Minestrone soup?”
“Yes, please,” Mrs. Battle said. “Take your time.”
Alana disappeared into the office to grab her purse. Once down the steps, she shouldered the enormous bag and set off down the sidewalk. He didn’t have to ease up on his stride so she could keep up. She gave him an expectant glance as they crossed Main Street. “I just came from Gunther Jensen’s place. It was broken into this morning while he was visiting his sister at the nursing home.”
“That’s terrible,” she said.
That was life. That kept guys like him in enough work to last a lifetime. “They wrecked it pretty badly, took some jewelry, a laptop, some cash.” He waited while she processed this. “Gunther lives about a mile from Cody’s place.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at him. “Cody was waiting outside the library this morning. He was nearly blue with cold. I’d say he’d been outside for quite a while.”
“He have a car?”
“I didn’t see one in the lot,” Alana said.
So the kid probably walked the six miles from the trailer to the library, a long trip in the cold damp spring air, but staying out of jail was a good motivator. If he’d even spent the night at home. He could have been outside all night, except his clothes were clean, if worn and a size too small. “Okay,” he said, filing the details away.
He held the door to Gina’s Diner for her. Everyone noticed them walk in together, but conversation didn’t stop. He was her landlord, and everyone local would know about Cody’s arrest and community service. That and their public-service roles were enough reason for them to be together, if anyone asked, which would keep her happy.
Gina slid the plastic menus back into the caddy when he said they were getting food to go. He ordered a burger and fries. Alana ordered lasagna, two cups of minestrone soup and extra rolls, and two slices of pecan pie.
“Mrs. Battle loves pecan pie,” she confided as she dug in her bottomless pit of a purse for her wallet.
“I’ve got it,” he said, and handed over cash for the meals and a tip.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Did you skip breakfast?” he asked when Gina brought out two white sacks of food.
“I gave my breakfast to Cody,” she said.
He just shook his head at her naiveté. Defensive color stood high on her cheekbones, or so he thought, until she added, “Let me make you dinner tonight. As a thank-you for lunch.”
It wasn’t defensive color. It was nerves. The shy librarian was asking him on a date. A quiet date at her house. A quiet, private date at the house where she had kissed him, and something about the secrecy rubbed him the wrong way. This wasn’t who he was, a man who did things on the sly for any reason at all.
“Sure,” he said.
“Is six too early?”
“Six is fine,” he said.
“You can bring Duke over if you want,” she said with a smile. “I promise I won’t ask you to fix the bathroom sink again.”
3
A LANA STOOD IN the pasta/canned goods aisle of Hooper’s Market, an empty plastic basket in one hand and her phone in the other, waiting for her e-mail to download. When the wheel stopped spinning, she knew why it had taken so long. She had e-mail from Marissa Brooks, which meant pictures.
Hey, Alana—
Thanks for the picture of the Main Street planters. I always knew spring had arrived when the planters went out. Are the prairie crocuses blooming? Has the council hired a replacement director?
I’m sending pics in return. We’re a couple of weeks out of San Diego. I’ll be in touch soon.
Marissa
No. Not yet. She was due to leave in less than two weeks, and Mayor Turner and the council still hadn’t agreed on a candidate. Mrs. Battle could run the library, but with her macular degeneration she wouldn’t be able to for much longer. She had trouble seeing titles or author names on the spines of books, much less the various screens for the online catalog and check-out system.
She
“Yes, please,” Mrs. Battle said. “Take your time.”
Alana disappeared into the office to grab her purse. Once down the steps, she shouldered the enormous bag and set off down the sidewalk. He didn’t have to ease up on his stride so she could keep up. She gave him an expectant glance as they crossed Main Street. “I just came from Gunther Jensen’s place. It was broken into this morning while he was visiting his sister at the nursing home.”
“That’s terrible,” she said.
That was life. That kept guys like him in enough work to last a lifetime. “They wrecked it pretty badly, took some jewelry, a laptop, some cash.” He waited while she processed this. “Gunther lives about a mile from Cody’s place.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at him. “Cody was waiting outside the library this morning. He was nearly blue with cold. I’d say he’d been outside for quite a while.”
“He have a car?”
“I didn’t see one in the lot,” Alana said.
So the kid probably walked the six miles from the trailer to the library, a long trip in the cold damp spring air, but staying out of jail was a good motivator. If he’d even spent the night at home. He could have been outside all night, except his clothes were clean, if worn and a size too small. “Okay,” he said, filing the details away.
He held the door to Gina’s Diner for her. Everyone noticed them walk in together, but conversation didn’t stop. He was her landlord, and everyone local would know about Cody’s arrest and community service. That and their public-service roles were enough reason for them to be together, if anyone asked, which would keep her happy.
Gina slid the plastic menus back into the caddy when he said they were getting food to go. He ordered a burger and fries. Alana ordered lasagna, two cups of minestrone soup and extra rolls, and two slices of pecan pie.
“Mrs. Battle loves pecan pie,” she confided as she dug in her bottomless pit of a purse for her wallet.
“I’ve got it,” he said, and handed over cash for the meals and a tip.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Did you skip breakfast?” he asked when Gina brought out two white sacks of food.
“I gave my breakfast to Cody,” she said.
He just shook his head at her naiveté. Defensive color stood high on her cheekbones, or so he thought, until she added, “Let me make you dinner tonight. As a thank-you for lunch.”
It wasn’t defensive color. It was nerves. The shy librarian was asking him on a date. A quiet date at her house. A quiet, private date at the house where she had kissed him, and something about the secrecy rubbed him the wrong way. This wasn’t who he was, a man who did things on the sly for any reason at all.
“Sure,” he said.
“Is six too early?”
“Six is fine,” he said.
“You can bring Duke over if you want,” she said with a smile. “I promise I won’t ask you to fix the bathroom sink again.”
3
A LANA STOOD IN the pasta/canned goods aisle of Hooper’s Market, an empty plastic basket in one hand and her phone in the other, waiting for her e-mail to download. When the wheel stopped spinning, she knew why it had taken so long. She had e-mail from Marissa Brooks, which meant pictures.
Hey, Alana—
Thanks for the picture of the Main Street planters. I always knew spring had arrived when the planters went out. Are the prairie crocuses blooming? Has the council hired a replacement director?
I’m sending pics in return. We’re a couple of weeks out of San Diego. I’ll be in touch soon.
Marissa
No. Not yet. She was due to leave in less than two weeks, and Mayor Turner and the council still hadn’t agreed on a candidate. Mrs. Battle could run the library, but with her macular degeneration she wouldn’t be able to for much longer. She had trouble seeing titles or author names on the spines of books, much less the various screens for the online catalog and check-out system.
She
Similar Books
