve, or simply to inhabit with professional pride. Six years of hard, mostly thankless work would then be discarded like dead flowers in a vase of stale, discolored water.
But when she plunked herself down at her desk a few minutes later, she chided herself out loud for her pessimistic ramblings. “You, Maura Beth Mayhew, are being most un-Scarlett-like today. Have you no confidence in your ability to pull this out of the fire and keep the enemy at bay?”
Perhaps the long-distance conversation she’d had with her mother when she’d gotten home from the confrontation with Councilman Sparks the evening before had coaxed her doubts out of hiding. “Come on home, honey, just come on home,” her mother had said in response to hearing about the possibility of Maura Beth losing her job. “You can find something better down here where you’re closer to your family. We’ve all missed you so much. Just pack your bags and come back where you belong. You know we’ll take care of you.”
Maura Beth had long known that William and Cara Lynn Mayhew had never approved of her moving to North Mississippi, especially when she had told them what she would be earning. Apparently, it had never occurred to them that they should be thrilled she had gotten a directorship on the heels of her graduation, applauding her moxie.
Instead, “We’ll send you money anytime” had been their initial mantra; followed by the overly dramatic, “Don’t worry about getting by. No child of ours is going to clip coupons and go to thrift shops.”
Except for the rust-colored sofa—which she had not asked for—and the brass bed—which she had—Maura Beth had resisted financial assistance from her parents. Cherico was her big chance to prove herself, to make a mark on her own. Now she must bear down harder than ever if she intended to achieve the goals on page twenty-five of her college journal.
She had, in fact, just hung up with Connie about the logistics of putting the petition together when Renette knocked at her door and asked to speak with her.
“What’s on your mind?” Maura Beth said, once Renette had taken her seat.
“It’s what happened last night at the book club meeting,” she began, hanging her head. “I never realized politicians could be so scary.”
“Dealing with Councilman Sparks in particular is never easy,” Maura Beth explained. “Don’t let him upset you, although I realize you haven’t had as much practice as I have.”
But Renette started tearing up anyway. “It’s just that if the library does close down—well, I know it will be hard on you. I’ve seen how much running this library has meant to you. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked at it, and it’s inspired me to be the very best front desk clerk Cherico’s ever had. Plus, I’ll never find a boss as good as you are if I have to get another job.”
Maura Beth quickly explained the decision to create the petitions and then moved to Renette to give her a warm hug. “That’s sweet of you to worry about me, but you may not even have to do any job hunting. But if the worst happens and you do, you’ll probably find a boss that’s even better. Now I want you to run to the ladies’ room and dry your eyes. After all, we’re still up and running, and you’re the first impression our patrons get when they walk into the lobby. We don’t want them thinking you’ve been up all night crying. Oh, and get those girlfriends of yours to come in and sign that petition in the next two weeks. And tell them to tell their friends, too.”
Renette smiled even as she sniffled. “When are you going to put it up on the bulletin board? Seems like every minute counts.”
“Connie McShay is having it printed and copied later today,” Maura Beth told her. “She’ll be dropping by to tack it up. Then the countdown begins.”
After a couple of hours had passed, Maura Beth was pulled away from her petition networking by another knock at her door. “Come in,” she announced, wondering if Renette needed further reassurance.
But it was loyal, matronly Emma Frost who appeared instead. “Excuse me, Miz Mayhew. I know I’m prob’ly intruding, but Renette called me up this morning to tell me what went on here last night. I’m sorry I couldn’t come, but my husband has a real bad cold, and I don’t want it to go into the flu. We just can’t afford to have him miss any more workdays. So I had him all bundled up last night, stuffing him with my best home remedies. I know it’s not my day to be here, but I just couldn’t let this news about the library pass without coming in to say something to you.”
“I completely understand. But have a seat for a minute.” After Emma had pulled up her chair, Maura Beth continued, “I trust Renette didn’t tell you that the library was definitely being closed.”
Emma worked her hands into a nervous tangle as she spoke. “Well, I sorta got that impression. And I know we’ve had our share of days without a soul showing up, but I need this job in the worst way to help my family make ends meet. Do you think we really will be shut down?”
Maura Beth gave her an engaging smile, realizing that this was definitely an occasion to bring out the best of both Melanie and Scarlett as she had once promised to do. “You have faith, Emma. We’ll do everything we can over the next two weeks to prevent that from happening with the petitions we’re circulating. Meanwhile, there’s something you can do to help. Tell all your family and friends to come to the library and sign that petition to keep it open. You march straight home and get things started.”
Emma thanked her for the pep talk and left, after which Maura Beth sat back in her chair with a sense of accomplishment. She and her staff must keep it together and plug away at the end game. In fact, every member of The Cherry Cola Book Club must meet that challenge without flinching.
Connie and Douglas McShay were sitting in front of their great room fire discussing their efforts on behalf of the library exactly one week before the budget approval.
“There’s got to be more we can do,” Connie was saying, frustration creeping into her voice. “We’ve got everyone we know out here covered, but that’s only half a dozen people. Maybe a dozen if the Brimleys, the Milners, and the Paxtons follow up with a few of their friends.”
Douglas gave her a little hiccup of a chuckle and wagged his brows. “Surely you’re not suggesting we go around badgering strangers at their front doors like Jehovah’s Witnesses?”
She punched his arm playfully and snickered. “No, but Maura Beth actually is going door-to-door on Commerce Street. I offered to help, but she insisted she had it covered. Meanwhile, Becca and Stout Fella are mentioning the petition every day on the radio show, Miss Voncille and Locke Linwood say they’ve heard from lots of her students and his customers, and—”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Douglas said, holding his hand up in surrender. “Listen, it’s not like we haven’t pitched in all along. We’ve paid for posters and flyers and printing up the petition and that monster seafood party we had out here. I don’t think you should be beating yourself up as if you’ve done nothing.”
Connie shrugged with a pleasant smile. “I’m not really. I just want to collect as many signatures as I can for Maura Beth.” Suddenly, she snapped her fingers and bore into him with her eyes. “Of course. The Marina Bar and Grill. At last, something useful will come of your haunting that place.”
“Haunting? Come on, I go for an occasional beer, that’s all,” he insisted.
“Do they like you out there?”
He drew back in disbelief. “Uh—yeah. I’m not the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Although I felt like it sometimes in the courtroom.”
“I’ve been thinking about that since we retired here,” she began, gently rubbing his arm. “I guess all this fishing really does help you forget some of the legal stunts you had to pull over the years.”
Douglas looked suddenly uncomfortable, and he did not answer her for a while. “I suppose you could make a case for that. A guy can put up with only so much stress in his life, you know; and it’s not like you didn’t have plenty of it in the hospital day and night.”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you’ve always had your books to read to keep yourself on an even keel, right?”
She nodded dramatically, widening her eyes. “Going to the library to check out my novels has always been my great escape. I get to explore someone else’s mindset for a while. It’s a very sane exercise. More people should try it.”
“So what do you want me to do out at The Marina Bar and Grill?”
“Ask the owner if you can put up the petition, at the very least,” she began. “And then talk it up with your drinking buddies. Well-lubricated people are more apt to listen to what you have to say.”
He gave her a little smirk. “Or forget it.”
“Never mind that. Don’t you guys bond watching football games and other sports out there all the time?”
Douglas laughed out loud. “You make The Marina Bar and Grill sound like one of those tree houses that little boys build where little girls aren’t allowed. There are wives and girlfriends on the premises. Women fish, too.”
“I can’t believe you just said that!” she exclaimed, turning to face him directly now.
“Why? You don’t believe me? You don’t think women can bait hooks?”
“Don’t be absurd. Of course I believe you. It was the perfect segue for something else I wanted to discuss with you. It’s about the details of our retirement. I feel like we’re leading two separate lives again, just the way we did in Nashville when we put everything we had into our careers. This was supposed to be a new start for us.”
“But I think last night at the library went well for us,” he pointed out. “Maybe not at the end there for Maura Beth with Councilman Sparks jumping down her throat the way he did, but you and I had a good time together, didn’t we?”
“That begs the question. We still spend most of our time apart. You’re out there with your beer and your fish, and I’m here inside waiting for you to get your fill. The truth is, the rain brings you in more often than the sound of my voice does. If this is the way it’s going to be, I’d rather go back to Nashville where I had Susan and Paul and so many other friends to do things with.”
Douglas turned to her with a puzzled expression, briefly shutting one eye. “I thought you considered these Cherry Cola people your friends. You’ve just finished saying how much helping Maura Beth means to you. Matter of fact, I think we’ve both made some nice new friends in the book club. Paul and Susan like them, too.”
“They are our friends, and I’m thankful for them and the things we’ve done together. But they can’t fill up all of my days or any of my nights. We can only expect so many visits from Lindy and Melissa or Susan and Paul. You and I have to manage the rest of the time together. Since we moved, it’s almost like retiring has given us permission to stop working at our marriage.”
He folded his arms and made a brief hissing sound. “I don’t think I’m such a slouch in bed, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Connie said, throwing up her arms in frustration. “Your true passion now is fishing, and that wall of photos across the room is proof. Retiring down here has made me realize that I come second.”
“Now you’re really exaggerating,” he said, the annoyance clearly evident in his voice. “But if you truly think that way, then let’s talk about what we can do to turn that particular perception around.”
Connie straightened up, patted her hair, and surprised him with a pleasant grin on her face. “I thought you’d never ask. Here’s what I’m proposing. I know you’ll never be a reader the way I am, and two people can’t read together anyway, except to sit in the same room and turn pages in silence. So, why don’t you teach me how to fish? You’ve always said you needed a partner out there in The Verdict. Why not have a good time with your wife? I’m not too old to learn new tricks.”
He jerked to attention, almost as if he had been pricked with a needle. “You’re serious? You’d actually be willing to learn about different baits and lures and how and where to cast? You know there’s so much more to reading the water than most people think.”
“Well, I have to start somewhere. Maybe we’ll both be reading together after all. Then we can negotiate what else we can do with our retirement from my point of view.”
He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately, followed by a sweet little kiss. “I can handle that. So, being the reader that you are, can you tell me if we’re back on the same page again as husband and wife?”
Connie chuckled softly even as she pulled back. “I’m going to say yes, but with an important caveat.”
“And what’s that?”
“You take over cleaning what we catch and keep for a while. I’m so over fish guts, it’s not funny.”
“You got it,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. Then he extended his hand and they shook on it firmly. “Meanwhile, I’ll take one of the petitions out to the lake this afternoon to Harlan Lattimore. Why don’t you come with me and make friends with a few of the women? Who knows? Maybe some of them will even be readers, and you can talk best sellers.”
Locke Linwood and Miss Voncille were comparing notes, sitting side by side on his living room sofa. It was a mere three days to the budget approval, and they were counting up their successes.
“Okay, that makes a total of sixteen of my life insurance customers with Vince Langham and his wife promising to drop by the library to sign the petition,” Locke was saying, puffing himself up proudly. “You have to realize that a lot of my clients have died off, so this is a pretty good response in my estimation.”
But Miss Voncille was far less sanguine, disdaining the humor he was trying to inject. “But sixteen is a just a drop in the bucket. Even if you add the twenty-three students who’ve responded to me positively. That’s barely forty people. I wanted to do a lot better for Maura Beth, and frankly, I’m disappointed in my students. Maybe some of them didn’t like me as well as I thought.”
“You’ve been in a pessimistic mood all this week about this, sweetheart. Please don’t revert to type and channel that nitpicky schoolmarm of yours again. I thought you’d banished her for good,” he contended. “We can only do what we can do.”
“I think you’re being a little nitpicky with me yourself,” she snapped back.
“Perhaps I am. Sorry.” Then he rose from the sofa and headed over to the bookcase where he again retrieved Pamela’s letter from beyond the grave. “I think we both might be in need of a little inspiration again.” He resumed his seat and ran his finger halfway down the paper. “Go ahead and read it out loud starting right there. It shows you just how prescient my Pamela really was—why, she may even have been clairvoyant.”
Miss Voncille scanned the page quickly and began:
“We agreed that you should continue to attend ‘Who’s Who in Cherico?’ at the library; that you should do everything you could to support that sweet young librarian, Maura Beth Mayhew—she’s just as darling as she can be, and she’ll need all the help she can get with the powers-that-be, believe me—”
“Stop right there. You can’t tell me that that doesn’t give you goose bumps, knowing how long ago it was written.”
Miss Voncille looked up from the letter, staring over at Pamela’s mesmerizing portrait. “I have to agree. It’s definitely uncanny the way everything has converged to make her words seem as if they were written this morning. Hats off to you and your foresight, Miz Pamela.”
“My sentiments exactly. And it’s my further opinion that this is a sign we’ll succeed with this petition and that this is the right thing to do.”
“I’d certainly like to think so.”
“I believe there’s more to this world than we could ever imagine.”
Miss Voncille considered for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. “I know this much. You just can’t give up on your life because it gets hard and bad things happen to you. Eventually, something good that you’ve earned from hanging in there comes along. Like a sweet, chivalrous Southern gentleman fresh from his morning shave.”
“I’m happy to resemble that.”
They both leaned together in laughter, but she let go of the moment quickly. “I’m still wondering if this petition will sway Durden Sparks in the end, though. I’ve known him most of his conceited life, and I’ve never seen him not get his way.”
Locke nestled his shoulder against hers again and then shot her a dismissive look. “There’s always a first time, and this may very well be it.”
Then Miss Voncille sighed dramatically. “Do you think I should call up Morbid Mamie and make sure she’s put her John Hancock on our petition yet?”
Locke gave her a thumbs-up. “Not only that, but invite her and her sister over here for what will be our revenge game of bridge. I still have a bad taste in my mouth from last time.”
Jeremy McShay’s daily phone calls and e-mails from Nashville had kept Maura Beth energized during the two-week petition countdown. Their conversations hadn’t lasted all that long but had served to keep their burgeoning emotional connection alive and well, while their e-mails had contained the ordinary details of his life at the school and hers at the library. It particularly pleased Maura Beth that he was always the one to initiate the contact in the old-fashioned manner she had always projected both in her dreams and in her journal. She couldn’t get enough of his thoughtful pursuit and made a habit of concluding each and every communication with her very own signature phrase: Keep those cards and letters comin’, folks!
Finally, though, all the long-distance flirting gave way to the day before the budget approval. Just past three o’clock that afternoon, Maura Beth had set out from the library on what she considered to be the most important journey of her life. The butterflies in her stomach felt more like a swarm of bees as she reached Commerce Street on foot, but she did her best to disguise her anxiety with an unwavering smile as she entered Audra Neely’s Antiques to pick up her first petition.
“Here you go,” Audra said, smiling brightly while handing it over from behind a counter crowded with everything from music boxes to ceramic figurines. “I talked you up every time someone came in.”
“Thank you so much,” Maura Beth replied, not particularly surprised by the revelation. She had conjectured that the women who fancied the stylish Audra’s cutesy boutique approach to antiquing were among the more sophisticated in Cherico and likely to be sympathetic to the cause.
Then came the surprising downer. “I only wish I could have collected more for you, Miz Mayhew. Business has been a little slow lately. It’s the economy, you know.”
Maura Beth glanced at the sheet and counted the signatures. “Well, you got fifteen for me, Audra, including your own. That’s fifteen I didn’t have before I came in. And we’d love to have you make an appearance at City Hall when the final decision on the library is made.”
Once she was out on the sidewalk again, Maura Beth drew her overcoat closer to her body against the brisk November breeze. Those fifteen signatures were now registering as a nasty chill at the bone. What if all the petitions turned out to be so disappointing?
The Vernon Dotrice Insurance Agency a few doors down was next. As Maura Beth had discovered, the dynamic and very dashing Vernon had bought the business from Locke Linwood when he had retired a few years back. Furthermore, he had been double-teamed by Locke and Maura Beth herself with e-mails, phone calls, and personal visits, and was now thoroughly behind the valiant attempt to keep the library open.
“Hope this helps,” Vernon told her once they were seated inside his office. He handed over two copies of the petition with an impish grin and waited for her reaction.
“You’re kidding?!” she exclaimed, scanning the paper with her eyes bugging.
“No, ma’am, I’m not. Seventy-five beauties—signed, sealed, and delivered. Hey, Mr. Linwood sold me a very solvent concern here. I took what he gave me and turned it into an even bigger goldmine.” He paused and gently wagged a finger. “Just one caveat. You might want to check my list against Mr. Linwood’s to make sure there are no duplicates. I don’t think there will be, though. I’m pretty sure all these signatures are customers I’ve won over since I bought the agency—and their spouses, in many cases. That’s what really got the numbers up.”
“You must be the only game in town, then,” Maura Beth added, still a bit dazed by his results. “If I ever need life insurance, I promise I’ll look you up.”
“You do that, Miz Mayhew. You know your way here. And, by the way, I’ll make it a point to drop by your library now and then. I don’t want to be just a signature on a piece of paper.”
“We’d love to see you in the Council Chambers tomorrow, too.”
“I’ll see what I can do about rounding people up.”
An ecstatic Maura Beth felt her marrow warming again as she popped into Cherico Ace Hardware next door to greet the store manager, Harry Weeks. But she could tell by the evasive look on his wide, bearded face that this was probably going to be another Audra Neely’s Antiques’ outing.
“I’m sorry, Miz Mayhew,” he told her, taking the petition down from his bulletin board and handing it to her. “I guess people in the market for a hammer and nails don’t go to the library much. Apples and oranges?”
Maura Beth glanced at the six signatures he’d collected for her but was careful to give him her brightest smile. “Thank you for putting it up for me, Mr. Weeks. That’s all I could ask. If you get a moment, drop by the Council Chambers tomorrow around nine-thirty.”
As Maura Beth made her way one block over to The Cherico Market, she bucked up anyway. Her instincts had told her from the beginning that she wouldn’t find much of an audience at the hardware store, but she couldn’t imagine that James Hannigan, his employees, and customers wouldn’t come through for her.
“There she is!” Mr. Hannigan exclaimed as the automatic doors parted for her, and she walked in eagerly anticipating some good news. The two embraced warmly, and a couple of the cashiers stopped their grocery scanning long enough to smile and wave.
“I hope you’re having a special on signatures today,” Maura Beth told him, zeroing in on the sheets of paper he was holding in his hand.
“We outdid ourselves,” he said, leaning in and presenting three separate petitions to her.
She gasped in delight, feeling as if she’d just received an early Christmas present. Two of the sheets were completely filled, while the third sported only a few empty lines.
“Two-hundred and sixty names, to be exact,” he explained. “Count ’em.”
She held them against her overcoat and sighed. “I’ll take your word. But it’s lovely. Just lovely.”
“Frankly, I don’t think my customers could resist the little announcement I kept making over the P.A. system,” he explained, puffing out his chest. “I’ve still got it memorized. Wanna hear it?”
“Absolutely!”
“Well, first I did the ‘Attention, shoppers!’ opening because they always perk up when they hear that. ‘What’s on sale?’ they think right away. Then I said, ‘If you or your spouse or your children or any other member of your family swears by the library for any reason whatsoever, you’ll want to be sure and sign our petitions on the bulletin board to keep it up and running. That’s right, your Cherico Library could be closed for good starting the first day of January if you don’t stand up to be counted. Books are the only thing about the library that should be shelved! Sign today!’ ”
Maura Beth gave him another quick hug. “That’s so clever, and it obviously worked.”
He blushed and gave her a shy smile. “Well, I do write all the copy around here, and it’s not bad if I do say so myself.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the Shakespeare of the supermarket.”
Things were definitely looking up, as Maura Beth thanked Mr. Hannigan, reminded him of the time the budget approval would take place, and walked back to the library to complete her rounds—this time in her car. She had to drive over to Cherico Tresses and then out to The Marina Bar and Grill to pick up those petitions. But she would not know the final total until Periwinkle closed her doors that evening. Then she could add the library signatures to those collected at The Twinkle and by other members of the club such as Locke Linwood and Miss Voncille. That, and continue to solicit warm bodies in the seats for the actual budget approval.
But when all was said and done, would it be enough to force Councilman Sparks to do the right thing tomorrow morning?