Chapter Four
The sun was out now and streaming through the window, as if the downpour had been all in her imagination. Daisy fairly skipped up the lobby steps to the children’s area. She crossed to the little corner she always thought of as hers and ran a hand over the old quilt. If she could get the community behind her plans, when she figured out what her plans actually were, it just might work. Her mind kept replaying Lane’s expressions and words: that smile, the protective stance, the quiet sadness when he spoke of Marie… until she gave herself a mental slap.
She would never come back to live here so there was no reason to spend another minute on him. He was the kind of man who loved the small town, the tight community, the Friday night football at the high school. It’s not like she hated any city that didn’t have a twenty four hour grocery store or fitness center, but she needed more. She went to the foreign flicks at the indie movie theater, bought hand-thrown pottery at the tiny art galleries, was a rabid fan of Friday night jam poetry readings, and she had a standing date at Krispy Kreme on Saturday mornings. Of course she sure didn’t love the traffic and the big city gangs but nobody did.
This town was just too small. Main Street was a only couple miles long and everything closed at five in the evening; forget about weekend hours. Without a doubt, this was not the place she would ever feel at home, even if she didn’t have the bad memories to muddy the water. She couldn’t deny that Lane’s quiet kindness made her reconsider, just for a second, all her hatred of this place. But Romeo and Juliet would have nothing on them. Not that there was any chance of a ‘them’. He probably had a girlfriend, maybe even a wife.
Daisy let out a breath and took a long look at the reason she’d come back to Liberty. The quilt was so achingly familiar. Daisy dropped into one of the battered old reading chairs and let herself stare long and hard at her old friend. It took up most of the small wall near the window and was bordered in burgundy fabric. The books were set haphazardly on the shelves, nothing like the books in the real library. Daisy always thought it was a funny quilt and not just for the embroidered titles. Some books were lying down, some were tilted forward, and none of them were in order. When she was little she’d wanted to rearrange them so ‘Alice in Wonderland’ was before ‘Raggedy Ann and The Camel With The Wrinkled Knees’. That one especially made her laugh, since it was such a long title stitched in miniature on such a small book.
Daisy felt her heartbeat slow as she soaked in the atmosphere of this special place. So many dreams had been born here. She’d been loved and safe. Her eyes roamed the quilt, from corner to corner, and she gasped. Was that window … leaking? She bolted from her chair and stood on tiptoes, squinting. A water stain on the ceiling near the large windows spoke of previous leaks, but she couldn’t tell for sure. It was deathly quiet in the library and when she held her breath she heard it. A small, dull thud every few seconds.
Daisy bolted from the armchair and pushed it across the old pine flooring toward the quilt. She balanced one foot on each of the old arms, hoping it was sturdier than it looked. She had always been too skinny, lacking those curves that all the other girls had, but she wasn’t light as air, either. Carefully, she leaned forward, cringing at the creek of the wood underneath her feet. There, near the corner of the window, she could see water pooling and gathering until it finally fell with a small plop directly onto the far edge of the quilt. Panic jolted through her and she grabbed for the hooks that suspended the quilt.
One came loose easily and another tug brought the other side down. The quilt folded in on itself like a deflated balloon and Daisy stumbled down from the chair, twisting her ankle in her efforts not to step on the beautiful fabric. She ignored the flash of pain and gathered it to her, like a mother rescuing a baby.
She ran her hands over the top, feeling for dampness. It didn’t seem to be mildewed. Thank the Lord for small mercies. Surely today’s rainstorm wasn’t the first time the window had leaked. Holding it out, she admired the neat stitches and bright fabrics.
A sharpness nudged her hand and she turned it over, searching. A thick envelope was pinned to the back. Carefully unhooking the pin, her fingers trembled. Daisy. Her name was written on the front in a familiar hand, by a woman who was buried just that morning. It was a letter from Marie.
She slumped into the chair, envelope clutched in her hand. Maybe it was ten minutes, maybe only five, the time passed without meaning. Was it fear that kept her from opening the letter? Or was it the knowledge that if she did, the moment would pass, and it truly would be her last conversation with Marie? The light faded from the window and a chill crept up from the old floor. Daisy lifted the flap and drew out the neatly folded page. Her heart pounded in her chest and her tongue felt thick.
Dearest Daisy,
There are a few things I wish to tell you, now that I am gone. (Since this is pinned to your inheritance, I can only assume that is true.) There are no surprises in this letter, because you have heard all of this before. I don’t believe you were really listening but now that I’m gone, maybe you will take these words to heart.
Daisy, my girl, you are one of the kindest, gentlest, and most generous people I have ever known. Your spirit is bright, your heart is strong. You were made to love and be loved. –
The words swam before her eyes and Daisy laid the letter on her lap, unseeing. Marie had such faith in her, even now, that it felt almost like a burden. She couldn’t possibly know how strong her heart was, especially now that her only advocate was gone. And as for being ‘made to love and be loved’? Sure, she had friends back in Fresno, had dated a few guys. But love wasn’t her driving force. Her eyes squeezed shut, hot tears leaking out from under her lashes. She wasn’t even sure what her driving force was, now that she thought about it. Teaching was the obvious answer. She enjoyed it, was good at it, but certainly didn’t wrap her entire identity around it.
So, what do you do if you’re ‘made to be loved’? It would have been laughable if she could get enough breath past the ache in her throat. Marie was always saying stuff like that, as if it made perfect sense. Well, it didn’t. Not to her. She was made by a woman who didn’t bother to stick around and a man who loved his bottle more than his little girl. Not a lot of love there.
She sucked in a breath and straightened up. She read the letter through, loving every line. Marie to the end, she’d left her a box of books in the storage room.
Daisy opened the small door on the second floor and peered past the vacuum and the mop. There were a few boxes there marked ‘to sell at festival’. She opened each one. Trade paper fiction, mostly romance. Daisy frowned and wondered why Marie would have left her a few boxes of pulp fiction.
Shrugging, she left them where they were and went back downstairs. This letter was a beautiful gift and she would treasure it. But, like Marie said, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. A lot of nice words wouldn’t solve the problem she had at the moment. What mattered right now was getting Liberty Library back on track, financially and structurally. Running the summer reading program was going to keep her plenty busy while she worked on raising funds, so she wouldn’t even miss her friends in Fresno. She hoped. Spending the summer in Liberty was the very last thing she had planned on, and even now it seemed like something out of a dream. But the leaking roof, the drenching walk to the City Hall, and one handsome cop with gentle eyes told her it was all too real.
The city manager wasn’t interested in anything beyond her lunch dates and her photo opportunities but she’d get on board when her constituents decided to save the library. Lane Bennett’s face flashed through her mind, followed by a wave of unease. He thought the library was a lost cause, that was clear, but she would show him they could rally the community. It was the right thing to do. He would have to see that.
***
“Rookie! Where you been?” Butch Patrick called across the department office area, voice carrying like the PA system.
“Out.” Lane smiled, tossed his
hat on his desk and rubbed a hand through his damp hair. Rookie. Butch had joined the force last year, a full seven years after Lane. But Chief Branson’s nickname for Lane had stuck. Rookie he’d always be, probably right up until retirement.
“We got witnesses that saw you with a beautiful woman at city hall. Somebody from the tourism board?” Butch leaned over Lane’s desk, blond crew cut sticking straight up in the front. He always looked like a skinny, grown up version of Dennis the Menace.
“Nah. She was in town for Marie’s funeral. Wanted to talk to the city manager about the library.”
“She needed an escort? You can see city hall from that corner.”
Lane blew out a sigh. He didn’t have any good reason for walking her over and back, except that he’d wanted to know this girl that Marie had loved so much. He’d heard stories, been read snippets of letters and e-mails, been shown pictures. He felt like he knew her, somehow. It was like meeting someone famous. He got caught up in the curiosity. And she didn’t disappoint. Fiery, fierce, and apparently ready to take on the city.
“Lost you for a minute there, Rookie.” Butch perched on the edge of Lane’s desk and grinned.
“I’m gonna have Donna come give you a ticket if you park your hind end on my desk again.”
Butch straightened up with a snap. “Somebody’s having a bad day.”
The meter maid was the city’s bogey man. Teased hair, long nails, bright smile and as close as he’d seen to walking insanity. She was good at checking parked cars but not so good at keeping her personal life from spilling into chaos, mostly surrounding jealous ex-boyfriends. According to her, it was never her own fault.
“It’s been long, that’s for sure.” First the funeral, then Daisy, then the city manager. A flashback to the night they’d lost his brother was the topping on the day. Lane was ready to get home and take a hot shower.
The evening shift was checking in and getting some coffee. The men were comfortable with each other, easy tones testifying to old friendships. He loved his job and trusted his coworkers. But tonight he had one eye on the clock, ready to call it a day.
“So, who’s the pretty girl? Not giving out the details?” Butch rubbed his jaw and pretended to stick out his chest. “You think hiding her is going to give you a better chance, but once she gets a look at me, it’s all over.”
Lane raised an eyebrow in a wordless comment.
“Maybe I’m not so big in the looks department but I’ve got a certain charm.”
“That you do, my friend.” Cocky and irrationally cheerful, Butch was one of those guys that you just couldn’t take too seriously. “Anyway, she’s not staying. Maybe just for the summer, then she’s back to Fresno.”
“Fresno as in California?” He said it like it was the moon. A little curl to his upper lip pretty much summed up the local feeling about California. “Not one of those celebrities, is she?”
“I don’t think they hang out that far north.”
“Well, they come all the way to Aspen to have hot cocoa in a lodge, so it’s a valid question.”
Lane snorted. “She’s a teacher. She was real close to Marie.”
“Oh.” Butch lowered his gaze and scuffed a shoe against the floor. “I miss that old lady already. She always saved the new P.H. Thorn mysteries for me. Called me up as soon as they arrived, told me it would be waiting at the front desk with my name on it.”
They’d all known Marie was getting on in years. But somehow when she passed it had seemed sudden, a surprise, as if she hadn’t lived seventy-eight good years already. You always thought there was more time.
“I know what you mean. She had a great idea of what I liked. Not too serious, no true crime, no dirty words, science fiction, fantasy, all the new stuff.”
“I wonder who they’ll find to take her place? It just won’t be the same.”
Lane glanced up, surprised. “The city manager is closing it for good.”
If he hadn’t been standing, Butch would have jumped to his feet. “What? Denver’s got the nearest library and that’s thirty minutes away.” His voice had risen an octave.
“What’s closing?” Oliver Passel wandered over, mug of coffee steaming gently in his hand. He was one of the oldest officers on the evening shift; it was a young man’s hours. Twelve years of cruising the quiet Liberty streets at night while eating day old doughnuts from the break room had given him an unflappable calm and a large paunch.
“Rookie says the library’s shutting down.”
“Shoot. My kid is all signed up for the summer program.”
Lane held up a hand. “Wait, I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen. But what I do know is that Lindo is set to close it for good and Daisy is determined to keep it open.”
Oliver frowned. “Daisy McConnell? Rocky’s kid?”
He hid a grimace. That’s the way it was in a small town. You could be living your own life, in a big city, and when you come back to town, you’re always somebody’s kid. He liked Rocky. He was a good guy. But most people couldn’t forget the twenty years he’d spent as the town drunk.
Liberty was the closest thing to perfection Lane had ever seen, but he could only imagine how Daisy would feel being always known as ‘Rocky’s kid’. He’d made peace with being the Rookie. Somehow Daisy didn’t seem the type to submit to carrying Rocky’s name around with her, alongside all the bad memories of her years here.
“She was at the funeral but I didn’t recognize her. We met over at the library when she went to pick up something.” Met wasn’t really the word. She’d chased him down in heels, in the rain. “It’s a long story but she got wind of the city manager’s plans and now she’s got this idea it can be saved.”
“Of course it can. She’s right.” Butch pounded one fist into an open palm, ready to take on the task.
“It’s complicated. The building isn’t safe.”
“It’s condemned?” Oliver frowned, as if he couldn’t imagine a beautiful building like that having problems.
“Not quite. It’s got support issues and it needs a lot of money to fix.”
“Well, we better start fundraising because we can’t go without a library.” Oliver turned and walked back to his desk. Conversation over.
Great. He’d inadvertently converted Daisy’s first two supporters all by himself. Complicated was an understatement. And it was going to get even messier as the days wore on. The thought of the library having a structural failure made his stomach clench. If Daisy could see the light, then they could all move on from the pain of closing the library. Maybe there could be fundraising for a new building, a few years from now. As it was, pushing a lost cause would just prolong the pain for the kids.
Plus, she didn’t look like she was considering contacting Rocky at any time, so it was going to be awkward at the very best. Small town life wasn’t big enough to let two adults avoid each other for months on end. Eventually, they would meet up and there would be trouble.
He hauled in a breath and tried to focus on the phone messages in his inbox. Daisy needed to go home. But he had no idea how to convince her of that fact.
Chapter Five
“I think our connection is fuzzy. Say all of that again.”
Daisy smiled into the phone and didn’t pause while slipping on her shoes. Her best friend in Fresno was having a hard time believing the news. Completely understandable. She was having a hard time believing it herself.
“Ana, I’ve got to go check out a place that’s got a short summer lease and isn’t too expensive. Everything I said is true. I’m staying in Liberty.”
There was a long pause. Daisy could just imagine the curvy, dark haired young woman biting her lower lip, puzzling out this new development. Ana’s tone was careful, cautious. “You always said you hated that place. Did you meet someone? That would be sort of sudden. Not that I don’t believe in love at first sight. It’s totally romantic. But don’t give in like that just because you’re the woman. He should be able to pick up and m
ove as well as you can. Unless he’s the mayor or something.”
A laugh startled out of her at the thought of dating Mayor Featherstone, gray-haired and rotund. “No, not the mayor. It’s not a person. It’s a building.”
“If it was possible to be more confused, I would be.”
“Listen, I’ll give you the whole story in,” she checked her watch and let out a groan, “an hour. I was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. This old bed and breakfast doesn’t know what wake-up call means, apparently. I should have set the alarm on my phone.”
“Go on and check out it, but will you do one thing for me?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t hard to say that word, since Ana had proven herself to be witty, charming and most of all, wise.
“Don’t sign any papers or put down a deposit until you call me back. It’s not the ski season. They can wait an hour.”
“I promise.” Daisy snapped the phone closed and paused by the door of her room, evaluating her own reflection in the small decorative mirror. She pasted on a friendly smile. She looked like a tourist. They would probably charge her an arm and a leg. Then again, if it meant being mistaken for anybody other than Rocky’s daughter, she might just be all right with that. The ad stated the usual summer prices for weekly rentals of the little cabin but she was hoping they would see the value in lowering the price for a longer stay. A teacher’s salary couldn’t stretch to covering a city apartment and a mountain cabin. Wavy blond hair, dark green eyes, nice teeth, dress clothes. On the surface, pretty unremarkable. But to her own eyes, she looked angry. Her mouth had a tightness to it, a wariness in her eyes that translated into a smile not completely sincere. Of course, she’d rather look angry than scared. Irrational fear was what she really felt deep inside when she let herself imagine the days and weeks ahead in Liberty. The memories blended together into one big stew of anxiety, ready to overflow at any moment.
Taking a deep breath, she smiled wider. It was only for a summer. She could fake it for that long. Three months in the place of her nightmares was a small price to pay for protecting Marie’s legacy.
Leaving Liberty Page 3
