Everybody Knows (Sunnyside #1)

by Jacie Floyd

  “I’ll look into it, ma’am .” His clipped tone made Harper’s shoulder’s slump.

  Just when she thought she’d gotten off to a good start with at least one person, she had to go and offend him by accusing kids in his town of causing some of this damage. And he didn’t look too happy about Harper telling him how to do his job either.

  After the three official visitors left, work got seriously underway. Harper was knee-deep in piles of books when a slim Indian girl sought her out. The beautiful soft green of her sari enhanced the creamy mocha of her skin.

  “Pardon the interruption,” she said, with a lilting accent and quiet dignity. “I am Daxina Patel, and I am looking for the new librarian?”

  “That would be me.” Harper smiled and wiped her hands on her shorts. “Harper Simmons. Welcome to the library.”

  “Thank you, I’m here to talk to you about cleaning the library.”

  “Great, we can use all the help we can get.”

  “Help, yes.” Daxina paused a moment to look at the bustle all around her. “But at this moment, no.”

  Nonplussed, Harper agreed. “Okay, then, if you want to help on another day, I’ve started a signup sheet with days and hours over on the Circulation Desk.”

  “I’ll sign up before I go,” Daxina said. “But I’m here to talk to you about my brother’s job.”

  “Who is your brother? And what is his job?”

  “My family owns the local QuickStop. My brother, Bilal, was moonshining as the library’s night custodian. Is that the right word? Moonshine?”

  “I think you mean moonlighting as the library’s night custodian. Working a second job at night.”

  “Ah, yes, that is what I mean. He would like to have his job back if you are going to hire someone again.”

  “Ah.” Harper was happy to finally see a connection. “Why are you here instead of your brother?”

  “He is out of town today. He will come and help with the renovations as soon as he has returned. Several members of my family took turns covering his shift when he was unable to work. The library board didn’t object to this practice so long as the work was done and someone appeared when scheduled.”

  “When did he quit working for the library?”

  “He didn’t. At first, when the library closed, we continued to keep the library in good cleanliness, but the library board had no more money. The town council, they stop paying Bilal, so he stopped coming.”

  Harper’s temper spiked at the council’s irresponsibility. “When was that?”

  “In March, about two months after the library closed. My family thought the library would still need our services, but Mr. Whitherford said no.”

  She would see if her budget could cover the payment to Bilal’s family for the work they had done. She’d discuss it in her next conversation with Andrew Berkman. “Where is Bilal that he couldn’t come in today?”

  “He is in Urbana at the University.” Her quiet lilting accent enhanced her words.

  “Does he work there, too?”

  “No.” Daxina lifted her head with pride. “He goes to school. Most often, he takes the classes online, but sometimes he must attend in person. That is when my other brother or another family member works in his place.”

  “I can’t make any promises, because this is the first I’ve heard of your brother. But I’ll hold the position open for Bilal while I look into it.”

  “Thank you, we are most grateful.” Daxina turned to leave but hesitated. “If you will be hiring, I also would like a job at the library.”

  “In what capacity?”

  “I am skillful with computers. I would be useful in that way.”

  “That’s something every library needs, but we’re a long way from setting up computers. There’ll be notices placed in all the appropriate places when we’re ready to take applications.” She moved to her laptop on the Circulation Desk and made a note in the folder on employment requests.

  The woman’s serene face creased in concern. “But you will consider me when it is time?”

  “If you have the necessary qualifications.”

  “Yes, I do, thank you,” she said, still reserved, but clearly relieved. “I would very much like to work in this communal place of knowledge.”

  “That’s how I feel about it, too.”

  Well. Maybe she’d finally met someone who would be a friend.

  Shortly before noon, Harper left Liam in charge, rushed back to Rachel’s, washed up, and changed into more professional clothing. She teamed a crisp white blouse and a black and white geometric-patterned skirt with some classy Christian Louboutin knock-offs because nothing shouted confidence like sassy red soles.

  She refashioned her hair into a French twist, applied a smattering of makeup she feared would melt away as soon as she hit the wall of heat outside, popped in some earrings, and clasped on a chunky necklace that always brought her luck, She was ready to go.

  Or as ready as she would ever be.

  Harper had participated in a Skype interview with five members of the Sunnyside Town Council and the mayor before Andrew Berkman officially hired her. Now that she’d met, Mick, Bert, and Zach, that left only four unfamiliar officials.

  Entering the meeting room of the Administration Building, Harper noted the lackluster room space off vibes more like a DMV than a power seat of local government. Mick and Bert were seated at a substantial U-shaped table along with the four others. Her spirits dipped with Zach’s absence.

  The nine or ten other people occupying the room looked up and gawked at Harper, but no one came forward to greet her, not even the rumpled guy slumped in the corner of the room with a load of equipment that she pegged as a reporter.

  Harper took a seat on one of the folding chairs that lined the room and sized up the council members. These people could go a long way in making or breaking the next few years for her.

  The grant money was hers to use as she saw fit—within reason. The council would oversee all expenditures and approve or reject expenses over a certain amount. If they didn’t approve of her or weren’t in the mood to cooperate, they could make her job very difficult.

  Mick occupied the seat of prominence. His tractor-logo ball cap sat on the table in front of him. He reviewed a stack of papers and made notes on a legal pad while chatting with Bert Marshall.

  Behind Mick a young, fresh-faced girl sat at a table. Several locals hovered around her. From the bits and pieces Harper overheard, it sounded like they were asking to have a topic put on the day’s agenda. They each spoke to the girl in turn and then took a seat. They noticeably left several empty chairs on either side of Harper.

  At five minutes before twelve, Mick checked his watch, removed his glasses, and stood. He rounded the table and came toward Harper with his hand extended. “As Sunnyside’s Mayor, I’m also chairman of the town council. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

  “Ready when you are.”

  He waved her toward the meeting table. “First, meet Barbara Gentry, the only woman currently serving on the council. And let me tell you, she keeps the rest of us in line.” The fifty-ish woman with steel-gray hair stood. She had an almost crushing handshake. Her toned body, full and firm, was covered in a denim skirt and an American Flag T-shirt. Her feet were shoved into red, white, and blue tennis shoes. She was either very patriotic or this was her salute to Independence Day.

  The woman exuded manic energy and competency. “Hello. I hear you’ve already met my daughter.”

  “Have I?” Harper’s heart skipped a beat. She had so hoped to make a good impression on these people, but what were the chances of that if her run in with her neighbor was already widely known? “And who is that?”

  “Brianna Dempsey. She lived across the street from you.”

  “Yes, we met last evening.” Without anything positive to say about the daughter, Harper tried another tactic. “Her three children and dog are adorable.”

  “They
are, aren’t they? Grandchildren are a blessing, Ms. Simmons. One of the only good things about getting older, as far as I can tell. Everything else is just failing eyesight, sagging body parts, and regrets about what might have been.”

  Down the table, Bert suddenly started coughing.

  “You okay, Bert?” the Mayor asked.

  “Yeah, Bert. You okay?” Barbara lifted an eyebrow, handed him a bottle of water, and moved down to pat him on the back—where her palm eased up to caress the nape of his neck.

  Next up was a tall, thin guy with a big nose and oily black hair. He looked like an actor auditioning for The Sopranos. Wearing dark polyester pants and a skinny black tie, he topped the outfit with the badly misnamed “short-sleeved dress shirt.” Everyone in the fashion industry knew that dress shirts were not short-sleeved.

  Introduced as Nelson Whitherford, Harper could only think of him as Mr. Slick. His slimy handshake was a little too friendly, prompting her with the urge to wipe off her hands. “Honored,” he said but shifted his gaze away from hers.

  Next came Daniel Asher. Younger than the others by far, probably early thirties like Zach. With one hand, he’d been scrolling through an electronic tablet in front of him. With the other, he clutched a cell phone. He set down both devices long enough to stand and meet Harper.

  “I’m also President of the Chamber of Commerce, Ms. Simmons, and have an insurance agency here in town.” He slipped his card into her hand. “Let me know if I can be of assistance to you in any way during your stay in Sunnyside.”

  The slender man wearing baggy shorts with his leg in a cast was Malcolm Newcomb. Hard-working, conscientious, well-meaning, and supportive, but not a rule-breaker. Or a leader.

  In his turn, Malcolm pumped her hand a little too long, like an eager puppy wagging his tail. “I apologize for not meeting you last night. Zach said he welcomed you in my place and everything worked out fine.”

  “Absolutely. How are you feeling today?”

  “Still experiencing a lot of pain.” He tapped his cast with a metal crutch. “Didn’t want to take another pain pill until after the meeting today, but I’ll be happy when I can get back home and lie down again.”

  “Good idea, Mal,” Mick agreed. “We won’t wait for Zach. He has a lot on his plate today. We’ll catch him up later. And you’ve already met Bert.” GQ man gave her a jaunty salute. “If you’ll take a seat, Harper, we’ll have the call to order. Are you ready, Cassie?”

  The sweet-looking girl came forward. Moving into the seat on Mick’s left, she carried a folder, clipboard, and pen. “Ready, Daddy.”

  Sliding his bifocals into place, he took the clipboard from her. “Miss Simmons, this is my daughter Cassie. She’s a court stenographer and secretary for the council meetings.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Simmons.” She gave Harper the friendliest smile she’d received in the town so far. “Love your shoes.”

  Mitch shook his head fondly when everyone else laughed. “Cassie’s role of secretary is an honorary position. she’s here to record the minutes of the meeting. However, this isn’t a closed-door meeting. She can participate if she chooses to, as may any other citizen of the town. Those who wish to introduce a new topic are encouraged to fill out a petition to have their request placed on the agenda before the start of the meeting.”

  With a bang of the gavel, he began. “This meeting is officially called to order.”

  He then issued a formal welcome to Harper. “I hope you’ll join the council for lunch after today’s meeting. We’ll adjourn to my law office across the street, where we can chat informally and begin getting acquainted.”

  With so much to do at the library, Harper would have preferred to refuse, but decided getting to know the council members was important, too. She’d attend the luncheon and eat fast. “Thank you, I’d be delighted.”

  He then invited her to a social hour in her honor and a softball-game-slash-bake-sale-fundraiser for the library during the Fourth of July celebration on Wednesday. A softball-game-slash-bake-sale-fundraiser? Yes, please! Just the kind event she’d been looking forward to. And how generous of them to have a fundraiser to benefit the library. Extra money for operating costs would always be appreciated.

  “The festival lasts all day and almost every able-bodied person attends,” Barbara explained. “There are food booths, rides, games, and fireworks. The Man versus the People softball game is one of the highlights.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Today’s luncheon and tomorrow’s celebration would provide her with the opportunity to begin making a place for herself in the community.

  “I understand Zach met you at his uncle’s house last night,” Mick said. “How’d that go? Does it meet your expectations?”

  “The house exceeds my expectations,” she assured him. “Maybe you haven’t heard about the issue with the floors, though.”

  As she explained the situation, Zach appeared, carrying a small brown bag. He winked at her, took the empty seat at the big table, and provided details about the floors and Harper’s temporary lodging at Rachel’s.

  “Ah.” Mick looked at her over his glasses. “That explains the reports about the two of you wandering through back alleys last night. Are you satisfied with this arrangement, Miss Simmons?”

  “I am.” She resisted the urge to raise her right hand, like a witness under oath.

  “Save your receipts for any expenses you incur while you’re waiting for access to your permanent residence. You’ll be reimbursed, within reason, through funds from the grant. When will the house be ready?”

  “Should be tomorrow,” Zach said. “I stopped by there on my way here. That’s why I was late.”

  “Keep us informed of any further delays,” the mayor instructed Zach and then turned to Harper. “Now, about the current condition of the library. After viewing its deplorable state this morning, I understand why it was necessary to call in volunteers and put them to work before submitting a report and waiting for our approval, but that will be the standard procedure in the future.”

  “I understand.” Unless she was mistaken, his tone contained a hint of disapproval. “Zach and I toured the building last night and discovered its condition was well beyond the shabby neglect I’d been led to expect. We both agreed, as did Andrew Berkman, that it needed immediate attention.”

  “It’s not that bad.” Nelson flapped his tie when all eyes turned in his direction. “At least, it wasn’t when we closed it last fall.”

  “If by ‘not that bad’, it’s all right that homeless people have camped out in it, building the occasional small fire, water has leaked from an unknown source ruining most of the books, wood finishings, and drywall, and graffiti artists have painted most of the first floor, then I guess you’re right. It’s not that bad.”

  Nelson stared at her indignantly. “How did that happen?”

  The rest of the council shook their heads or shrugged. “It’s true.” Zach leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs. “We voted to discontinue maintenance on the building when the new budget went into effect at the beginning of the year, but the Sheriff’s Department was going to maintain regular patrols. And wasn’t Bilal Patel going to check on the interior once a month? Why didn’t he report that the property was being disrespected, vandalized, and otherwise ruined?”

  More shrugs and head shakes.

  An elderly lady chose that moment to stand and speak. “Sorry to interrupt, Mick, but my granddaughter, Amy, said she’s heard some of the other kids have been sneaking in there at night to party. She said if the sheriff patrolled there at all, he didn’t pay them much mind. Just thought you should know.”

  “Thank you for the information, Martha.” He made a note on his yellow legal pad. “I would have liked to have known about this several months ago.”

  “Just heard about it a couple of days ago myself.” The older woman shrugged and sat back down. “Thought you knew. Seemed like everyone else did.”

&nbs
p; While the others gave Martha their full attention, Nelson kept his gazed fixed on his phone.

  “Bilal’s sister came to see me this morning.” Harper explained about Bilal being told his services wouldn’t be needed after he had already cleaned for several weeks and then not getting paid for those final weeks. “Why wasn’t he told you weren’t going to continue paying?”

  Chapter Eight

  All heads turned to Mr. Slick. His eyes darted right and left, and then he shrugged. “The building was closed. Why did he think we’d need him to continue to clean?”

  “We agreed we wanted him to check on the place periodically,” Zach said. “Wasn’t that made clear?”

  “There wasn’t any money for that,” Nelson countered.

  “A small monthly payment would have been a better use of funds than this renovation we’ll have to pay for now,” Mick said. “I’m waiting on Jimbo’s report about this situation, and I’ll ask him about the patrols before the day is out.”

  “Are you sure you’re not exaggerating about all this, Miss Simmons?” Nelson had the audacity to ask.

  “She’s not.” Zach leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. “I saw the evidence myself, and I was the one who made calls for volunteers to help clean up the mess this morning. The building should have never been allowed to fall into its current state of disrepair or the basic cleanup should have occurred before Har”—he cut himself off and cleared his throat—“Miss Simmons arrived. This will require more money than previously planned as well as delay the reopening.”

  “Bert and I went by there this morning, too,” Mick said. “It’s pretty bad.”

  “I’ll run over and see it for myself this afternoon. But much as I respectfully disagree with Nelson about everything else, he’s right about one thing. There’s no money in the budget for this,” Barbara Gentry stated. “The expenses will have to come out of the grant’s budget, not the town’s.”

  “I looked at the library’s insurance policy. Most of the damages will be covered by that. Dr. Novak and I took a lot of pictures last night, and Sheriff Bowman took more for his report before we started any of the cleanup.” Harper glanced down to consult her notes.