Page 17 of My Book Boyfriend
I’m boxed in. Grandpa’s way doesn’t work anymore, but to win, I need to play his way. And yet, if we keep the Oasis Garden, we could immediately defuse these protests.
Time to call PR and up our game.
But playing his way would also mean not trusting Rowena.
Chapter five
Lily
IwavetoMirandaat the counter and head to the back where the book club meets. Banter & Books is busy today. Almost every table is taken, and Miranda has a line of patrons in front of her.
The book club is held in the rear conservatory, so called because of the slanted, glass-paned roof and the huge windows. A whitewashed, maple table, long enough for ten chairs to fit around, holds center stage. A row of bird of paradise plants shields the book club from the view of the rest of the patrons. Hanging plants break the expanse of windows. French doors lead out onto the small backyard, closed now for the winter. A vase with fresh hydrangeas decorates the table.
And there is Rupert. I stop short. The enemy.He glances up and lifts an eyebrow.
I lift an eyebrow back and take my seat across from him, placing my tabbed copy ofHe Had No Ideaon the table. And then I take out the copy he gifted me. I’d brought it to donate to the free library in the back.
“I can’t accept this.” I slide it across the table to him.
“Because I’m from Strive Developers?” he asks.
“Yes. So you know who I am?” I ask.
“I do now.”
“Did you know who I was then?”
“No. I wouldn’t have taken your last copy if I had known. And not when I bought that book for you either.” He slides the book back across the table to me.
I pick it up and shelve it in the free library. I take my seat back at the table. He frowns.
What is he doing here? Is he trying to curry favor with the locals? I didn’t expect him to be mixing with the plebians.
Maybe he’s doing some on-the-ground research.
I’m sure he didn’t expect us to find a lawyer so quickly (thank you, Tessa) and file counterclaims. Another community garden was recently victorious in court, and the judge ruled that an environmental impact statement was required. And as Maddie noted when creating her press talking points, community gardens are lacking in our neighborhood. Clearly, this proposed development would remove yet another one. We have a fighting chance at winning.
Our lawyer is working pro bono so we don’t have to worry about the legal expenses. We’ve also raised some funds from families in the neighborhood, and Miranda’s painting will raise some more money, giving us a cushion.
OurTalkTackvideo has gone viral, and Jade has gotten even more friends to create shorts. I came up with another idea for a new dancing one today after school—with the bridge players and the toddlers. The teenagers did cartwheels off the handles of the walkers and the baby strollers. I convinced a nearby gym that offers parkour classes to use the garden as their playground, and they agreed to be filmed. Wait until that video hitsTalkTack. I chuckle. Maddie’s colleague is writing an article about the garden and all the community support for it.
Really, Mr. Rupert Evans should be at the office worrying about this bad media coverage.
Unless it doesn’t matter.
It’s a large group today, with two women I don’t know and two other men. Bella and Jing are already seated. Iris is there, her laptop open on the table, that huge scarf warmer next to it. I forgot to tease her about it last time. She closes the lid as I move the vase of hydrangeas to the windowsill behind me. I sit across from her. Maddie joins us a few minutes later, grabbing the last seat next to me.
I take out my list of questions. Bella’s handwriting is scrawled across the top with her first question. She always wants to know what attracts people to a book. I ask everyone to introduce themselves.
“Why did you pick up the book?” I ask.
Rupert says, “She’s one of my favorite authors, but also because it was about a bunch of old friends who’d fallen out but who were trying to reignite that old spark. And that last sentence in the blurb." He picks up the book and reads it aloud: "'When one of them is murdered, it reveals all the fissures underlying their relationships.'”
Yes.
“Same,” says the woman next to Rupert, leaning toward him and smiling.
I probably looked like that at the library.
