I had a sip of coffee before I replied. “Is that why you’re here this morning, instead of at home with your wife? Did you come to lecture me?”
That sounded more hostile than I intended, but Sean paid no mind.
“Alex had to leave for Jackson early this morning for a trial, and I needed to talk to you.” He grinned. “And somehow I figured Azalea might have a few extra crumbs to feed me.”
Azalea set my plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grits on the table, along with a smaller plate of biscuits. She regarded Sean with an indulgent smile. “Always like to see a man eating a hearty meal, Mr. Sean. No trouble cracking a couple extra eggs for you and throwing a few more slices of bacon on the skillet.”
“And I thank you most heartily in return, Azalea. There’s nothing to compare with your breakfast anywhere.” Sean sighed. “Those biscuits are so light and fluffy it’s a wonder they’re not floating off the table.”
Azalea shook her head at his fanciful description, but I could tell she was pleased. Sean didn’t exaggerate by much. Azalea’s were the lightest biscuits I’d ever had, and I had eaten way too many to count in my fifty-plus years.
“Now, Dad, about these fights.” Sean fixed me with a stern gaze, and I suppressed a sigh. Sometimes he was a little too lawyer-y for me, especially first thing in the morning.
“Yes, son, what do you want to know? I’m ready for my cross-examination.” I forked some scrambled eggs into my mouth and bit off some bacon to go with them.
“First, how are you feeling this morning? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “Sore in places, and my hands hurt a bit, but nothing serious. Stewart took excellent care of me. I suppose I have him to thank for telling you about what happened last night.”
Sean nodded. “He told me about it right off this morning when I got here. He and Haskell were heading to the gym. Don’t get mad at him for telling me before you did, okay? He and Haskell were talking about it when they came out the door, and naturally I asked what had happened. He told me.”
“I wasn’t going to be angry with Stewart,” I said. “Would you like to hear my version?”
“Naturally.” Sean waved his fork at me again and then resumed eating.
In between mouthfuls of my breakfast and sips of coffee, I gave my son a quick rundown of yesterday’s events, from the afternoon encounter with Gavin Fong to the later attack by an unknown assailant.
“You’re pretty sure it was this guy Fong, even though you didn’t see the person who hit you?” Sean put his fork down, his plate now empty.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I can’t imagine anyone else who’d want to attack me like that. Can you?”
“Other than a few murderers that you’ve helped finger,” Sean said, “and they’re all accounted for, I can’t think of anyone else, besides possibly a friend or family member of one of them.”
“Even if I hadn’t seen Gavin outside Helen Louise’s place shortly before it happened, I’d still say he was the one.”
Sean nodded. “Reasonable, though it wouldn’t stand up in court.”
“I know,” I said. “And I’m not going to be foolish enough to press charges. I have other things to worry about, like this meeting with Forrest Wyatt at eight thirty.”
“It’s ten after eight now, Dad,” Sean said. “You’d better get going.”
“I lost track of the time.” I pushed back from the table. “Azalea, I can’t take Diesel with me today. Will you mind staying with him until I come home around two or two thirty?”
“Mr. Cat and me’ll be just fine. You go on and do what you need to do,” Azalea said.
I noticed that Diesel had been keeping a close watch on Azalea while I ate. I had no doubt she was slipping him bits of bacon when I wasn’t looking. When I first brought him home she wouldn’t have anything to do with him, but over time he managed to win her over.
“Thank you,” I said. “If I’m held up for any reason, I’ll let you know.”
“I need to get to the office myself,” Sean said. “Can I drive you to campus?”
“Thanks, but I need my car. I have to get over to the Farrington House for the conference after the meeting.” I gave Diesel a couple of good-bye rubs and admonished him to be a good boy for Azalea. He gave me a couple sad meows in return because he realized he wasn’t coming with me.
During the short drive to campus, I allowed myself to think about the upcoming meeting. I had kept it resolutely at the back of my mind. The whole situation embarrassed me, and I didn’t look forward to having to stand in the president’s office and hear about the effect on the good name of the school, and how disappointed Forrest was, and so on. I was disappointed in myself, and I decided the best thing I could do would be to resign as interim and go back to being the part-time rare book cataloger and archivist if I was allowed.
I found a parking spot close to the administration building, and I presented myself to the president’s administrative assistant at eight twenty-seven. Moments later, I was shown into the small conference room nearby. I had expected to find the president and the college general counsel, because of course the lawyers would have to be involved. Instead, I found the members of the search committee for the library director job seated around the table.
Forrest rose from his seat at the head of the table. “Good morning, Charlie. I’m glad you could join us at such short notice. Please, take a seat.”
I nodded and found an empty spot near the other end of the table. This is going to be worse than I imagined, I thought. The whole committee is here, and I’ve got to explain myself to all of them. I suppressed a sigh, rested my hands in my lap, and waited for the unpleasantness to start.
Forrest remained standing at the head of the table. “Charlie, the rest of the committee and I met this morning without you. I know that’s unusual, but I’m sure you will understand why in a moment.”
I know why, I thought dismally. I wanted to climb under the table.
“Frankly, I think we are all disappointed in the caliber of the persons applying for the position of library director,” Forrest said.
I wanted to cringe even more when I heard the first few words of that sentence. I was so focused on them, in fact, that I hardly heard the rest of it.
“We’ve considered the matter carefully, and the committee—again, without you—has come to a decision. I know you have told me at least twice that you are not interested in the position permanently, but the committee and I are asking you to reconsider. We feel that the leadership you have shown—not to mention the letters of support we have received from library staff at all levels singing your praises—is what our library needs.
“We know that it is more usual in academic libraries for the director to have a PhD or at least a second master’s degree, but we think in your case neither of these is important. You have the administrative and leadership skills we value, and we sincerely hope you will consider taking on the task.”
I sat there, stunned. I probably looked like a goggle-eyed fish, but I was having trouble taking it all in.
I wasn’t here to address a complaint against me by Gavin Fong. Instead, they wanted me to be the director of the library.
“You don’t have to give us an answer right away,” Forrest said. “I know this perhaps comes as a surprise to you, but if you have any interest in the position permanently, we hope you will say yes.”
Now they all stared at me, waiting for a response.
ELEVEN
I have been known to make decisions a little too impulsively. My gut instinct at the moment told me to tell Forrest Wyatt and the search committee “yes.” I needed to be completely certain, however, that I wanted the job and was prepared to take on the responsibilities it entailed. I had grown quite comfortable with my semiretired life, working only part-time and volunteering at the public librar
y. I loved working with the rare book collection, and I enjoyed my time at the public library. I would have to give those things up if I were going to work full-time as the college library director.
They were awaiting my response. I drew a deep breath, let it slowly out, and then spoke. “I am immensely flattered, not only by this offer, but also by your faith in me. I have been thinking about applying for the job, I must admit, but there are a few things I need to give deep consideration to before I can commit myself either way.” I paused for another breath. “Would it be acceptable if I made my decision over the weekend and communicated it to you on Monday morning?”
“Certainly, Charlie.” Forrest Wyatt scanned the room, but evidently none of the search committee objected. “Monday will be fine. In the meantime, I have asked Penny Sisson, the head of human resources, to talk to you immediately after we break up this meeting. She will explain the salary offer and the benefits and answer any questions you might have. You need to have that information before you finalize your decision.”
“Thank you, President Wyatt, and thank you all.” I rose to my feet as everyone else stood and began to file out of the room.
Once the last committee member was out of the room, Penny Sisson entered, smiling broadly. “I’m so excited, Charlie. I hope you will decide to take the job.” She pulled out the chair next to mine, placed some folders on the table, and began to give me the details of salary and benefits. Still in a bit of a daze, I did my best to follow along and absorb the important facts.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later I found a parking spot in the lot behind the Farrington House. Penny Sisson had been thorough—so thorough, in fact, that I struggled to remember much of what she told me. One fact persisted in my memory, however. The salary the college was offering was considerably more than I had ever earned in the public library system in Houston, even as a branch manager of many years’ service. I was comfortably off, thanks to my pension and to my aunt Dottie, who had left me her house and a considerable amount of money. I didn’t need a salary at that level, but there were a number of things I could do with the extra money. Important things like saving money for my grandchildren to go to college, and so on.
I realized at least five minutes had passed since I switched off the ignition. The inside of the car had grown warmer. I got out, locked the car, and then headed for the back entrance. I had to remember to keep an eye out for Gavin Fong today. I didn’t want to encounter him—although a small, and I did mean small, part of me wanted to tell him I’d been offered the job just to see his reaction.
I wouldn’t do it, of course. If he found out, he might attack me again, and the next time I might end up hurt a lot worse.
As I made my way to the front of the hotel and the meeting rooms, I kept a careful watch. At the registration table I picked up my name badge, the obligatory canvas tote bag, and a conference program. Having left my printouts on my desk at the library, I scanned the latter to see what sessions might tempt me. I checked my watch. The ten o’clock programs were about to start. There was a presentation on effective management of electronic resources that sounded promising. I stuck the program in my bag and hurried off to find the meeting room.
Ninety minutes later I emerged from a stimulating, informative session, and made my way to the nearest men’s room. After I finished there, I headed into the hallway and scanned the milling crowd. There was a break until the luncheon at noon—the luncheon for which Gavin Fong was the keynote speaker. I was tempted to ditch it and find my lunch elsewhere, because I had no desire to listen to Gavin opine on anything. Lisa Krause needed my support, however, and I had to make a good showing since the college library was ostensibly the host of the conference.
There was no sign of Gavin anywhere in the crowd. After a few minutes of wandering closer to the ballroom foyer, I found Marisue and Randi in conversation with a woman who looked vaguely familiar. I walked up to them in time to hear Randi say, “Why, Maxine, that’s ridiculous.”
Maxine. She was the woman who approached Gavin yesterday right after I knocked him down.
“That’s what I told him,” Maxine replied, “but you know he never listens to anyone’s advice. There’s no telling what may happen in there. He’s his own worst enemy.”
Marisue noticed me. “Hi, Charlie. How are you? Have you met Maxine Muller? She’s the associate library director for public services at the college where she and Gavin Fong work.” She quirked one eyebrow, and I took the signal to mean I should be careful what I said about Gavin.
“I’m doing fine. Hope you’re both doing well. Nice to meet you, Ms. Muller. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves so far.”
Maxine Muller hadn’t really looked at me until I spoke directly to her, but when she did, her face paled, and she took a step backward. “You’re the man who attacked Gavin yesterday.”
“We had an altercation, yes.” I didn’t like the word attack in reference to my striking him, since he tried to hit me first. “I regret that it happened, and I hope you will convey that message to Gavin for me.”
She nodded, then abruptly turned and walked away. Randi and Marisue exchanged what I would have called a knowing glance. Randi nodded.
“Is she in love with Gavin?” I asked, because I knew that was exactly what they were thinking.
Marisue shrugged. “Possibly, though I can’t imagine why.”
“Because she’s probably the type that always falls for an idiot like Gavin.” Randi shook her head. “How he finds them, I don’t know. Or I guess they find him.”
“No accounting for taste.” I smiled. “I couldn’t help overhear that last bit of your conversation with her as I approached. What were you talking about, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Why should we mind?” Randi asked. “You’re going to find out in a little while anyway.”
Marisue explained. “Maxine told us the gist of Gavin’s keynote speech for the luncheon. Apparently he’s going to spend forty-five minutes telling us how we are all shortly to become obsolete.”
I groaned. “Not that crap again. I’m so sick of hearing how we’re no longer needed because everyone can find what they need online without our help.”
“You know it’s crap, and we know it’s crap.” Randi looked angry. “Students don’t know the first thing about research these days, and even many of the faculty can’t figure out how to navigate an online journal or a database.”
“But the problem is, so many of them don’t think they need us.” Marisue appeared unruffled. “Many of them don’t even realize that they can only access research materials on the Internet because the library licenses them and pays for them on their behalf.”
“I know,” Randi said. “I had a tenured professor, a man who certainly ought to know better, tell me the library was unnecessary because he could get what he wanted online. He and the others like him don’t have a clue about licensing.”
“I’m sure you set him straight on that point.” I grinned at her.
“You’d better believe I did,” Randi said. “That and a few other things as well, like the fact that his hand had no business on my knee or any other part of my body.”
Marisue, who had been looking past Randi toward the ballroom doors, said, “They’re letting people in now. Let’s go find a table near the back. I want to be able to get out quickly if there’s a riot.” She walked off, and Randi and I followed.
I vaguely remembered Lisa Krause telling me that I was expected to sit at the speaker’s table for the keynote speech today. Under the circumstances, I thought it best that I forget she ever told me. I chose a seat at a back table between Marisue and Randi. We had a good view of the dais at the other side of the ballroom. This was more than close enough to Gavin for me.
The tables had already been set with the salad course, glasses of iced tea, and dessert, a slice of raspberry cheesecake. Our table soon fill
ed, as did the ballroom, and we chatted as we ate our salads. Before long the waitstaff came by, handing out plates of the usual grilled banquet chicken breast, along with spears of asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and roasted red potatoes.
The food was better than that of many such banquets I had attended over the years. I would have to call Donna Evans, the catering manager, later and tell her so.
As the waitstaff were clearing away our plates and beginning to serve coffee, there was activity on the dais. A tall, distinguished-looking, gray-haired man I didn’t recognize stepped up to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.” He paused for a moment, then repeated himself. The chatter died away, and he smiled. “My name is Harlan Crais.” He went on to mention his affiliation with a midsize university in Tennessee and his current position there. “It is my pleasure today to introduce our keynote speaker, Dr. Gavin Fong.” He rattled off some of Gavin’s achievements, then welcomed Gavin to the podium.
Gavin stood at the podium for at least ten or fifteen seconds without speaking as he surveyed the audience. I couldn’t see his expression clearly, but somehow I knew it was supercilious. Then he began his speech.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am here today to tell you that our profession is dying. In five years, maybe less, we will all be out of work. The academic library is dying, strangled by shrinking budgets, greedy publishers, and staff who are poorly trained to cope with today’s ever-changing technologies. Library schools have become diploma mills, turning out graduates who might just as well be working at fast-food restaurants for all the intellectual stimulation they are receiving in so-called graduate school. Master’s and doctoral degrees are nothing more than a waste of time and resources. We would all be better served by taking different career paths.”
A wave of sound moved around the room as the audience reacted to these incendiary words. The sheer hypocrisy of the man. I was incensed with him myself. He had the nerve, the colossal gall, to stand up in front of all these people and spout tripe like that after he had applied for the director’s job here at Athena. If I’d been close enough to throw something at him, I just might have at that moment.
Twelve Angry Librarians Page 7
