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“He’s not, is he?” Jeff read her expression and swallowed what he wanted to say. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“He’s looking for work.”
“We didn’t offer him a job, did we?”
Helen puffed an impatient breath. “What work does Walker Electronics have for a home builder? No, he’s quite self-sufficient, but I suspect he’ll be around awhile.”
“Plenty of cause for concern right there.”
Helen’s look sharpened. “Matt’s not the one I’m worried about.”
Her words stung, just like his mother’s the night before.
They weren’t bothered by Matt’s sudden reappearance? Then it was a good thing Jeff had enough concern for both of them. He shrugged off her comment, hid the hurt and angled toward the tiny library, which was in need of refurbishing. “I’m fine. You know that.”
“Yes.” She paused again, hesitant but straightforward. “And no.”
“Yes,” he countered firmly. “And this isn’t a topic of conversation we can pursue right now.” He straightened as a volunteer’s car angled into the small lot. Fat raindrops began to pelt them. “I’ve got a job to do.”
Helen stepped back, nodded and opened her umbrella. “You do. And that’s the reverend so I’ll just walk over there and say hi before we get started.” She gave Jeff’s arm a light squeeze before she headed toward Reverend Hannity’s car, as if her touch would soothe the prick of her words.
She was worried about him.
Not Matt.
The incredulity of that cut deep. Right now he needed to get inside, compare notes and goals with Hannah, dust off his bruised ego and get to work fulfilling Grandpa’s dream, a well-set library system throughout Allegany County. And he needed to do it with the polished veneer of a leader, ready to forge ahead, when what he wanted to do was …
His hands clenched. His thoughts jumbled and frustration climbed his spine, settling in somewhere along the back of his neck.
He had no idea, so he buried the angst as best he could and headed through the door, a part of him wishing Grandma had gone to the veteran’s dinner as planned.
“Are we ready?”
Hannah gave her heart a chance to come under control at the sound of Jeff’s voice. His kindness the previous night was a delightful new memory that had managed to interrupt her sleep. But tonight he sounded gruff, and Hannah was savvy enough to know that any guy could appear nice for an hour or two. Maybe Jeff had exhausted his limit the previous night.
She turned, tamping her reaction. From the dozens of wet splotches on his clothes, the promised showers had come to fruition. “You’re wet.”
“Rain does that.” He peeled off an expensive-looking trench, then swept the room a glance. “I’d forgotten how small this place is because I use the Wellsville branch.”
“And that’s exquisite,” Hannah acknowledged. The Howe Library was a shining star in the economically roughed-up town.
“We’ve really got our work cut out for us.”
Did he realize his slight derision reflected her work for the past three years? She offered the tiny library a quick perusal. “It may be small, but it does the job.”
“If it did, we wouldn’t be here, Hannah.”
“Ouch.”
He huffed a breath, ran a hand across the nape of his neck, then shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, I just …” He stopped, glanced toward the exit and held up his jacket, pretending to head for the door. “Can we have a do-over? Please?”
No, they could not. “Unnecessary.” She flashed him a cool, crisp smile. “Folders are on the table.”
The door opened. Several committee members streamed in, lamenting the rain in mixed voices.
Jeff turned to greet them, his manner inviting, more like the guy she’d shared food with last night.
Just because he wears a suit, doesn’t mean he’s cut from Brian’s cloth.
But he’d walked in here pretty tense and frustrated, and Hannah didn’t do uptight or overwrought. Or driven, for that matter. Not anymore.
Jeff’s attention veered left as another voice joined the group. Hannah watched as Helen Walker greeted people much like her grandson, offering a warm smile and a firm handshake. And having met Helen back when she interviewed for the librarian position and the other day, Hannah wasn’t blind to the older woman’s work-first focus and drive. But Helen’s didn’t bother her.
Jeff’s did.
Because you’re constantly comparing him to Brian. Move on. Forge ahead. There is nothing wrong with focus. Got that?
Hannah grasped Helen’s hand. “Mrs. Walker, hello.”
“Helen, please.” Helen’s grip offered warm assurance, the perfect handshake. “And as cute as this is, Hannah—” Helen let her gaze wander the children’s corner, the faded carousel of computer stations and the narrow rows between labeled bookcases “—it’s time we did better. You understand that, right? And how essential your input is to the success of the final product we hope to achieve.”
Her words inspired Hannah’s grimace. “I’m sorry I balked initially. I shouldn’t have done that. Please accept my apology.”
Helen beamed. “Accepted and forgotten. We all get a little intimidated now and again, don’t we?”
“I suppose so.”
Jeff shifted their way and indicated the school-style wall clock. “We should get started.”
“Of course.” Hannah offered him a polite nod and headed for her seat at the end of the table. He sent her an unreadable look as he took his place opposite her, the long library table creating a distance.
And distance is good, Hannah told herself, settling in. Real good.
“I love this concept.” A primary school teacher raised Hannah’s overview folder up. “Using the solar system to represent how the branches circle the main library in Wellsville is stellar.”
A communal groan sounded at her joke. She grinned and turned Hannah’s way. “Did you do this?”
“Combined effort,” Hannah explained, feeling more like her old self than she’d expected. The realization buoyed her. “The analogy was mine. The graphics were all Jeff’s.”
“I love it,” declared Helen from her seat midway down the table. “And what’s more, Jonas would have loved it. The artwork embraces all the sciences, and that is the goal of a well-set library. So, Hannah …” Helen shifted her way. “Can you walk us through possible fundraising ideas?”
“Of course.” Hannah waved toward the far end of the table. “If I can direct your attention beyond Jeff, I’ve got a PowerPoint presentation of ideas, and then we can see how the committee feels about them individually.”
“Excellent.” Helen’s warm expression went from one end of the table to the other, her enthusiasm obvious. “Financial constraints meant we had to wait much longer than I wanted to get this drive started, and I’ve felt guilty about it. And guilt isn’t one bit fun.”
It wasn’t. Hannah knew that personally. With all Helen Walker had to do, the idea that one out-of-the-way, dot-on-the-map library meant something … That showed a whole lot of character. And Hannah respected good character.
“Jenny, adding a booth to next summer’s Balloon Rally would be wonderful,” Jeff assured the town council representative toward the end of the meeting. “And I don’t think it matters that we’ll be beyond our projected fundraising date. Added funds secure future purchases, and libraries can always use help in that regard. Well, then …” Jeff scanned his notes, flipped a few pages and sat back, satisfied. “We did well.”
“Very well,” Hannah added, looking calmer now that the meeting had ended and nothing had self-destructed. Right until she looked at him, then the cool, flat facade fell into place. But then again he hadn’t exactly been Mr. Friendly when he’d walked in tonight.
He stood, made small talk, then walked people to the door, feeling Hannah’s eyes watching. Assessing. Probably figuring he was a total fake, pretending interest he didn’t feel. On the plus side, the rain had stopped.
“Hannah, if you need anything at all, please call me.” Helen gripped the younger woman’s hands in hers. She leaned in just enough to show the sincerity behind her words. “Please.”
“I will.” Hannah’s smile said Helen’s authenticity bested her grandson’s.
Helen headed for the door and nodded to Jeff. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll bring coffee,” he promised, then turned back to Hannah, needing to close the evening on a positive note between them. Pinpoints of guilt prickled him for his earlier insensitivity.
He straightened his notes and his spine, slid his portfolio into his laptop bag and shouldered it before facing her. “I apologize if I was too blunt earlier. I had things on my mind, but I shouldn’t have taken them out on you. Or this project. It was rude.” He was ready to go home and collapse; the successive long days were wearing on him. “Thanks for offering to type up the notes and meeting minutes. If you email them to me once you’ve got them ready, I’ll go over them with Grandma.”
“Or I can ‘cc’ her a copy and spare you the time,” Hannah suggested.
“She’ll want to talk it out,” Jeff told her. “She’s very hands-on, as you can see.”
“Then I’ll forward them and you can proceed from there.”
She kept her tone cool. Crisp. Concise.
Just what he wanted, right?
Except spending time with her last evening had put him in mind of other things. But those thoughts were best buried.
She’d readopted her business manner and kept her distance, sparing him from looking into those bright blue eyes. The dimmer lights by the library door kept him from seeing the sprinkle of freckles, or noting the long lashes, their shadow a curve against her tanned cheek. Obviously she hadn’t read all the current warnings about skin and sunscreen, because her softly bronzed face and arms said she wasn’t afraid to be in the sun.
He gave a quick wave as he went through the door, deciding not to linger with uncomfortable goodbyes.
She’d email him, he’d email her, they’d push forward.
Perfect.
But it felt much less than that.
Dismissed.
Hannah watched him go and was tempted to throw something. Standing in a room full of books, her choices were numerous. But she couldn’t throw books. She loved books. Loved learning. Knowledge. Sharing that love with others, children and young adults.
At least she had loved it until circumstances blindsided her, stealing her livelihood, her heart and a share of her soul. Melancholy threatened, but she pushed it aside, determined to stay in the here and now.
She didn’t like being shrugged off by the electronics wizard as if she were some ordinary business partner.
Which she was.
Or some underling who depended on him for her livelihood.
Which she did. Kind of. Since his grandmother was head of the library council and approved her hiring three years back.
But the fact that he made her feel like that was aggravating. Exasperating. She shut off the lights of the tiny house, set the lock and headed for her car. Usually she walked from her apartment to the Jamison Farmers Free Library, but she’d known she’d be late tonight, probably tired, and rain was in the forecast, so she’d driven over. She’d get home, sit down, hammer out these notes, email them to Jeff and be done with things until the various committee members got back to her with their plans. Then she’d compile them into a semblance of order, send them on to Jeff and move to step two for next week’s meeting.
Easy.
She fumbled in her pocket for her set of keys and stopped, chagrined.
Not there.
She tried again, then groped for a nonexistent purse.
Nope, she’d left that home on purpose, wanting to be unencumbered.
No keys.
Either she left them inside …
Or she’d locked them in the car.
She went over to the car, pressed her nose to the glass and tried to scan the interior.
No luck. Darkness had fallen hours ago, the fall equinox behind them. The one lone dusk-to-dawn light was set near the library entrance, leaving this corner of the gravel lot in complete darkness.
Split. Splat. Split. Splat.
Fat raindrops began to pelt her head, her face, her arms. And of course she hadn’t brought anything along since she was driving back and forth. No sweater. No hoodie. No sweatshirt.
Grumbling, she tucked the important papers under her shirt to protect them, and started jogging for home, the thin manila edges cutting into soft skin with every running step.
She had a spare key at home, but that thought didn’t make her any drier, warmer or smarter at the moment. By the time she got home, fumbled her hidden key into the apartment lock and closed the door behind her, she was cold, soaked and fairly miserable, a combination that brought back too many memories.
Shoving aside mental images that had owned her for too long, she headed to the shower and let warm water ease the chill and the frustrations.
The images she left entirely up to God.
Chapter Five
Jeff spotted Hannah as he cruised down McCallister Street the next afternoon; the pretty blond hair was a giveaway.
He pulled over, opened his window and called her name.
She turned, surprise lighting her face. The way his gut clenched on seeing her told him that instead of waning, the appeal was growing. Of course, the fact that he was showing up out of the blue on his lunch hour to thank her for the copious notes she’d sent him might have something to do with that.
Polite, he told himself.
Nice try, his conscience replied.
He jumped out of the car, rounded the hood and opened the passenger door for her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride. It’s cooking out here today.”
She looked trapped but grateful. The midday sun was blazing hot, a late September anomaly. “Thanks.”
