Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  “The library,” Mia answered. One of the two new library assistants, Mia was pale and blonde. She also had exceptional people skills, a quality that warmed the cockles of Charlie’s introverted book-nerd heart.

  “Exactly,” Charlie said, looking pleased with herself.

  “What about ‘Books Don’t Fart’?” Mia asked, pointing to the last item on the list artfully displayed in the case.

  “I thought that one was self-explanatory,” Charlie said.

  Effie gave Mia the side-eye, before placating Charlie. “Well, of course. It is.”

  “Did I mention I also hate Valentine’s Day colors? Red? Too on-the-nose. And seriously? Who likes pink?” Charlie tossed the hearts she’d been crafting out of lace doilies up into the air in frustration.

  “Barbie,” Mia said.

  “My point exactly,” Charlie said, cutting a big purple heart out of construction paper. “I’m not a doll with dream house . I’m a real, live woman in the north woods.”

  “Honestly, Charlie,” Effie said. “You are one Taylor Swift song away from being a danger to yourself as well as of all mankind.”

  “And when she says ‘mankind’, she means ‘men’,” Mia added. “Specifically.”

  “I like to think this year my Valentine’s Day display is performing a public service. All the single women of Good Harbor, fair warning. Enter into a relationship at your own risk,” Charlie said.

  “On behalf of all the single ladies,” Effie said. “Thank you, Charlie Bishop. For reminding us as if we weren’t already painfully aware, being single sucks, and Valentine's Day only exists to rub it in our faces.”

  “Other than my sophomore year in college when the guy I was dating showed up at my dorm for a late-night booty call with a single red gas station rose wrapped in cellophane, I don’t have a single pleasant Valentine’s Day memory,” Mia said.

  “I’ve never had a Valentine,” Charlie said. “Twenty-four years and I’ve spent them all in the company of a good book.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Mia said.

  “Time spent in the company of one of my book boyfriends is never wasted. It just...”

  “I gather you’re still not over it?” Effie asked.

  “It?” Charlie asked. “You mean getting dumped the day before Valentine’s Day last year? No. I’m not.”

  “You need to move on, Charlie. Nels Ferguson isn’t all that,” Mia said.

  “It’s not Nels. I’m totally over him,” Charlie said. “It’s having to celebrate Happy As-if-you-didn’t-already-know-you-are-single-and-unloved Day every year! I hate it. I really do. I absolutely despise Valentine’s Day.”

  Charlie climbed down from the ladder and walked to where her audience stood to check out the impact her display would have on visitors.

  Effie shook her head. “Some day when you least expect it, someone’s going to come along who will make you regret being so bitter and angry.”

  “That man does not exist.” Charlie shook her head emphatically. “At least not here. Not in Good Harbor.”

  “Charlie?” Ariel called from where she was seated behind the Information Desk on the first floor. The other library assistant, Ariel was petite and dark, a sharp contrast to her BFF Mia. Ariel's words echoed and reverberated under the dome of the three-story lobby. “Katrina is looking for you.”

  “Give it to me on a scale of one-to-ten,” Charlie shouted back.

  Head Librarian Katrina Jacobs, brought new meaning to passive aggressive. She could avoid you for weeks if she was just annoyed with you. If she was really angry, she’d ignore you right to your face. But if she requested you to come to her office, it was because her anger had boiled over into homicidal rage. If Katrina was on the warpath, Charlie needed to know exactly what she was up against.

  “It’s a twelve,” Ariel said.

  “Fuuuuuhdge,” Charlie said. “Okay. Tell her I’ll be right there.”

  Charlie stepped into the head librarian’s office and took a deep calming breath, desperate to keep her own temper from flaring. The walls of Katrina’s office were covered in handcrafted walnut woodwork and the desk was placed at an angle with a breathtaking view of the tranquil river flowing down to the harbor. Charlie could see a family of swans gently paddling on the mirror-like surface of the water.

  How could anyone maintain such hostility while working in this office every day?

  Katrina looked up from her desk and gave Charlie the up-and-down look only one woman could do to another. Charlie was immediately aware she was too casually dressed for work. It was ‘Casual Friday’ but her favorite oversized brown cardigan and boyfriend jeans had seen better days. Not even her neon-yellow stiletto heels could save it. Katrina was always impeccably dressed in designer clothes, and Charlie was sure it gave her an edge in their frequent clashes.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I wanted to see you,” Katrina said, peering at Charlie over her reading glasses. Katrina narrowed her eyes, and Charlie wondered if she was attempting put some kind of hex on her. She wouldn’t put it past her. Katrina was so witchy.

  What could possibly warrant this much drama? Katrina must’ve found a dead body in the stacks with my fingerprints on the murder weapon, Charlie thought. What else could it be?

  “Yes. I guess I am.”

  “I am concerned about staff communication,” Katrina said. “I think we’re being negligent.”

  “You’re right. We probably need to have more regular staff meetings,” Charlie agreed, putting the blame for miscommunications squarely on the head librarian's shoulders. Katrina called in sick more days than not. It was entirely her fault staff meetings were frequently cancelled.

  “That’s not the problem, Charlie. I’m concerned about you and your staff communicating better with each other. I’m looking at the budgets for next year, and, quite frankly, I think we could be more efficient with a smaller staff if we were better at communication.”

  “What do you suggest?” Charlie asked, hoping Katrina didn’t notice how shrill her voice sounded at the mere suggestion of staff cutbacks.

  “I’ve purchased a walkie-talkie system,” Katrina said, gesturing to a pile of equipment on the console table behind her desk. “I want you to become familiar with all of it and teach your staff how to use them. Then they can reach out to each other for assistance when there are problems. And I’ll be able to listen in to your conversations while I’m in my office, so I’ll have a better understanding of the issues you’re facing.”

  Headsets? Walkie-Talkies? Charlie immediately decided her next monthly topic in the lobby display case would feature the omnipresent surveillance in George Orwell’s classic ‘1984’.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Charlie said.

  “What do you suggest?” Katrina asked. For once, Charlie was speechless. “Until you have a better idea, I want every member of the staff to wear a headset when they are clocked in. That means you too, Charlie.”

  Charlie flashed a tight smile. Originally hired to convert the library’s collection to a computerized system, Charlie rarely had time to focus on her task. She was too busy cleaning up all of Katrina’s messes.

  “I know you were hired to modernize the catalogue,” Katrina continued. “But as my assistant, I’ve given you more responsibility. If you want to continue in a management position, then I must insist. Am I clear?”

  Charlie smiled sweetly. “Perfectly.”

  “And Charlie, one more thing. I read the report you prepared for the board,” Katrina said. “I must admit, I’m shocked at your slow progress, especially since you spend so much of your time at the library complaining about your non-existent social life.”

  Ugh!

  Katrina knew exactly where Charlie was most vulnerable. She sighed in resignation and then did exactly what was required of her. She puckered up and placed her lips firmly on Katrina’s buttocks... figuratively, not literally. “I’m so sorry, Katrina. I will refocus all of my effort
and attention to getting the catalogue online as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you. I will keep your shortcomings our little secret. For now.” She likely relished having something to hold over Charlie.

  “I really appreciate you having my back on this one,” Charlie said, getting to her feet, she hurried toward the door, giving into her overwhelming need to escape. She reached for the doorknob, thinking she’d made a clean getaway.

  “You know, dear...” Katrina said.

  A term of endearment? Really? You don't even like me.

  “...If you can keep your work at a consistent level, I won’t have any problems recommending you to the board to fill the position of children’s librarian.”

  Say what? That position isn’t open. Effie had been the children’s librarian for more than twenty years.

  “Is Effie leaving?” Charlie asked.

  There was a long silence.

  “Not immediately, but she has expressed to me, strictly in confidence, mind you, she would like to retire in the very near future. And I think you know, I’ve been under a lot of pressure from the board to streamline our staff and cut the budget.”

  Bullshit! You bullshiting bullshitter!

  Charlie painted a smile on her face. She and Effie had talked about it just this morning while repairing the torn covers of some paperbacks to put back into circulation. Effie had no plans to retire.

  “It’s not in my nature,” Effie said. “I plan to drop dead in the middle of re-shelving ‘Adventures in Babysitting’.”

  “Effie has been here so long she seems as much a part of the library as the building itself,” Charlie said.

  “This big old library and Effie are both obsolete.” Katrina said. “I know you enjoy a special friendship with Effie. So I’m going to assume her confiding in me rather than you comes as a bit of a shock, but I would admonish you not to talk to Effie about her plans. She told me her desires in the strictest of confidence.”

  Charlie balled her fists at her side. She wanted to leap across the big wooden desk and strangle Katrina with her own brassiere, but she took a deep breath and put a smile on her face like the Mona Lisa.

  Screw you, madam librarian!

  ***

  Hank Carter walked at a brisk pace up the big hill overlooking the harbor. He stopped at the overlook on the bridge to take in the amazing view of Lake Michigan.

  Man, that never gets old.

  A touristy little town eight hours due north of Chicago, Good Harbor was perfectly situated on the shores of Lake Michigan. Surrounded by sand dunes and acres of unspoiled century-growth forests, as far as Hank was concerned it was heaven on earth.

  The day was bitter cold. The wind blowing off the white-capped waves cut through his winter parka and chilled him to the bone. Hank didn’t give a shit. He had too many problems he needed to immediately address to complain about life’s little irritations.

  He put a big square shoulder down to push through the front doors of the tallest building in town, which wasn’t really saying much since it was only four stories. A blonde in a tight sweater smiled up at Hank from the reception desk in the lobby.

  “Hey, Hank,” she said.

  “Hi, Chrissy. What’s new? “

  “I’m divorced,” she said and she made it sound like an invitation. Yeah. He should’ve seen that one coming.

  “Sorry to hear it,” Hank said, offering up a silent prayer the elevator doors would close as soon as possible.

  When the elevator opened on the top floor offices of Easterling Construction, another woman greeted him with a big smile. She looked kind of familiar.

  Fuck. I hooked up with her when I was in college. Was her name Cher or Claire?

  Damn. He wasn’t sure.

  “Hi Cher.” Hank figured he had a fifty-fifty shot at getting it right.

  A big smile broadened across her face. “Hey, Hank. How’re you doing?”

  Just then Earl’s long-time assistant, Tina, came around the corner. She fixed Hank with a sympathetic smile. “You here to see Earl, honey? Go, right on in.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Hank settled into a chair across a wide wooden desk which was scattered haphazardly with folders and rolled up blueprints. Earl Easterling was the owner of the most successful construction company in Good Harbor. He greeted Hank warmly.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Earl asked.

  Hank exhaled. There was no reason to beat around the bush with Earl. “Carter Construction is in trouble. I need to find a way to keep my dad’s business afloat.”

  “Not possible,” Earl said crisply.

  “I wouldn’t ask for help if my back wasn’t up against a wall,” Hank insisted.

  “What is happening to your dad's business is not your fault. It’s his. He’s used up all his chances, Hank. You’ve got to let him fail,” Earl’s tone was gentle, yet firm. “You should focus on what you really want to do.”

  Hank sighed deeply. Even though it was hard to hear, he knew Earl was telling the truth. It was easier coming from someone he respected.

  “You went to art school, Hank. You always dreamed of being a working artist. I’ve never seen anyone do glass blown work like yours. I know I have provincial tastes, but you’re damn good. Why aren't you doing it?”

  “Right now, I just need to pay some bills.”

  Earl pressed his lips together before speaking. “Easterling Construction has a service division. We have clients who need stuff fixed from time-to-time after a construction project has ended. It’s kind of like a handyman service. I can throw some work your way. “

  “That would be great.”

  “I want to be clear. I’m doing this for you, Hank. Not your dad. And I’m only doing this as long as you promise to continue to pursue your art.”

  Tina brought two cups of coffee into Earl’s office. She handed one to Hank, and put the other on Earl’s desk and pushed it toward him.

  She smiled sweetly. “Do you want cream? Sugar?”

  “I’m good.” Hank shook his head. “Thank you.”

  “All the girls in the office love it when you visit.”

  Hank blushed.

  “Don’t play matchmaker, Tina,” Earl admonished. “It’s the last thing Hank needs.”

  “My bad,” Tina gracefully found the exit.

  “Thank you. You’ve been more of a…” Hank stopped himself. He was grateful to Earl, but he wasn’t ready to let his guard down.

  “I’m still taking bids on the lighting fixtures for the Old Mission project,” Earl said. “No one does work like yours, Hank. I just need some samples to show the client.”

  “Right now. If I can pay some bills, maybe I can get back on track.”

  “Do you need a short term loan?”

  “No,” Hank said. “I’m good.”

  “Don’t worry, man. I’ve got your back.”

  Hank’s dad was waiting for him in the corner booth of Blue, the restaurant with the best view of Lake Michigan in town. Jeff Carter’s silver hair was clipped close on his well-shaped head. His blue eyes were just as bright as ever, although heavy lines etched his face. His plaid shirt and Carhartt jacket gave him the appearance of a man who worked for a living, but Hank wasn’t fooled. His dad spent more time drinking than working these days.

  Since returning from college, Hank had been living by his dad’s ‘he-man bro-code’ which put being athletic and appearing tough ahead of any other virtue. No one would ever question Hank’s masculinity, but his artistic soul begged to be noticed. He couldn’t go on like this. He had to tell his dad the truth.

  Dude, you need therapy.

  More than once over the past few years, Hank considered getting professional help, but in the end he didn’t want to pay someone to talk about his feelings. He had plenty of feelings. He just didn’t want to talk about them.

  Jeff Carter didn’t get up when his son approached the table. He smiled, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Hank reached out and sh
ook his Dad’s hand. When Hank pulled out a chair and sat down, his dad patted him on the shoulder. That was the extent of the affection which passed between father and son. It left Hank with a hollow feeling.

  His dad had never been affectionate, but his mom had always insisted on kisses when he got up in the morning, when he came home from school, and when he went to bed at night. Hank never shied away from his mom’s open arms. If she had lived longer, his parents would’ve created a nice balance.

  As much as Hank missed his mom, he knew his father missed her even more. His dad was devastated when she died. At first, he hid in bed under the covers, allowing his mother-in-law to care for six year-old Hank. Once his dad made it back onto his feet again, he was like a machine. He took care of Hank and watched sports. Sports healed him. Unfortunately, his heart had scabbed over and he forgot how to be human.

  Hank’s dad had already ordered a cocktail. Hank noticed it immediately when he sat down. It was on a small paper napkin above the place setting. His dad had promised Hank two weeks ago he would stop drinking. Not for the first time.

  “You having a drink?” Hank asked, trying to keep his voice light and non-confrontational.

  “Yeah. Vodka and tonic, but I’m off beer for good.”

  Hank marveled his father could draw a distinction between vodka and beer.

  “I’ve got good news. I think I got a line on a project that should keep us busy through the weekend,” Hank's dad said.

  “I’m not going to be able to work this week. I got a full-time gig working for Easterling Construction,” Hank said.

  His dad fixed Hank with a glare. “I thought we both were committed to building up Carter Construction.”

  “And I thought you were committed to stop drinking,” Hank said.

  His dad had been just about to take a sip of his vodka and tonic, but he put the glass back down on the table. He was silent but his nostrils flared with anger.

  “Working for Easterling Construction will give me time to work on art projects.” Hank explained, keeping his voice as soft and gentle as he could manage.