“You mean the children’s reading room.”
“—which the city made us convert to hold the city’s computer servers… Well, as long as the servers are here, and as long as you bragged about having a computer science minor, the city cancelled the contract for maintaining their software and wants you to do the maintenance in-house. In your spare time.” She paused. “And me. Because I’ve got a minor in accounting, they’ve put me on the city accounts. Actually, because they’ve laid off everyone who can tell the difference between accounting software and actual accounting, we’re both on everything. And expected to do everything.”
“And you’re just going to give in to them?”
Serenity picked up her coffee mug and took a long sip. “Almost all of our funding comes from the city. I work for them, you work for me. And, maybe, by being cooperative, we can get some funding from them to keep us alive. Doom, you don’t know how bad things are and how little time we’ve got. I’m fighting to save the books, the city, the library, and your job. If we have to eat a little shit to do it, so be it.”
Doom waved her hand at the closed door to the outer library. “Look, I turned down jobs at bigger libraries than this. You promised me a grand crusade for the Holy Grail, that we were going to turn Maddington into a city built on books. I treat this place like a temple. Did I tell you that I lost my virginity here?”
Serenity shut her eyes. “God, no, Doom, I don’t need to hear this.”
“Yes, you do. You need to know what this place means to me. First day at work here, I found a stash of condoms in the back stacks, left there by teenagers, I guess.”
“Not the first time we’ve found condoms, sometimes even in the books. Sometimes used.” Serenity looked at the clock and tried to convince herself it was late enough for rum. Shouldn’t have to listen to this sober.
“I figured the condoms were a sign the books were trying to give me. So, the first night that I was the one closing up by myself, I had a boy come in. We went back and arranged Jane Austen and J.D. Salinger and an original X-Men graphic novel around us and—”
“Enough. I really need to pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Well, I can’t. Every time I come to work I smile, proud that I became a woman in this library. My self-image will take a terrific blow if I find out I gave my virginity to an accounting program.”
Serenity shook her head. “Who was the boy? I didn’t even know you were dating anybody seriously.”
“I don’t remember. Just some guy.”
“You remember the books around you but not the boy?”
“You made a promise to me: here, we will build lives around books, and we will lead Maddington to greatness. You promised me, and I took you at your word.”
Serenity took an even longer pull of her coffee and stood up. “Doom, I don’t know. I don’t lie to anybody about anything.” She thought for a second and then added, “Well, I try not to. I made those promises about making Maddington something special when the old mayor was here and supported our vision. But things are different today. For today, we have to give in and you have to get your ass out to the computer room. Now.”
Doom drew herself up into her full superhero pose, fists clenched and skinny arms tense at her side, like she was going to destroy a small building with her hands. Then she slumped and dragged herself out.
“Bentley’s right about you,” she said at the door. “Lie-brarian.”
eight
little man with a big hat
IT WAS HARD for Serenity to take this seriously.
The mayor looked like the round little man in the Monopoly game, the one with the drooping white mustache and the top hat and tails—but without the top hat and tails today.
He was sitting behind a massive walnut desk in an office bigger than the whole adult fiction section of her library. It was hard to take a meeting with this man seriously, except that the library’s future depended on it.
“Mayor Johnson, the city needs your help. By Friday.”
“Absolutely.” He beamed across his desk with a big, baby-kissing smile. “Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
He yelled past her. “Miss Henson, would you bring Mrs. Hammer a cup of coffee?” He returned to beaming at her. “How would you like it?”
“I don’t—black, I guess.”
“Any way you want it. This is your city and your office.” He furrowed his brow and gave her a grave look. “I’m so glad you stopped by. I have a question that I need your unique expertise on.”
Serenity breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. It’s so good to be taken seriously. As the librarian, I’ve got a unique vantage point on our community and I think we can use the library to make Maddington a great—”
“As a woman, what do you think about how I’ve decorated my office?”
She paused. “It’s—fine. I guess. It looks like any government bureaucrat’s office. Big desk, pictures of you with important people—”
“That’s me with the governor there.”
“I see that.”
He put on a serious expression and locked eyes with her. “The opinion of women voters is very important to me. There are many areas where women are much more qualified than men. I want you to know that I take your opinions on office decoration very, very serious.”
“Seriously,” corrected Serenity.
He nodded solemnly.
“The polls show that I’m trailing with women voters. I want you to tell your friends that I listened to you and that I was very seriously.”
“Serious.”
He looked peeved. “Well, which is it?”
“It’s an adverb when—never mind. I think this is a very nice office for a government bureaucrat.”
“Statesman.” He sat up proudly.
Serenity saw an opening. “And the people of Maddington have a crying need for a real statesman, starting at tonight’s city council meeting.”
“I’m your man. Our city can count on me to give the very best. I have always been at the forefront when it comes to leading our city forward.”
Serenity tried a salesman’s smile but it felt forced. “Yes, sir. You’ve done so much. Maddington is one of the finest cities in Alabama—progressive, educated—”
“Don’t forget friendly.”
“Yes, that too. However, our leadership is at grave risk.”
The mayor stood up. Standing, he was about five feet high and five feet around. “We will not stand for that. Whatever my city needs, I’ll give.”
“Sir, our library is the cultural center of Maddington. We need to expand the library and make it the focus for better educational opportunities, and an incubator for creativity and job growth. But, instead of that bright future, because of a lack of funds, we may soon have to close our doors.”
He set his jaw. “How can I help? Are we going to do a bake sale or a car wash? The mayor himself will wash the first car!”
Or eat the first cupcake, thought Serenity. Not the time for that. “No, sir. We’ve had car washes, and bake sales, and book drives, and donation nights at restaurants and bars, and NPR fund appeals, and every kind of fundraiser imaginable until people are sick of them. We need more.”
He tugged at his chin and paced back and forth. “Your mayor will have to think of something. Perhaps you could talk to Paul Molcut. He seems to have a lot of luck in getting corporations to donate stuff.”
“I have, sir. Mr. Molcut certainly seems to have the ear of businesses and civic organizations in North Alabama. But Mr. Molcut feels that the businesses in Maddington have been as generous as they can be. What we need, sir, is for the city to restore our previous funding level, and fund the expansion. Without city funding, there is no way for us to keep our doors open.”