We walked a bit farther in uncomfortable silence and then John stopped. He turned to face me. “Does this feel as awkward to you as it does to me?”
I nodded and took another sip from my cup.
“Look, I’m sorry about Travis,” he said. “This whole thing with Marcus and Dani happened a long time ago and ended pretty quickly.” He gave an offhanded shrug. “And it’s not like they were going to do the whole happily-ever-after thing anyway. It’s just . . . I think working together for the past few weeks brought up some old feelings for him. Dani made it pretty clear she wasn’t interested and I think seeing Marcus, well, it was just easier to blame him than face the fact that it was never going to happen with Dani.”
“So they don’t work together all the time?” I said.
John shook his head. “No. The engineer who was working with us on this project dislocated his shoulder and broke his arm rock climbing. Travis came on board at the last minute.” He held out both hands. “And now I’m going to change the subject. How did you end up in Minnesota? Was it the librarian’s equivalent of running off to join the circus?”
I laughed. “I wanted to do something different. The library board was looking for someone to supervise renovations to the building.” I held up my cup. “And here I am.”
“How the heck did you end up with an herbarium? I don’t think I’ve ever come across one in a library before.” We started walking again.
“That happened before I got here. It’s a small town. We have a lot of things people don’t expect to find in a library—a collection of documents with the history of this area, high school yearbooks going back almost a hundred years.” We stopped at the corner to let two cars go by before we crossed the street.
“Basically we inherited the herbarium when the government plant research station consolidated all its work in St. Paul.”
John made a face. “I’ve already been through the endangered species database. I’m hoping there might be something in the herbarium records, some rare plant we didn’t know was native to this area. Plants don’t always follow the rules about where they grow.” He held out both hands and shrugged. “It’s a long shot.”
It occurred to me then that maybe it would help John if he talked to Rebecca. “I have a friend who’s been making herbal remedies all her life,” I said as we approached the library. “She knows a lot about the plants that grow in this area. I could call her and see if she has any suggestions, I mean, if you think it would help.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” he said. “Thanks. If we’re going to stop this project or at least get the proposal modified we don’t have a lot of time.”
“So all three of you work for the same environmental group?” I asked.
John shook his head. “Dani and I do. Not Travis. There are four different groups working together right now. They’re all opposed to the resort proposal. It just made more sense for us to pool our resources.” He stopped in front of the old brick building. “This is your library?”
I nodded.
“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “How old is the building?”
“Over a hundred years.” I led the way up the steps. I noticed John eye the wrought-iron railings and the heavy wooden doors.
Mary Lowe was at the circulation desk when we stepped inside. “Good morning, Kathleen,” she said. “You’re early.”
“A little,” I said. “Is Abigail around?”
Mary tipped her head in the direction of the stacks. “She’s shelving in the children’s section.” She looked past me and gave her best grandmotherly smile to John. “Welcome to the Mayville Heights Free Public Library.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s a beautiful building.”
Mary beamed. “We think so.”
I touched John’s arm. “I’ll introduce you to Abigail Pierce. She can get you set up.”
We found Abigail arranging picture books on a low shelf, forehead furrowed in concentration. Abigail was also a children’s author and I was hearing lots of great buzz about the new book she had coming out in early winter, just a couple of months away.
She straightened up and smiled when she caught sight of us. I made the introductions and explained what John was looking for.
“I can get you set up in our small meeting room,” Abigail said. A pensive look crossed her face and she tucked a strand of hair absently behind one ear. She looked so different without her long braid. “We also have some sketchbooks that might be helpful. One of the botanists who worked at the research station was also an artist. He drew some of the plants he saw and there are maps and notes as well.”
John pulled a hand back over his neck. “That sounds terrific but I think I’m going to need an extra set of hands to go through all that.”
“I think I can get those for you,” I said.
“They’re not going to come ripping out of my chest like in that Alien movie, are they?” he asked.
Abigail looked at me, narrowing her eyes. “Are you thinking of Maggie?”
“Yes,” I said. “Rebecca taught her a lot about plants in this part of the state and I know she took a look at those sketchbooks.” I turned back to John. “My friend Maggie Adams is an artist. If you think it would help I could call her and see if she could stop by and go through those sketchbooks.”
“It would help,” John said. “But are you sure she’s available?”
“I can ask. Maggie is very much on the no side when it comes to the development. I think she’d be happy to help if she can.”
Abigail—who I knew was also opposed to the development—smiled. “Why don’t I show John the herbarium while you call Maggie?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
John picked up the leather messenger bag he’d set at his feet and gave me a warm smile. “Thanks, Kathleen. I appreciate all your help.”
I smiled back at him. “You’re welcome.”
I went upstairs to my office to call Maggie. “I can walk over right now,” she said once I explained about John and the sketchbooks.
I swiveled in my chair and looked out the window over the water. There were a few clouds, like puffs of white cotton floating high in the sky. “I’m not taking you from anything important, am I?” I asked.
“I’ve been staring at a bunch of photos on my computer for the last twenty minutes and I still don’t know which ones to print,” she said. “And stopping the plans for the lakefront is more important than anything else right now as far as I’m concerned. I’ll see you in a little while.”
I ended the call and leaned back in my chair. I didn’t want the development—at least the way the plans were at the moment—to happen, either. But more than that I wanted the whole debate settled. It was beginning to affect the town. Rebecca and Everett were on different sides of the issue but they had somehow found a way for that to not affect their relationship—probably because in the end Everett would do anything for her if she asked. But they were the exception. Even at the library we’d agreed to disagree. Abigail and I were in the no camp, but Mary was for the proposal, pointing out that Mayville Heights would benefit from more tourists so close by.
“I grew up swimming in Long Lake, picking blueberries and getting a Christmas tree out there every year,” she’d told me one morning about a week and a half previous, standing in the upstairs hallway. “And in a perfect world none of that land would ever be developed. But it’s far from a perfect world.” She’d brushed a stray bit of lint from the front of her blue sweater, which was decorated with huge yellow-and-brown sunflowers. “Time only runs in one direction, Kathleen. Forward,” she’d continued, her expression serious, which was rare for Mary. “I believe it’s because we’re supposed to keep moving forward, not live in the past.”
I hadn’t argued with Mary’s reasoning—but I knew that Harrison Taylor had had a fairly heated conversation on the subject with her. Harrison and Mary had been friends for years and I felt sure their friendship would withstand this disagreement, but I still hated seeing them squabble instead of blatantly flirting with each other the way they usually did.