Page 117 of Knight

Her brows furrow before her smile grows wider. “Oh! Right! I’ve got great news!” she exclaims, her hands clapping together. “The library might not be going away, after all!”

“What? For real?” I ask and when she nods I can hardly believe it. I thought this place was a goner, along with my childhood. “Wow! What changed?”

“Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

A familiar voice booms from the brown office door behind Miss Angela.

“You won’t regret this decision.”

My brows lower, eyes narrowing. A very familiar voice. “Damien?” His name falls out of my mouth.

“Yes! You know him?” Miss Angela asks as the door behind her opens. “He’s a knight to our rescue!”

On cue, Damien comes out from the door looking like the boss he is. He’s in a black dress-shirt that clings to his frame, matching slacks and oxfords, coat hanging off his shoulders like a runway model. He looks dressed to tackle business in that chilling Damien demeanour. When he looks up, he looks as confused to see me as I am to see him. A couple of men in business suits come out behind him and they all shake hands while Miss Angela whips her head back and forth between us.

“I look forward to this project with you, Mr. King,” one of the older men says before they head towards the door. He smiles our way and Miss Angela gives him a wave. Damien doesn’t say anything until they’re both gone. I cross my arms, my eyes on him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes moving from Willow to me.

“Me?” I ask in return. “What are you doing here?”

My mind starts to race, the lines in Miss Angela’s forehead deepening before she says, “Of course, you two know each other. You’re both the stars of this library. My stars.”

“What?” Willow sounds like a zoned-out stoner, trying to piece this all together.

Miss Angela explains, “I thought this place was gone when we sold it to King Financial but they had bigger plans in-store. The renovations are a great idea!”

Wait. “You’re buying the library?” My head drops to the side, hair falling on my lip.

A smirk comes across his face. “We should talk.”

“You think?” I fire back.

Willow pipes up, “I know a place!”

* * *

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask.

We’re back at Anansi’s Kitchen, amidst the dinner rush and it feels surreal to have Damien here beside me, my sister across from us. Damien treats us to a full meal, giving Miss Anita a giant tip that has her gushing about her new favourite client. It’s easy to make friends in The Grove if you have money.

While Damien gets some looks from other patrons, he doesn’t seem bothered. Doesn’t try to act like he’s the King here either. It’s like something’s shifted, this news being the cherry on the pie.

“Didn’t know it was going to be a sure thing until today,” he says. “They were skeptical about letting me take over the plans. Which is fair. But when I found out that that library is a historic place, I knew there’d be more money in it. We can preserve some of that history while marketing it as a highlight.” He rambles on about the plans he has for the library and as he does, he’s sounding more ready for this job than I ever thought.

“It’ll help The Grove,” he continues, his fork digging into a pile of curried rice. I’m also impressed that he’s been downing this Caribbean meal like he’s accustomed to it. “Especially if we turn the back rooms into an auditorium, introduce a small cafe. There’ll be plenty more to see beyond books and the library can create some more revenue.”

“Wow,” is all I can say, my hand around a pineapple soda.

My sister giggles across from us and it’s hard not to nudge her with my foot because I know what she’s thinking. Her laugh sounds stifled when she says, “She’s so in love with you.”

Damien chokes on the ginger soda by his lips, brown liquid spurting onto the small square table. Willow’s eyes double in size and I reach over to see if he’s okay. Damien waves me off, Miss Anita coming over with a pitcher of water.

“You alright, darlen’?” she asks, patting him on his back like he’s one of her children.

He reaches for the glass. “Wrong tube.”

“White bwoy cyaan handle likkle spice,” she says in patois with a wink at me. Before she leaves, she gives him one more pat, turning to the kitchen. Willow giggles as he takes a chug of water.

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