Page 11 of The Library of Second Chances
Aside from the quick win, the incredible history of Heron Isle had also attracted him to this job. Historic preservation had been his minor in college, and he’d always taken great care to preserve what he could in each city where he’d worked. He’d been delighted to learn the project wouldn’t involve the demolition or relocation of any historic buildings.
The Waterway Café was the only building on the chopping block, and it had no historic value. It was built by the city in the early nineties in an attempt to generate more revenue, but between the below-market lease the restaurant enjoyed as a result of a poorly written contract decades prior—that kept automatically renewing—and the upkeep required for a wooden building that sat right on the water, the entire venture had become a burden on the city.
Logan scowled as he thought again of how Lucy Sullivan had tried to demonize him in front of Mildred Banks and the others. He was used to locals who opposed his plans, but they didn’t usually look like Lucy. When he first met her, he’d loved how excited she got talking about the history of the old dentist’s building, her shoulder-length blonde curls bouncing with her movements. She’d been bubbly and cheerful, the kind of person who seemed to never have a bad day.
As it turned out, she had an entirely different side, and he imagined that was all he’d get to see now—the Lucy who thought he was a soulless outsider looking to destroy their precious town.
The coffee shop was empty when he arrived except for the woman behind the counter and Mayor Jenkins, who sat at a table by the window eating a pastry while he read the paper.
“Mayor.” Logan nodded as he entered. “You’re up and about early.”
“Please, you can call me George when we’re not on the clock.” He motioned for Logan to join him. “I sit here every morning to drink my coffee and catch up on the latest news. The residentsall know they can find me here if they need to talk.” He folded his paper, giving Logan his attention. “Reminds them that I’m one of them, a local who’s lived here most of my life and drinks coffee and reads the paper just like they do.”
The waitress took Logan’s order for an iced coffee and hurried back behind the counter to get it.
“Did we make the headlines?” Logan asked. No doubt the top news in a small town like this would have to be the surprise announcement of his presence at the meeting last night.
The mayor chuckled. “Not yet. Our paper only comes out on Wednesdays and Fridays. Not enough news around here to support a daily.” He tapped a finger on the paper he’d folded neatly on the table. “This one’s the Jacksonville paper. They don’t really cover us, but it keeps me up to speed on what’s going on in northeast Florida.”
That gave Logan one more day before he could read what some local reporter would say about him and his intentions for Heron Isle.
“So how do you think it went?” Logan tested the waters, curious if the reception from the locals was what he’d expected.
“Well, I’m not sure you made any friends.” The mayor smiled as he rocked back in his chair and folded his hands over his robust middle. “But I didn’t think you would. Not yet anyway. You’re a charming fellow, though. I think you’ll have no problem winning them over in the end.”
Logan nodded, but wasn’t convinced charm would be enough. It had worked on Mildred, but Lucy certainly seemed immune.
“I ran into Lucy Sullivan—a couple times yesterday, actually,” he said. Her big brown eyes flashed before him. Clearing his throat to bring himself back to the present, he asked, “What’s her story?” Not that he cared. He was only askingfor business reasons so he would know how best to get her on his side.
“Ahh, Lucy.” The mayor shook his head. “Means well, but she can be overly passionate sometimes. She’s a bona-fide local, born and raised here. Her daddy was from here too. I think she’s third or fourth generation. Poor thing. Her mother left when she was young. Just packed her bags one day and was gone.”
The mayor frowned. “Lucy always had her nose in a book after that. Annie over at the bookstore took her under her wing, and Lucy inherited the store when Annie passed. She fought like heck to save the public library, but the building was in such a state of disrepair it was a lost cause. There wasn’t any other space downtown big enough, so we had to shut it down. Lucy was devastated. She’s also fought this waterfront development tooth and nail.”
So she was a champion of lost causes? She probably had a house full of abandoned animals. Logan sipped his iced coffee as he pictured what Lucy’s house might look like. He imagined it was full of antiques, and she probably had a story that went along with each one. He saw himself walking through with her, watching the excitement in her eyes as she told him about each one. He was just picturing her curling up in a window seat surrounded by her knickknacks, a book in hand and her blonde hair falling in her face, when the mayor interrupted his thoughts.
“Have you seen the little library?” The mayor flicked his head toward the park across the street.
Logan nodded, not admitting just how well he’d been getting to know it.
“It was Lucy’s idea.” The mayor laughed. “The first one was small, like a dollhouse, but it was so popular she and Bob—he owns the hardware store—got permission to build the walk-in structure. They modeled it after a house that used to sit at theend of the town square. It burned down decades ago, but it’s the house we use for the town logo.”
Mayor Jenkins continued with a history lesson on some of the most notable Victorian-era homes in town. Logan decided he should sign up for one of the history tours at the small three-room museum over on 3rd Street. After all, the historic buildings were half the reason he’d convinced himself he could make the best of this job on Heron Isle.
When he’d finished his coffee with the mayor, Logan headed toward the fountain in the square. He’d admired the craftsmanship of the Little Free Library the first time he visited, but he wanted a closer look now that he knew more about its story.
After he rounded the fountain and continued on the sidewalk north, he spotted the cream-colored miniature Victorian house on the right of the path near a bench. A giant live oak draped its long arms over the sidewalk, Spanish moss hanging over the sides and swaying in the breeze. He stopped to admire the intricate gingerbread detailing outlining every door and window of the library. It really was remarkable craftsmanship.
He opened the door and stepped inside and immediately went to look through the books on the ledge on the back wall. Whoever maintained the library—Lucy or Bob maybe?—had been skipping shelving the books he and Island Girl had left addressed to each other. His heart began pounding as he realized there was a new book addressed to him about Zelda Fitzgerald. He opened it to read her note.
Dear Gatsby’s Ghost,
You’ve read Scott’s version of events, so I thought you might enjoy what one writer imagined Zelda’sstory might have been. She was so glamorous, but at the same time so sad. She always wanted something more, but she never found happiness.
She has been overlooked in death in much the same way she was in life, and that is perhaps the saddest thing of all.
I see a bit of myself in Zelda. I know what it is to feel unheard, overlooked, and even unloved. To want things beyond my reach.
And even though I knew the ending, I couldn’t help but hope that somehow the story ended differently.
