Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) (17 page)

“Mama got me to promise, and I did. I’m happy to help, Boone. Hearing you talk about her really brings her back.”

“Yep. I miss her.”

“Me, too.”

He released a breath. “Well, I was hoping I’d never have to call. I thought I had this thing licked.”

“Tell me what I can do,” Ella said immediately.

“I can only ask my assistant at Town Hall to do so much reading for me without her wondering why I’m not doing it myself. It’s for that reason that I don’t ask her to check over the
Bugler
’s reports on town council meetings. That’s an easy task I can do at my desk. But I missed an edition because I was swamped at school. There was a big oversight the mayor’s office should have caught. I’m pissed no one on the town council noticed, actually. But the buck stops with me.”

“I get that.”

“I would love for you to read the
Bugler
for me and call me afterward and tell me any stuff you think I should know. I’d like to hear from you how they report on our council meetings, especially. Meanwhile, every day I try to keep up with all the other paperwork a mayor has to deal with, plus I grade papers at the high school and read all the emails there from the principal and the office. Sometimes I’m up all night trying to catch up.”

“Boone, I wish this didn’t have to happen.”

“I’m okay with it. Honestly. I’ve always had everything under control. But these days…”

He told her about having to spend more time campaigning the next couple weeks now that he had an opponent—and about all the hours he’d be spending on the football field in addition.

“I’m going to be overrun with reading,” he said, “so I’m going to need this additional help. I’d love to offer you a part-time job as my personal assistant.”

“I’m interested.”

“I’m glad. I understand you already have your own career, your own priorities. But I’ll pay you well, and I’ll do all my own work. I just need someone to read things to me faster than I can do it myself.”

“How many hours a week are you thinking?”

“Ten to fifteen, whenever you can fit it in. We can do some of this over the phone. I’ll give you my direct number so you don’t talk to my assistant. Sometimes we’ll have to be together in the same room, though. I’ll have stacks of papers to go through with you. I’d like to do that in private at your house, if you don’t mind, the same way I used to do with your mom.”

“That sounds fine.”

“I’ll park in your backyard, okay? I want to keep this on the down low as much as possible.”

“That’ll be easy. I have a lot of privacy here at the end of the block. In fact, you coming over here helps a lot. I don’t have the most reliable car. Let’s get started. Tomorrow sound good?”

“Perfect.” His whole body relaxed a little. “Thanks. I’ll swing by after breakfast.”

“Great. The kids will be at school.”

It was hard for him to speak about Mrs. Kerrison without his throat tightening up. “I can’t say enough good things about your mother. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

“Don’t make me cry, Coach,” Ella said on a low chuckle. “Or should I say ‘Mr. Mayor’? I’m honored to work with you. And the cash will help. Always does. Making a living as a potter ain’t for sissies.”

“I hear you.”

They chatted a little more about Ella’s kids and how she was doing since her husband had left her, moved out of state, and wasn’t paying any child support. Boone wished he’d thought about hiring her for something way earlier than now, just to help her pay her bills. When he hung up the phone, he was glad their business relationship would benefit them both.

But he’d not tell anyone. Especially his parents. They never talked about his “little problem,” as they referred to his dyslexia, as if his six years being tutored in secret by his former sixth-grade teacher had never happened.

Richard hadn’t had any trouble reading, according to his mother. Nor had Debbie, who was a professor at Duke.

Boone had been the only one.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“You don’t look like no mayor,” Sally told Cissie at the library the next afternoon. “And you need to. The television people are coming.”

“How do you know?” Cissie’s goal was to keep things normal at the library for as long as possible. She and Sally were working together on a new reading poster to hang behind the front desk—a scholarly worm sticking out of an apple, a book in its hand.

In a cartoon bubble, the worm said, “Reading Is Good for You!” Sally had painted the whole thing herself with poster paints on a roll of white paper donated by the meat department at the Harris Teeter. It was a funky worm, like something out of a psychedelic movie, and the words above his head were equally eye-catching, all zigzaggy and crazy, like Sally herself.

Cissie loved this poster. She could stare at it all day. Yes, a bookworm was a predictable theme in a library, but Sally’s worm was special. The older people who saw it would talk to her about the good old days when they were students and brought their teachers apples. Toddlers would wave to the worm. Hank Davis already loved it. He and Sally had done what they called the Worm Dance in front of it.

Speaking of her two favorite volunteers, it pained Cissie’s heart to know they wouldn’t be with her anymore at the new library if Boone’s plan went through.

So maybe it was a long shot, her winning the election. But until the outcome was made clear—and even afterward—she was going to run that theme into the ground: keep the library in Kettle Knob, in part because she needed to keep Sally and Hank Davis with her.

They made the library special. They made her
life
special.

Sally finished painting a strangely cool top hat on the worm. “The redheaded reporter lady called while you was in the children’s section with the Amish mama and her kids.”

“That waitress at Starla’s moved fast.” Cissie picked up an empty jar of blue paint, wondered if she should bother ordering another for the craft closet, and decided that yes, she would.

“Oh, it wasn’t Zoe who got in touch with them.” Sally’s chest puffed up. “I did.”

“Sally.”

“Well, of course I was gonna call! ’Cause no one did nothin’ after the sit-in was over.”

“You’re right,” said Cissie, her shoulders sagging.

“You was so busy getting signatures, and I was here with your replacement, and she didn’t care nothin’ about the library moving. She got on my last nerve with the way she hums all the time. Hank Davis hated her real bad. We’re glad she’s gone.”

“Iron Man,” said Hank Davis, and brought Cissie a
Where’s Waldo?
book, his favorite.

Of course she would look at it with him. She took it and sat at a table. “Sit here,” she told him, and patted the seat next to her.

“She cain’t, Hank Davis.” Sally ripped the book out of Cissie’s hands. “The TV people’s coming tomorrow. And Cissie ain’t ready.”

“Sure, I am. I know exactly what to say!”

“No one will care ’cause you ain’t got style. You gotta get some style, like me and Hank Davis. The redheaded reporter lady say you cain’t wear stripes or polka dots. They’re interviewing Boone, too.”

“That family isn’t Amish.”

“Don’t change the subject. Nothin’ matters but the TV people. And you. Go get your hair done. Get you something else to wear.”

Cissie looked at her perfectly serviceable gray sheath dress and dusky pink cardigan. “I like this outfit. Gray and pink go well together.”

“On your mama,” said Sally. “Not you. Right, Hank Davis? Shouldn’t Cissie wear bright red? Or orange? Somethin’ like what I wear?”

Hank Davis picked up all the pencils in Cissie’s pencil cup and put them back in, sharpened points up.

“That means yes,” said Sally.

Cissie let the pencils be. “Okay. I’ll try to look nicer for the interview. Although why I should—”

The library door opened, and in came Laurie. “She ready, Sally?”

“Just about.”

“What are you talking about?” Cissie had a bad feeling.

“I’m taking you shopping,” said Laurie, “at the new outlet outside Asheville. They have a free personal shopper if you spend over five hundred dollars.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Sure you can.” Laurie flashed a shiny gold credit card.

“And then you’re going to the beauty parlor,” said Sally.

“I can’t do that, either.” Cissie balked. “I have a library to run.”

“And I had an entire high school front office to run.” Laurie folded one arm over the other. “Am I there right now?”

Cissie was touched and annoyed, all at the same time. “You didn’t take off because of me.… Did you?”

“Hell, yes, she did,” said Sally. “We got it covered. Me and Hank Davis is gonna run the library while Laurie gets you all sexed up.”

“Sexed up?” Cissie was petrified at the thought. “That would be entirely inappropriate.”

“I know.” Laurie grinned. “And I love it. You and Boone are going to be interviewed at the same time.”

“I can’t wait.” Sally did her Worm Dance. Hank Davis joined in.

“You never told me you danced with Boone at the sit-in,” Laurie chided Cissie.

“It wasn’t as if I wanted to,” Cissie said. “He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out the door.”

Sally kept dancing, but she and Laurie exchanged knowing looks.

“Iron Man,” said Hank Davis in the middle of a gyration.

“Don’t you turn on me, too, Hank Davis.” Cissie felt her face turn scarlet.

“She likes Boone,” said Sally to Laurie.

“Who wouldn’t?” Laurie put her hand on her hip and looked Cissie up and down. “And now you’re living with him. And
doing his laundry
.”

Sally finally stopped dancing. She clapped her hands, bent over at the waist, and laughed so loud, it hurt Cissie’s ears. Laurie giggled, too. Hank Davis leaned down and looked at his mother’s face.

“I know.” Sally waved a hand at him and kept laughing. “I’m gonna stop.”

Cissie was about to complain when Sally finally stood up straight. “Hank Davis, put your hands over your ears.”

He did as he was told.

“If you can’t say it in front of him, don’t say it at all,” said Cissie.

“Okay, then.” Sally pulled Hank Davis’s hands down. “I won’t say it.”

But then she and Laurie sent Cissie very knowing looks.

She turned redder than ever. “I only kept it secret so people wouldn’t look at me the way you are now.”

“Honey,” said Laurie, “as soon as you left Starla’s, it spread around Kettle Knob like wildfire that you and Boone are living in the same house. Everyone thought you were staying with the Hattleburys. They swore up and down you were.”

“Because Nana and I asked them to.” Cissie refrained from rolling her eyes.

“I heard it from Hank Davis,” said Sally.

Hank Davis stood tall and silent, like a totem pole.

“I left school before Boone got back for football practice,” Laurie said. “But I heard he was acting like it was no big deal.”

“Because it
is
no big deal.” Cissie collapsed in the chair again. “Our tree fell through our roof.”

“You could have stayed with me,” Laurie said.

“You’ve got the boys.”

“That’s true. You’d be on Xanax by now if you stayed with us.”

“How about me and Hank Davis?” Sally asked.

“I love y’all, too, but—”

“But we live in a garden shed,” said Sally. “The prettiest one you ever did see. I’m into the small house movement. You ever heard of that? Only cool people do it.”

“Yes, but it would have been me, and Nana, and Dexter—”

“It’s okay, sweet Cissie.” Sally came over and ran her palm over Cissie’s hair. “This is a good thing, you and Boone doing the hokey pokey.”

“We are
not
doing the hokey pokey,” Cissie whispered. Luckily, Hank Davis didn’t appear to get what they were saying. “Boone’s my political opponent.”

Laurie crouched down by Cissie. “You’re not yourself. Something is going on. Am I right?”

“You’re right.” Sally kept stroking Cissie’s hair. “Hank Davis, go get me my purse. It’s got a peppermint in it. I left it in the car. You eat that peppermint. And if anyone tries to come in the library, you shout, ‘Boo!’ I’ll tell you when you can come back.”

“No,” said Cissie. “We can’t do that to our library patrons.”

“You do as I say, Hank Davis!” Sally was firm. “You say, ‘Boo!’ and scare them away.”

Hank Davis walked out the front door of the library.

Sally looked at Cissie. “‘Boo!’ ain’t gonna hurt nobody. We all like ‘Boo!’ It adds excitement to our day.”

Laurie took Cissie’s hand. “Come on, darlin’. What’s up?”

“Okay.” Cissie inhaled, then exhaled. “I’ll tell you. But you have to keep it a secret. Because it doesn’t mean anything.”

She told them both about her first night at Boone’s house, about how forward she’d been and how amazing he’d been in response, and as she did, she realized it
did
mean something: her crush on him was stronger than it had ever been.

It was so
stupid
.

But he was such a great kisser.

And more.

It was that
and more
part that she kept lingering on, although she could spend all night daydreaming about how he kissed.

“Even his knees are special,” Cissie confessed.

“His knees?” asked Sally.

“Oh, yeah.” Laurie nodded knowingly. “I remember those knees from high school.”

She did?

“You are one lucky woman,” Laurie added.

“
He’s
the lucky one.” Sally kept stroking Cissie’s hair. “When’s it gonna happen next?”

“Never.” After this library situation was over, if Cissie lost the race, she really needed to move—someplace where she didn’t cling to schoolgirl fantasies about hooking up with the quarterback. She needed a life. Somewhere out there was a perfectly average-looking guy with a big brain who would be crazy about her. She just knew it.

But she wasn’t excited about it.

Laurie stood up. “Let’s get going. We have no time to waste. Your eyebrows are in sore need of trimming. Boone doesn’t like bushy eyebrows.”

“I don’t care
what
he likes,” said Cissie.