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Though, will I imagine, say, Zac Efron telling me I’ve earned something of my own merit while he brings me to orgasm? I won’t say the idea hasn’t crossed my mind.
Love you, B.
From: [email protected]
Date: July 15 2:45 p.m.
Subject: Dusty...
And full of cobwebs, like some other part of your anatomy. *side-eye*
Sorry, I couldn’t resist. First glass of wine tonight at Joe’s is on me. We’re celebrating this successful article.
Love you too, C.
Chapter 12
October
Cole
After putting Blaire off for six months on her request to get access to the Winterberry Glen archives to investigate the origin of the feud, I finally gave in and set up a meeting with Mrs. Sanderson, the town librarian and archivist. I had to use all my charm to get Mrs. Sanderson to agree to meet with Blaire—considering her origins. My mom believed the only reason she gave in was because she wanted to meet the girl I was “trying so hard for,” but if Mrs. Sanderson had Blaire in her inbox and on her phone every day, she’d wear down eventually, too.
Blaire and I met in person more regularly since the meetings around the festival were getting more practical and involved more people. I managed not to be alone with her yet, but I knew Mrs. Sanderson’s style was to pull out the records and microfiche and leave people to their research. As I walked down the sidewalk to the front door of the library and spotted Blaire, hair shiny and curled, wearing a mustard blazer with a maroon scarf and somehow managing to not look like a hot dog condiment cart, I wondered if it was too late to bail.
Blaire spotted me and raised her hand in a wave, a smile brightening her face, presumably at the prospect of doing research and not because I was in her line of sight. Something had changed in our relationship since Tanya’s post had come out. Maybe it was the fact that I appeared protective of Blaire. Perhaps it was just the fact that Blaire was happy it was creating a positive buzz around the festival with Tanya’s audience and beyond. Regardless, we were definitely friendlier and less antagonistic. Nothing like discussing our town’s histories and feud to put an end to that.
I nodded to her as I walked up.
“Greene.”
“Thomas. Are you ready to do this?”
“I’d rather get a root canal.”
“Awe, that’s the spirit. Too bad, let’s go inside!”
Chuckling in spite of myself, I followed her into the library. She walked up to the circulation counter, opened her mouth to speak, and then realized I made the appointment. She closed her mouth again and looked at me expectantly.
“Hi there, Mrs. Nuñez. We have a three o’clock with Mrs. Sanderson.”
“Ah yes, of course. Our Cole and his Holly Ridge...colleague. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
It was clear by the look of surprise at the ice in Mrs. Nuñez’s tone that Blaire doesn’t venture anywhere other than the government center when she visits our side of the river. It’s not that Winterberry Glen citizens have a radar for Holly Ridge folks exactly, but Blaire isn’t exactly a nobody in these parts, especially now that she’s planning the festival and Tanya’s blog started a wave of coverage for the town.
I stood in the library glancing around the circulation area. Not much has changed over the last few decades, including the staff. The library was a place where I felt safe, like I could hide from the drama in my house when my dad was still home, and then could escape my mom’s sadness after he left.
Shaken from my melancholy walk down memory lane by the sound of keys jangling from a key ring, I turned to see Mrs. Sanderson approaching.
“Mrs. S,” I greeted her. “Thank you so much for seeing us.”
“Hmph,” she responded, taking in Blaire standing next to me. “Well, you know I can’t say no to you, Cole. But the flower delivery certainly didn’t hurt anything.”
She turned and walked away without another word, the expectation that we would follow her clear from her quick movements.
Flower delivery? Blaire mouthed at me as we moved down a hallway to a stairwell.
