Page 15 of I Met Him At The Library

“She helped me pick out a planter, since I’m evidently going to propagate the one plant I have,” Ryan took advantage of the cookie distraction putting us back on track with our shopping trip.

“Oh the one you managed not to kill,” Preston teased.

“Pothos are hard to kill,” Emily stated.

“I love Pothos for that reason,” Meghan agreed.

The conversation moved on, but I could feel Meghan’s eyes pinballing between me and Ryan. She quickly figured out Ryan knew about my actual job, but because of Preston, she wouldn’t ask any additional questions until we were alone. Then, I’d get an earful and the possible pep talk about how I should go public.

Typically, anyone trying to tell an author they should go public with their pen name was a big no-no. Meghan was supportive either way. My books had reached a certain point of popularity that going public, and attending author signing events, could propel my career even further. Meghan wanted that for me, but I wasn’t so sure.

She wanted me to be as successful as I could be, but I was content with where I was in my success. I was able to maintain the privacy I so desperately needed in order to live under the radar here, but still made enough money that I could easily support myself.

After our meal, our little group went our separate ways. Back at my apartment, I was relieved all was quiet in the apartment above mine. After brewing a pot of coffee, I sat down at my desk and skimmed over the last chapter I wrote.

This was my happy place. This was where I was most at ease - in front of my laptop, writing. As long as I could continue to do this, I would be happy. Revealing my face to the public would complicate things. It could make my life here rather difficult. Writing in secret was more comfortable, even if it meant I wouldn’t go as far as I could.

Chapter 9

Ryan

After shopping with Emily on Saturday, I spent all of Sunday reading the books she recommended. Surprisingly, I was enjoying them. I mean the sex parts were … well, hot, but the world building, the struggles, and the feelings were what sucked me in.

I had already read through two of the twenty-one books, and I brought the third in my bag for down time at the library. However, when I logged into my computer and checked my email, my good mood was shattered. There was a notice from the mayor’s office about an upcoming council meeting regarding funding, and I only had a week to put together my arguments.

Our library was important to the community, and, yet again, I needed to argue with people who never stepped foot in our library to prove it. We ran after school study programs with the kids in town, a couple of book clubs met in the rooms on the weekends, and we ran literacy programs to help school age kids learn to read and comprehend stories better. All of these things were vital for such a small community in order to give the kids a better chance at success later. Plus, there were always people, mostly in our romance section, checking out books. The town had many avid readers in it, but what else was there to do in the small town besides read, go to the only bar, or go to church?

Unfortunately, there was a lot of nepotism in the politics of our small town. The Hill family basically controlled everything. William, the oldest in the family, was the pastor at the only church in town. His brother, David, was the mayor and had been for a long time. Their father was the mayor and their uncle was the pastor before them. The Hills had ruled this town since its founding.

Unfortunately, we went through this budget argument almost every year. Last year they decreased our funding, choosing to direct the money toward a food pantry run by the church instead. They did it without informing the constituents that they were planning to. The town initially fought for the library and the funding it received long before even Betsy was here, but the people took it for granted now. Every time our funding was lowered, I had to find a way to make up for the loss.

I would fight the best I could, but another drop in funding would leave me scrambling to figure out other ways to make up the financial burden. I’d be back to contacting trust holders and endowment programs, but I didn’t have a lot of luck last year with it. Who, outside of our small town, cared about a library serving only a couple thousand people? Most small towns didn’t have a library at all. Outside of Fairwood, none of the towns surrounding us had a library and would come to ours instead.

As I began pulling reports for the council meeting, my mind drifted back to Emily. She’d be arriving in an hour or so. Maybe it was a good thing the notice came through this morning. She’d want to focus on her writing. With my mind being focused on building a case to keep library funding, I wouldn’t bother her as much.

She was damn near irresistible, and if I didn’t find myself busying my mind and hands, I’d end up sitting next to her again just to have the chance to speak with her. I needed to cool my jets before I scared her off with my pursuit.

Refocusing on my task, the mayor hadn’t given me much time to put together a group of people who could lend support at the meeting, but I’d try to do that. I got to work drafting an email to send to all library card holders. With any luck we’d have at least a few people show up in support for the library.

I’d never sent an email about library funding before, afraid it would cause more waves, But desperate times called for desperate measures. I wasn’t only trying to save the library for the many people who utilized it. I was trying to save my job and the life I was trying to build here.

A few hours later, I finally emerged from my office.

“Another funding cut?” Betsy asked, concern drawn over her expression.

She must have read the email I sent out. “Looks like it. I’m hoping we can garner enough support, and people show up to the council meeting.”

“When David finds out about that email, he won’t be happy,” Betsy cautioned.

Thinning my lips, my voice hardened, “I can’t imagine threatening the library funding would look good for his reelection. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to redirect the money to his brother’s church again. The people in this town should know what he’s doing - what they’re doing.”

I didn’t know for sure if this latest round of threatened cuts to our funding would be directed to the church, but I could guess it would be. It always was.

“Agreed, but fighting fire with fire could burn the whole town down. Be careful,” Betsy warned.

I nodded, because a part of me recognized she was right. My email was strongly written - half because of the anger bubbling up in me over the unfairness of it all, the other half because of my strong sense of right and wrong.

I didn’t complain when funding was going toward the church’s food pantry, but there were rumors the church wanted to take over the literacy programs, and I drew the line there. Those programs were best handled by the library.

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