“I’d like to hire you.”
I blink against the sudden, unsuspecting turn this conversation just took. A job? I have a job. One with an end date, sure, but that’s what I’m doing. Trying to save my job, not get offered a new one.
“I appreciate the offer,” I begin, “but—”
“You haven’t even heard my offer.” His business demeanor is back. Complete, this time, with a determined set to his jaw. I can’t imagine many people tell him no when he looks at them like this.
“Fair enough,” I concede, my gaze sliding down to my lap. There’s nothing he can say that’ll get me to turn my back on Derrick and Amara, May and Sam, and all my other kids, but I can afford him the same courtesy he showed me and hear him out. “What’s your offer?”
“You work for me temporarily as a freelance consultant, and at the completion of our agreement, you’ll get the hundred thousand dollars you need to fix the library’s roof from me personally.”
My head snaps up to attention as my eyes widen. “But that’s...” Insane is what that is. What in the world could he possibly need me to consult on that would be worth such a high payout? And from his own pocket, no less. I’m not educated or qualified to act in such a capacity.
“You’re a children’s librarian?”he’d asked.
Shoot. I’d said yes and led him to believe something not true. “Look, Julien, I’m not—”
“Take the job, Martha. I hate to say it, but you won’t be able to come up with that kind of money otherwise. You don’t have a lot of other options.”
He’s right, but I don’t like that he’s pointing it out, nor the supercilious way he’s commanding me, like he’s already the boss and I have to do his bidding. My eyes narrow, and that’s when I see it. The light tapping of his fingernail against the side of his leg. A nervous tic. I remember he used to do the same thing whenever Ginger Sullivan came over to study when they were in high school. She washiscrush way back when, and I’d climb up a magnolia tree between our houses to spy on them while they quizzed each other on the periodic table.
I settle back in my chair and cross my legs. “Would you like to try that again? This time with less bluster and more sincerity?”
He blinks at me, incredulous. Then his shoulders relax, and he flushes slightly at getting caught. His lips quirk. “I bet all the kids know to toe the line around you at the library.”
I give him my best matronly expression—pinched lips with a single raised brow. When his grin widens, I can’t hold the look any longer and break into a smile of my own.
“Julien, I need to clear something up. I’m not technically a children’s librarian. My job title is librarian’s assistant.”
He considers that. “But you’re still well versed and knowledgeable in children’s literature?” At my nod, he says, “Then the offer still stands.”
I huff. “There’s nothing that I know that’s worth that kind of money.”
“Don’t be so sure.” He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, his legs spreading in front of him. With a deep sigh, he opens his eyes, and a frankness is there that was hidden behind the honed boardroom sharpness. He looks more like the Julien of my memories. The kind, open-faced boy whocarried me to my mom after I fell off my bike and bloodied my knee when I was five.
“The thing is, I need your help just as much as you need mine. My father,” he starts, then shakes his head ruefully. “Well, you know Dad.”
I keep my mouth shut because, yes, I do know his dad, and that knowledge means any number of things could come out of Julien’s mouth next.
“He’s so stubborn.” There’s an edge to his voice now. “His doctors have all told him he needs to retire, but he’s a workaholic who’d rather put his health at risk than hand over the reins of the publishing house to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
He flashes me a sad sort of smile that’s here and gone before I blink. “He finally said he would, though. He assured both Mom and me that he would step down and appoint me head of the company if I could prove to him that I can handle the position.”
Dread begins to pool in my stomach. We’re getting to the crux of how I fit into his equation, and I’m almost afraid to hear his answer. “How are you supposed to prove that?”
His lips twist wryly. “Our children’s imprint, Squire, isn’t doing well. In fact, it’s been failing for some time now, and the board has recommended that we close the imprint altogether. My father, however, refuses. You see, Squire was started by my great-grandfather to honor my grandmother’s birth. While every imprint of King Publishing is a legacy, my father feels especially tied to Squire because he sees it as hers personally. I think he feels that if he closes its doors, he’d be letting Grandma down. He won’t admit it, but I think in some way it’s his attempt to keep her alive and with him. That if he lets it die, he’ll in some way experience losing her all over again.”
Julien takes in a long breath. “Anyway, he’s just now decided that the litmus test that will convince him I can capably takeover the publishing house is for me to not only make Squire solvent again but a front-page-worthy success story.”
“But wouldn’t that take years to accomplish?”
“I’m pretty sure that was part of the reason he made this the condition instead of something else. He’s approaching retirement kicking and screaming, like a toddler told it’s naptime. He’s a man used to being in control, and instead of loosening his grip and slowing down per his doctor’s orders, he’s willing to put his life at risk by hanging on even tighter and refusing to admit he’s hit the sunset years.”
“I’m sorry, Julien. That’s really hard.”
He nods once in agreement.
