“Yes. Great. Thank you.”
We disconnect, and while I’ve been agreeable with Kara about what should be my priority, I immediately dial my father, hoping to move the attorney to an earlier or later time. He doesn’t answer, and after a huff of frustration, I decide his lack of response is most likely for the best. Delaying the meeting is not an option. Not when the Lion’s Den jerk is ready to gobble my father up and spit him out, broke and demoralized once again.
I have to be there. I have to look into the attorney’s eyes and know he can play in the devil’s sandbox with Big Davis and win. My father is too gentle to do so. My mother is too one-dimensional.
I’ve made the decision—I’m set—when Jack walks into the office. “Any word?”
I turn in my chair to face him. “There’s no moving the meeting. I’ll find out my fate here at the library from a distance. Neil is out of the office until the meeting.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’ve been thinking on this in case this was how this all played out. I do believe I have an idea, and it just might be a good one.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Well, it takes courage, but you seem to be all about that kind of move right now.” He sits down and rolls his chair closer to mine. “I collected every board member’s email. Why don’t you write a nice letter to them all, apologizing for your nerves but also reiterating the stellar numbers you and Kara have produced together. You’re good with words when you’re able to hide behind a screen, Mia. I think it can work.”
I give myself a moment to absorb this idea and push past what would normally be my immediate rejection. Once I do this, once I refuse to just say no, my mind resets to a hard yes. “I’ll have to approve it with Kara, but I do think it’s a great idea. Thank you, Jack. And you say I’m all about courage. You wouldn’t have come up with this idea before. Maybe courage is contagious.”
He gives me a warm smile. “Maybe it is. Call Kara. Get it approved, and then get to the back room and start writing. It’s my turn to grab lunch. I’ll hit that soup spot we love and bring you back some brain food.”
“Perfect,” I say.
Just that quickly, he’s exiting the office, and I’m turning to my desk, reaching for my phone, and punching in Kara’s number, spilling the idea Jack and I have concocted, and doing so with rapid, nervous rambling. When I’ve splattered all the words I can muster, and it’s really, truly too many words, I hold my breath to await her reply, but not for long. “I like it,” she confirms. “It’s a great idea. I’m proud of you, Mia. You’re taking initiative, taking control. These are things I knew you could do. That’s why I pushed you toward the auditorium job.”
I hate how every compliment reminds me of Adam, who’s been remarkably silent most of the day, and yet he manages to scream like a banshee in my head. “Thank you, Kara. Do you want to read it before I send it?”
“Nope. I trust you. I’ll send you the list of emails you need to make this happen, so just include me on the email itself. The sooner the better, though. I want this in our arsenal when I go to that meeting this afternoon.”
We disconnect, and feeling motivated, I snatch up my MacBook and exit the office. Jack is standing at the help desk, apparently caught by a patron before he could escape to grab that “brain food.” He glances over his shoulder and motions toward the back room. I give him a nod and a smile. He returns the smile and includes a thumbs-up. Just that easily I’m off to the back room again, this time to write a letter rather than a presentation.
There is a lift to my step. I’m taking control of my life, and it feels good.
But there is also a little voice in my head that says, “What if I’m not doing enough to please Adam?”
I sit down at the desk, and I open my MacBook with an ugly realization. I haven’t looked at the news once since I got to work. I haven’t worried about Kevin once this morning. All I’ve done is think about myself.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Of course, once I realize I’ve forgotten all about Kevin, I google the news. There is nothing to find, not yet, but there will be. Tonight, maybe? Won’t his company miss him today? I expect they’ll send his landlord and/or the police to do a wellness check? Surely they will.
The idea of all things Kevin and Adam becomes a distraction that has me struggling over the content of the letter. In an effort to focus, I stand, I pace, and I press a hand to my forehead. Be in the now, Mia. The now. I didn’t forget about Kevin because I don’t care about Kevin, I tell myself. My mind did what minds do. It’s placed a barrier between me and what I cannot handle and survive. I know this from psychology class and more than a few books.
This is why people who get fired often blame their bosses, even if they’re in the wrong. They need to believe they were in the right to keep moving forward. This delivers me to a horrible question for myself. I’m not doing that with the auditorium, right? No. I reject that idea immediately. I did a crappy job in the presentation. That is my only sin here. This idea motivates me, drives me toward a direction to write my email.
I sit down and get to work.
By the time I’ve eaten a bowl of tomato soup Jack brought me from a soup place down the road, I have a draft of my email. I send it to him and watch his face as he reads the contents, knowing the words even as he digests them for the first time.
Dear distinguished board members and esteemed library colleagues:
I’m writing to follow up on my recent presentation on the surge in auditorium profits, which you attended here at the main library. As obvious as an amazing fiction novel that rides its way to the New York Times Best Sellers list, I am not a master presenter, at least not in a group setting. Thus, I worked so very diligently to present the amazing success story that has been the billing dollars and storytelling the auditorium and its many events have brought to life. It’s been a joy to work to turn our dream of creating a successful auditorium that manages to weave a story of its own inside a place that is all about brilliant storytelling—the main library.
Now, you might wonder how I’ve done such a thing, when I stand before a large group of board members, and can barely speak my name. With practice comes perfection. I’ve been sharing my love of books with people since I was young enough to speak. I’ve only stood in front of a room of prestigious people who obviously are committed to the world of books I love one time. If any of you sat with me one on one, my ability to talk about the auditorium, revenues, and business matters would be, and is, solid. I’d also most likely convince you to read a book I adore, and believe you would as well.
I thank you so much for the years I’ve enjoyed in the library system and invite you to ask me questions or chat with me about the presentation material, concerns, or, as always, a book you simply can’t wait to connect with a fellow book lover to discuss. After all, books are the life of this operation. Without them, we are nothing. In the famous words of George Herbert, “Good words are worth much, and cost little.”
Yours truly,
Mia Anderson
Master Librarian and Auditorium Coordinator
Jack’s gaze lifts to mine, and I quickly say, “It’s rough. It’s not proofed or tweaked. It’s just from the heart and—”
“It’s perfect. Send it, Mia. You got this. You are in control. Not that asshole Akia. Then go to your meeting with your parents and bring the same Midas touch you did to this email. Maybe you should wear Chanel more often.” He stands up. “I better go check on the team. Proof it. Send it.” With that, he turns and walks away.
My brows furrow. Maybe I should wear Chanel more often? How did he know I’m wearing Chanel? Jack is not Jess. He’s not a brand kind of guy. I’m confused right now. So very confused.
Chapter Sixty-Five