At the end of the hall that she was now approaching at the speed of light, there was a brick wall. There were no paintings, billboards, or pillows that would cushion the collision.
She was going to die.
Her neck would be broken in the senior center. They'd find her in a puddle of her own blood, and no one would even know how it happened.
She tried to scream, but it sounded like a frog croaking.
She braced her arms in front of herself, hoping that she might only break her arms instead of her neck.
A side door swung open, and the chatter of voices filled the hallway around Libby for a second before the door swung shut again. Someone stepped into the hallway to the left of her. The man leapt forward and snagged the arm of the wheelchair. The chair spun around fast enough for a good case of whiplash, but at least it stopped the chair from rolling.
She wasn't dead. Neither of her arms were broken. It was a Christmas miracle in the summer.
"Quick. Help me get out of this death trap."
The man laughed and grabbed her arms before he lifted her out of the chair so that she could balance tentatively on her good foot.
She looked up at the man who had saved her from imminent neck snapping. He was taller than Evan and looked to be in his mid-twenties. Brown hair, blue eyes, mustache. But lean and muscular. His looks were. . . well, Vivian would describe them as: hot.
"I promise I don't race a wheelchair down halls every day. Just Fridays."
He smiled. "Marcie?"
Libby looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, you know the menace too?"
He laughed. "I'd heard she had a roommate this summer. That must be you. You managing okay? Taken out a life insurance policy yet?"
"The first day I moved in," Libby informed him.
"Well, I'd ask what happened to your ankle, but knowing Marcie, it could get me into legal trouble. I'll help you to a seat out there."
He kept his hand on her arm to act as a cane while he helped her through the doors into the large multipurpose room full of tables. Nearly every seat was occupied, and the noise level in the room made conversation impossible as they weaved through the maze.
He led her to Marcie's table where Marcie was noticeably absent, but Helen sat glaring at everyone through her bright red glasses. Rick Horner and Cribbage Bob sat next to Helen. Bob was wearing a black dress shirt that contrasted his bright white hair and was wholly absorbed in something Helen was saying.
"Thanks for the help," Libby told the man who'd helped her to the table.
"No problem. Besides, I'm rooting for you to survive the summer." With a grin that showed off his dimples, he headed off to find his own table.
Marcie sat down next to Libby.
"What is that?" Libby asked as she pointed to the thing in Marcie's arms.
"It's a baby."
"That's what I thought."
"This is Maisy, Brenna's baby. Isn't she the sweetest thing?" Marcie lifted the baby closer to her face and began cooing and grinning at it. The baby gave a toothless grin and began patting Marcie's soft cheeks.
"Want to hold her?" Marcie asked.
Before Libby had a chance to say no, Marcie dropped the baby into Libby's arms. She wrapped her hands around it in a reflex.
The baby looked as surprised as Libby felt. Her wide eyes and wispy black hair made her look perpetually shocked. "What do I do with it?"
"Never held a baby before?"
"This is a first." Libby nodded. The baby reached out and grabbed a chunk of Libby's hair.
"She's almost five months old, so you don't have to support her head anymore. She's such a happy little thing. Brenna is doing a great job with her."
A girl close to Libby's age sat down on the other side of Marcie. "I was wondering who stole my baby. I should have known it was you."
Libby started to pass the baby to the girl, but she just waved a hand through the air. "You're welcome to hold her. I like to tease Marcie, because any time we see her, she grabs Maisy. Maisy adores her."
"She's very cute," Libby said. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say to a parent. It was better than saying, “Help! Your child's grabbed my hair and refuses to let go.”
"Brenna, I've been meaning to talk to you about that cottage behind my house. Libby and I have a great idea for it," Marcie started in and began talking about renovating her cottage into a livable tiny home that she could potentially rent out. Brenna was one of the two licensed contractors in the area, and Marcie was determined to hire her.
Marcie began explaining to Brenna about their idea to renovate the empty cottage that sat on the property — those HGTV marathons had finally gotten to them.
By the time Marcie and Brenna had hashed out the time frame of renovating the cottage, Maisy had laid her head on Libby's shoulder and fell fast asleep. Libby held perfectly still, too scared to even breath deeply.
"How sweet," Brenna said. "She must like you, because she only sleeps on people she's comfortable around."
"Excuse me, everyone!" a voice rang through the sound system as they tapped the microphone. "We'd like to get this party started."
Marcie groaned and Libby shushed her so she wouldn't wake the baby.
The man who stood on the small stage tapped the microphone again. "For those of you who don't know, I'm Mayor Dunlap. We're here tonight for a very special man in the community. Vince, you've been our fire chief for forty-five years. Your service to the citizens of Colter is unprecedented. We're sad to know you're retiring, but you've earned every minute of it."
Evan slid into the seat next to Libby and whispered, "Where'd you go? I thought you left."
"You're fired as a wheelchair driver. I almost died," Libby whispered back.
"Nice baby. Where'd you get it?"
"They're handing them out for free at the door."
The mayor was still droning on about service, Vince, and the amazing town of Colter.
"How long is this going to last?" Libby asked Marcie.
"Might as well get comfortable. Mayor Dunlap can talk as long as he has breath."
Maisy snuggled in for a long nap.
By the end of the night, Libby knew more than she ever wanted to about Vince, his service, and Mayor Dunlap's undying love for Colter. Libby also decided she might like babies after all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EVAN stood between Marcie and Libby as they stared at the church building Sunday morning. "How are you getting up there?"
"Five dollars says I can walk up those steps on my hands," Libby told him.
"I'll take that bet," Evan said as he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her a few inches off the ground. He walked up the steps, making it look as though Libby were walking right next to him. Being held close to him, she was able to smell his soft cologne. She had the sudden urge to bury her nose in his neck — and just barely resisted.
"That's a cheap way to win a bet," Libby told him once they were settled in the back pew with Marcie.
Libby had a difficult time focusing on the sermon with Evan sitting so close to her. Anytime either of them shifted, their legs or hands would brush against each other. Libby felt hyperaware of every bit of movement from Evan.
Lingering Linda wasn't at church that day. She was out of town, visiting family. It almost didn't feel like church without her strong perfume there. Pastor's wife, Linda, found Libby after the service and reminded her that they would be walking again on Wednesday if her ankle was feeling better.
Evan, Marcie, and Libby headed to the pub for a quick lunch before Evan headed back to Portland. By the time they got back to the house, Marcie was on a mission to take a nap. Or at least that's what she said as she winked at Evan and gave him a not-so-subtle nudge.
Libby was beginning to think her suspicion about Marcie trying her hand at matchmaking wasn't too far from the truth. She had been arranging for Evan and Libby to be close together all weekend. The only thing she hadn't done was lock them in a room together, and she probably hadn't tri
ed that only because the doors in the house were too old to have locks.
Marcie hugged Evan goodbye and headed upstairs for a little “rest.”
Libby lowered herself onto her hard-worked-for porch swing that still hadn't been hung. Evan leaned against the porch railing.
"I feel like I should be smoking a pipe sitting out here on the porch. It seems like the porch thing to do," Libby said.
Evan smiled. "You'd look good with a pipe."
"Thanks. Maybe I'll try one on for size while I'm here."
"You hate the smell of tobacco," he reminded her.
"Good point. I never did understand why you smoked so many cigars on poker night."
"Because that's what guys do."
"Get lung cancer?"
"No, smoke cigars and drink cheap beer."
"Interesting. Maybe I'll try it sometime."
Evan laughed. "You don't like cheap beer either."
"Neither do you. You're the beer snob out of the two of us."
"That's because it's worth being snobby about. Once you have a good beer, there's no going back," Evan told her.
"You know, I think you just like doing the whole brewery-hopping thing. Why don't you road trip to Bend?"
"I'm going to. Why don't you come with me?"
"Find me a brewery with beer-battered fries, and it's a deal."
"Good. It's a date. Now, I better head back. I promised myself I'd finish unpacking my stuff this weekend. It'll take me a couple of hours to get home."
Libby stood up to hide the confused look on her face about his words, “It's a date.” It could have just been an expression, but what if it was more? And now she was reading into it far too much, she reminded herself.
Evan moved away from his perch on the rail. "Take care of yourself and Grandma. Thanks for doing this for us."
With that, he wrapped Libby in a hug that pressed her face against his chest.
"Drive safe," she mumbled against the Henley.
"Will do, shorty."
With a final squeeze, he let her go, jogged down the steps, and jumped into his car.
Libby sat there, watching his car disappear down the road, and wondered exactly where she had gone wrong in trying to convince herself Evan was only a friend. Because her stupid heart was starting to tell her he could be more.
"Hello?" Libby stood up as she answered the phone and was happy to find she could put some weight on her ankle. After Evan left, Libby had pulled out her laptop and began brainstorming some web layouts for Ellie but ended up falling asleep. She took a nap on the purple couch with her leg resting on the arm to help elevate her ankle. It must have done the trick, because it was feeling ten times better and the swelling was gone.
"Hi, Libby. How are you?" Vivian asked.
"Are you dying?" Libby stepped outside onto Marcie's back porch so that she wouldn't interrupt Marcie where she sat writing at the kitchen table.
"No, I'm alive," Vivian answered.
"You never call me. Is something wrong?"
"Yeah, it's a long story."
Awkward pause.
Libby filled the silence. "It feels funny not living with you anymore. I haven't eaten a decent breakfast since I've been here. It's too bad you have that new job, or I would tell you to drive up to Colter and visit me and meet Marcie," Libby said.
Vivian coughed. "Actually, I'm free to come and visit."
Libby hadn't expected that response. She had thrown out the invitation because she didn't think Vivian would take her up on it. Maybe she should have thought about it before she said something.
"I need to get away for a little bit," Vivian added. She sounded tired.
"Are you sure you're okay, Viv?"
"Um, yeah, I guess. I mean, things have gotten weird with my parents again. Remember Nathaniel?"
While Vivian was talking, Libby dashed into the kitchen where Marcie sat working on her book and quietly whispered to Marcie and waved at her phone. "Want some company? It's Vivian, my old roommate."
Marcie nodded. "Tell her to come over."
Libby whispered thanks then began pacing the kitchen as she spoke to Vivian. "What about Nathaniel? Oh, and I just checked with Marcie; she says to come over."
Vivian laughed — the first sign that it was indeed Vivian that she was talking to. "Tell Marcie thanks. And I would rather explain the Nathaniel thing in person. That's part of the long story."
"Okay, now you're making me curious."
Libby waved Marcie away when she started asking, "What? What?"
"What's her address?" Vivian asked.
"Just text me when you get to town. I'll meet you at the gas station."
"Which gas station?"
"The only one," Libby laughed.
"Oh! How fun! You know I've always had a thing for small towns," Vivian said.
"Yes, I did know that. It's one of the many reasons I think you're weird," Libby told her with a laugh. "So, what day do you think you'll come up?"
"My GPS says I'm an hour away."
That was rather fast for an eight-hour drive. That girl made good time in her Prius. "Well, okay then. I'll meet you down there."
Libby hung up and sat down at the table with Marcie. "That was a little weird."
"What? What was weird? Didn't you know curiosity killed the old woman?" Marcie asked, leaning forward in her seat.
Libby narrowed her eyes at her. "Since when have you been old?"
Marcie smiled. "Whenever it suits me."
"Figures. Vivian is only an hour away."
Marcie laughed. "I hadn't realized she lived so close.
Libby shrugged. "She lives in San Francisco. I think something's wrong. She didn't say what, though."
Marcie tapped one finger on the table. "We'll get it out of her over this week."
Libby smirked. "If anyone could, it would be you, Marcie. It would be you."
An hour later, Libby and Marcie stood in the gravel parking lot of Chuck's gas station. The fumes of gas and diesel permeated the air, and Libby was sure they would never be able to wash the smell from their clothes after being there for five minutes. She wondered if people who worked at gas stations lost their sense of smell after a time.
"Why isn't anyone else here today?" Libby asked Marcie.
"Chuck's isn't open on Sundays — or any day he isn't around. He doesn't like to have the place open when he's not here. I think he's afraid he'll miss out on something. We've begged him to let Mason, the kid who works for him, run it while he's gone, but he flat out refuses. Everyone around here has to keep their gas tanks full, because it isn't guaranteed you'll be able to get gas if you need it."
"Have you ever been stranded here because you ran out of gas?"
"Yup. Three days before he opened up again. It was my chance to hitchhike to Eugene. I met the nicest truck driver that week."
Libby groaned. "I'm sure you did. No more hitchhiking. That's how people get killed. Don't forget June. You told me she was the most likely woman to be killed since she picks up so many hitchhikers."
A white Prius pulled into the parking lot and parked next to Marcie and Libby.
Vivian stepped out of the car wearing a sundress and sandals complete with a floppy hat and sunglasses.
"Hey, the Hulk called, and he wants his sunglasses back," Libby told her.
Vivian laughed. "Come on, they're not that big!"
"If I didn't know you drove that car, I wouldn't have recognized you. Those things hide your entire face."
"I know. Aren't they fantastic?"
"I'm still not sure. I'll get back to you on that," Libby laughed.
Marcie, not being one to stand on ceremony, didn't wait for Libby to introduce her. She hugged Vivian with her unnaturally long arms. Vivian hugged her back, and Libby couldn't help but think they looked like two koala bears rocking back and forth like that. Never were two huggers more perfect for each other.
"Nice to meet you, Evan's grandma," Vivian told Marcie.
&nbs
p; "You too, sweetheart. I'm Marcie. I'm glad you came to visit. Libby's been bringing new life to my house. I love having a full house again. Now, come on, let's go to Cup of Jo while you tell us all about your boy troubles."
Marcie jumped in her car and fired it up. Libby and Vivian stood there staring after her.
"Is she for real?" Vivian asked.
"I'm afraid so." Libby hobbled to the front seat. "Shotgun."
"I always lose that game," Vivian grumbled as she locked her car then jumped into the back seat of Marcie's car.
Fifteen minutes later, the three of them sat around a chalk-painted table in the corner of Jo's, each with a drink in hand.
"So. Spill."
"Spill what?" Vivian asked as she took a long sip of her chai.
Marcie hid her smile behind her coffee cup, and Libby rolled her eyes. "Something must be wrong to send you all the way to dinky Colter."
Vivian glanced at Marcie. "Is she insulting your town?"
Marcie nodded. "It's become a bad habit of hers, but I guess I'll just have to put up with it."
"You're a saint to live with her," Vivian told her as she patted Marcie's hand. "The stories I could tell. Whew."
"Hey! I'm right here. Besides, I'm pretty sure you have no stories to tell. I was the perfect roommate."
Vivian raised her brows. "Watch me. Marcie, did you know that she went on three dates during college?"
"She dated three different people?"
"No, she went on a total of three dates. And even worse, she would come home at nine. . . on a Friday. . . and study! Can you believe that?"
Marcie looked equally horrified. Libby knew she should never have introduced the two. "You don't say."
"Yup. Guess what she did for her twenty-first birthday?"
"I'm afraid to ask after what you've said." Marcie faked a shudder.
"She went out for coffee. Between her work shifts. She's pretty much the saddest roommate ever. Not to mention, she can't cook. I had to bring all the fun, and the food, to the table."
Libby smirked. "My turn. Should I tell her about what kind of roommate you were?"
Vivian waved her away. "I'm pretty sure Marcie would agree with whatever stories you have to tell. She would think I was brilliant. Like when I held the surprise birthday party for you."
The Perfect Plan Page 15
