I give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Cletus is going to take good care of me.”
3
Mayor Breckenbridge is in danger of being the recipient of another curse if he doesn’t cut his shenanigans out.
I am beyond tired, which is making me irritable, but our prestigious mayor isn’t helping anything. I was up past midnight last night trying to put together the bulletins for all four of Little Creek’s churches. The office assistant they share came down with the flu, and someone mentioned how I’m always eager to volunteer, so when Pastor Jordan called asking if I’d be willing to help them out in a pinch, I couldn’t say no, even though I really didn’t have the time nor the energy. I can barely keep my eyes open now, but at least I have a nice big checkmark in my notebook next to yesterday’s date.
Martha leans toward me and whispers, “How many pictures do you think he’s made poor Peggy Sue take?”
I’m not sure why she’s being careful with her volume. I’m beginning to think the only thing Mayor Breckenbridge can hear is the sound of his own voice.
“I really wish we’d wrapped it in a ribbon I could’ve cut,” he complains. “Or had a bottle of champagne I could have smashed on its hull—er, fender. That would’ve made a splendid picture.”
“Yes, sir.” Peggy Sue doesn’t bother removing her camera from in front of her face to answer.
Little Creek doesn’t have what people outside our small town would call a newspaper, but we do have Peggy Sue Sturgis and the printer in her basement. From gossip column to classifieds to investigative journalism pieces, Peggy Sue is a one-woman, one-sheet, knows-all tells-all. No doubt our distinguished mayor is hoping for a full spread on how he’s already on top of fulfilling his campaign promises so he can slack off the rest of his term.
I turn to Evangeline, swallowing down a yawn. “Next year I’m campaigning for Kitty Purry to be mayor. If the city of Idyllwild in California can have a golden retriever as mayor, Little Creek can elect your Ragdoll cat.”
Evangeline snorts. “As if Kitty Purry would settle for anything less than a throne. She already thinks she’s a queen. If you give her an ounce of power, she’ll turn into even more of a tyrant.”
“Are you sure you’re capturing my good side, Peggy Sue?”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Tai should be in these pictures. Cletus looked like he was about to join the zombie apocalypse before my cousin did his magic. Now he’s the vehicle equivalent of Eliza Doolittle. A daytime talk show–worthy transformation that would fool anyone. It burns my britches that Mayor Breckenbridge is taking the credit when it’s not due him.”
“Tai is really fantastic, isn’t he?” Evangeline’s voice has gone off to dreamland, its new permanent residence whenever she talks about Tai.
I roll my eyes again. “I can’t agree with you when you say it like that.”
She smirks, and I just shake my head.
The truth is, Tai has outdone himself. Yes, he’d grumbled that the two types of bodywork weren’t even remotely the same, but his finished product would’ve convinced anyone that they were. Instead of rust and dirt and years of grime and neglect on display, he’d put on a fresh coat of paint in the sameshade of blue that covers the library card nestled in his wallet. He’d even hand-painted stacks of books with colorful bindings along the side with the wordBookmobilein blocky font.
Mayor Breckenbridge pivots and holds his hands out in a Vanna White pose.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I mumble before marching toward Cletus. I paste on my best customer service smile, the one I use with especially difficult patrons.
I tap the mayor on the arm. “Thank you so much for your generosity, Mayor. I’m sure Peggy Sue here will let all the good townspeople know just the kind of leader you are.”
Mayor Breckenbridge puffs out his chest like a proud peacock.
Guess he missed the slices of sarcasm I slipped in there for him to chew on.
“But I know how much serving the neighboring communities means to you and how much vision and pride you’ve put into this illustrious bookmobile”—guess Martha’s tidbit about the Greek meaning of Cletus has stuck in my brain—“and I know you don’t want to see its maiden voyage delayed for any reason.”
“No, no, of course not.” He pats his ample belly, then seems to really look at me for the first time even though all us librarians have been out here watching the spectacle he’s been making out of himself for the last twenty minutes.
Ryan, our supervisor who mainly works with us remotely from his office at the main regional branch, has come for his once-a-month personal check-in and offered to oversee operations inside while Evangeline, Martha, and I watch the circus in front of us. Considering the bookmobile is partially funded with county tax revenues and technically now property of the county library system, Ryan plays a role in its operations and wanted to be on site for its first route.
“Are you the librarian given the honor of steering our town’s library into our community’s rightful leading role?”
I grit my teeth but keep on smiling. “That’s me.”
His eyes light up. “Peggy Sue, get a picture of me handing over the keys to...”
“Hayley Holt,” I supply.
“To Miss Holt.” He digs around in his pocket and extracts a single key on a ring, then holds up the metal sphere of the ring in his pinched fingers, jiggling the key until I hold my hand out, palm up. He turns his head and beams for the camera.
