Page 88 of Someone to Have
I haven’t done anything wrong, and while my enthusiasm for creating new library initiatives hasn’t made me the most popular staff member with our old-fashioned director, I’m a good employee, and the patrons appreciate my efforts. There’s no reason to think he’s going to reprimand me for some non-existent slight. I can give myself all the pep talks in the world, but my palms are still sweaty when I sit across from his desk.
“Your StoryWalk project was due to be installed this week,” he says, removing his wire-rimmed readers and polishing them with the hem of his well-worn sweater.
“It’s ready to go.” I gesture toward the trees still covered with snow outside the window. “The storm delayed us, but I’m going to get it in as soon as everything melts. The ground is frozen, so we can’t dig holes for the permanent concrete fixtures. But I’ve devised a temporary method so we don’t have to wait until spring to set things up. I talked to Todd at the Nature Center, and as long as we’re ready to go before their annual winter fun run next weekend, he’s happy.”
Don’s already thin lips purse. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Everyone seems happy with your work.”
He offers the compliment begrudgingly, but I smile. “Thank you. I appreciate hearing that.”
“You know I’m retiring this spring.”
“We’ll miss you.” I manage to say the words without cringing. “You’ve done so much for the library district.”
“The cutoff for applications for the director’s position is this afternoon,” he says, like I don’t know that.
“I’m sure we have some qualified candidates.” I don’t necessarily think his pet staff member, Aaron, is one of them, but it’s not my place to mention that.
“You’re not among them,” he says.
Oh wow, that was harsh.
“I didn’t?—”
He holds up a hand. “I meant that as a question. Why isn’t your application among them?”
“Um…” Wasn’t expecting that. “Based on my annual reviews and evaluations, I had the impression you wouldn’t consider me for the role.”
“Do you think you’d be successful in the role?”
I drop my gaze to where he’s drumming his fingers on the top of the desk. If he’d asked me a month ago, I would havesaid I’m not interested, even though that’s a lie. “Yes, I think I’d do a very good job.”
“What about the public speaking aspect?”
“I’ve been working on my…” Let’s call it what it is. “...social anxiety, and I think I could handle being the primary face of the library.”
“You think, or you know?”
His expression gives nothing away, and I can’t tell if he’s waiting for me to crumple, or if he wants me to stand up for myself. Crumpling is my go-to, of course. That penchant is magnified by the fact that in some ways, Don reminds me of my dad—gruff, forthright, judgmental. I know my father loves me, but when he turned that steely blue gaze on me as a kid, my stomach would flip and twirl like a loose piece of paper being whipped and shredded by a harsh wind.
But Don isn’t my dad, and I’m no longer a painfully shy little girl. I’m just a run-of-the-mill introvert, and that’s not a shortcoming in my mind. Not anymore.
“IknowI could do a good job,” I say and internally pat myself on the back because I sound like I mean it.
“Then I expect to see your application submitted today,” he says.
Oh, wow. Didn’t expect that either. Thinking I can do a good job and applying for that job are two different things.
“I’m not the only one interested in seeing you as a candidate. Several library board members have reached out to express their confidence in you as well.”
Confidence? As well? Which means my boss, who barely gives me the time of day, is confident I can do it? And there are board members who feel the same?
My fingers tingle as I try to process this information. I willnothave a panic attack right now.
“That’s all,” he says when I continue to stare at him. “Unless you have something more to add.”
I shake my head and swallow around the lump of emotion lodged in my throat. “I’ll get my application in by tonight,” I tell him as I get to my feet, hoping my knees onlyfeellike they're shaking. My heart is thumping, but I offer another smile. “Thank you, Don. I appreciate your confidence, and I promise?—”
“Just submit it, Taylor,” he says, then switches his gaze to the desktop monitor.
