The Wedding Circle (3 page)

“My fellow Chericoans,” Councilman Sparks began, surveying the gathering with his trademark display of dazzling white teeth. “Today, we begin a new era for our wonderful little town. When I turn over this first shovelful of earth, construction on The Charles Durden Sparks, Crumpton, and Duddney Public Library will officially have begun.” He paused as pot-bellied fellow councilman Chunky Badham, huffing and puffing all the while, quickly maneuvered himself into prime camera-snapping position. Only after several frenetic “test” poses did Councilman Sparks actually plunge the shovel into the weedy ground, apply swift but significant pressure with his right foot, and deposit a little red clay mound beside the small hole he had created. He pointed to it dramatically, as if he had just struck gold. “Voilà!”

He resumed his speech in earnest after the polite applause of the crowd had died down. “From this small beginning our new library will grow from the ground up. And I do want to thank each and every one of you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming out here today. I realize this is not the most comfortable place to be right now. But let's look ahead, shall we? If we don't have too much bad weather this fall and winter, we expect everyone to be enjoying this new facility about this time next year, don't we, Miz Mayhew? Just under eleven months was the time frame quoted to us by the construction company, right?”

Caught slightly off guard, Maura Beth still conjured up her best smile and raised her right hand with her fingers crossed. “I believe that's the game plan. So everyone hold off on all those rain dances, if you would.”

Councilman Sparks almost seemed to be conducting the burst of laughter that followed, as he raised both hands heavenward. Then he slowly brought them down to his side, apparently having invoked a generous helping of his godly powers. No tent revivalist could have done it better. “Yes, indeed. My vision of this project is very clear. Let me now share it with all of you. Imagine, if you will, being able to read your favorite novels with this glorious view of the lake at your disposal. Picture being able to walk out on the wraparound deck at sunset after you've done your research or read one of the many periodicals we'll have on display for your convenience. Our architect standing right here beside me, Mr. Rogers Jernigan, has assured us that this facility will be state of the art down to the last detail, and he has worked closely with our Miz Mayhew, getting the valuable input of Cherico's wonderful, degreed librarian. In addition, no expense will be spared in bringing these amazing blueprints of his to life. Our generous benefactors standing here beside us today have made all of this possible, doing more than their civic duty. Their contributions will be remembered for generations to come, as so many lives will be affected positively. . . .”

It was at that point that Maura Beth found herself tuning out the endless litany of clichés. It had been her frequent observation that whenever Councilman Sparks belabored something to a fault, he was very likely preparing to pull a fast one. It still amazed her that way too many people in Cherico had not wised up to his political method acting. Or, maybe they had but were just plain addicted to it—even wholly mesmerized by it. Put succinctly, the man was truly golden—getting continually reelected without a serious challenge.

Then, as everyone began dispersing when Councilman Sparks had finally wrapped up his performance, he took Maura Beth and Rogers Jernigan aside and spoke confidentially, putting his arms around their shoulders. “This little ceremony was all fine and dandy, but the three of us will need to put our heads together in my office this afternoon. I'm sure if we bear down hard enough, we can come up with some solutions to our problems. After all, we need to have the best interests of our fellow Chericoans at heart.”

Maura Beth noted with a growing sense of trepidation that the politician and the architect were smiling, while she was not. But a walk to her car with Jeremy beside her was somewhat reassuring.

“You hang in there, Maurie,” he told her, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. “Whatever this is about, just don't let them rattle you.” His sweet little kiss sealed the deal. “And I'll see you back at the apartment for the blow by blow.”

As she slid into the front seat and turned the key with a lingering smile, she fully appreciated what it meant to be a couple. In short, she no longer had to face anything alone.

3

On the Cheap and Off the Rack

A
t the moment, Maura Beth's meeting with Councilman Sparks and Rogers Jernigan was immersed in annoying déjà vu. How many times over the years had she endured similar inquisitions in the plush offices of City Hall? True, Chunky Badham and Gopher Joe Martin were nowhere to be found, but that made the current ordeal even more uncomfortable to endure. If nothing else, those two good ole boys usually provided much-needed comic relief with their frequent malapropisms and non sequiturs. No such luck today, however.

“There's something you need to understand, Miz Mayhew,” Councilman Sparks was saying from behind his highly polished, massive desk. It had the effect of making him look and sound even more authoritative. “These blueprints of ours aren't written in stone. Perhaps we'd better let our distinguished architect here explain our concerns to you. Will you do the honors, sir?”

Councilman Sparks gestured toward Rogers Jernigan, who was seated across from him in one of the room's great leather chairs. “I'll be delighted, of course,” he said, turning toward the nearby Maura Beth with a forced smile on his face. But there was a nervousness about it that seemed to be oozing from his every pore.

She winced the moment he spoke up. She had found working with him on a consulting basis to be pleasant enough, but it was the way he had continually deferred to Councilman Sparks that had never failed to get on her nerves. “Yes, Durden,” he would say while the three of them were discussing the needs of a twenty-first century library. “I understand your point here. I realize there is only so much money in the till. You can count on me to keep that in mind.” And on and on. She could not recall a single instance in which he had even come close to bucking City Hall's directives.

Summoning her best professional training, of course, she had endeavored to make Rogers understand things from a librarian's point of view. Although she had the gut feeling he was not really on her side no matter what she said, he had generally acquiesced in these sessions—perhaps just to keep the peace. But now here they were going over all of it again, and she feared the worst.

“You see, Miz Mayhew,” Rogers continued in a decidedly patronizing tone, “as any architect will tell you, there are junctures in the construction of any building. By that I mean, once you reach a certain point, you can't undo things. Well, you can tear out walls and windows and such, but it will cost a ton of money and cause unacceptable delays. We certainly want to avoid that if we can. So, Durden and I would like to revisit a couple of items in the plans that we might want to change before we reach these junctures down the road in a few more months. For instance, there's this teen room concept. We feel that—”

Maura Beth straightened up and quickly interrupted, as her worst fears were confirmed. “What about the teen room? Are you proposing that we do away with it? I thought we'd resolved that issue once and for all. I can't believe you're bringing it up again.”

Rogers cast a furtive glance toward Councilman Sparks, as if looking for validation. “You'll remember that we had quite a discussion about it the first time around.”

“That's a polite way of describing it,” Maura Beth said, recalling how hard she had fought for it. Really, they had tried to work her to the bone, but somehow she had managed to stand up for herself and for her new library.

“The thing is,” Rogers continued, “if we close up that space when the time comes, we could save a lot of money. It wouldn't be a problem to use that area for more shelving instead. That would even be a practical benefit to you. Besides which, don't you think teenagers are old enough to come into the library and make their own decisions without being directed to a special room?”

Maura Beth gathered herself, trying to slow down her quickening heartbeat. “Gentlemen, as I explained in some detail earlier, I'm trying to be proactive about the library's future readers. If we can get the children and teens to view the library as a fun outing—maybe even the ‘in' place to go, say, after school—we've won the battle against the smartphones and tablets and all these other devices that can keep them from discovering the joy of holding a book in your hand and reading.”

Councilman Sparks stepped in with a triumphant look on his face. “You're saying these kids can't read on these devices? I think you're on the wrong side of history if you believe you can stop them from buying and using all these gadgets. Besides, why should we be babysitters for these teenagers? Doesn't this amount to glorified daycare? And do you know how much money we could save by not putting that enormous flat-screen TV in there? How is letting them watch TV encouraging them to read? If I know kids, they'll be watching all those DVDs and not giving books a second thought. I think you'll just be compounding the problem.”

“But we'll be buying educational DVDs about learning languages, travel, history, documentaries—that sort of thing.”

“Do we really need this extra item in the budget? Won't we just be sending them home to watch more TV?!”

Maura Beth had never seen Councilman Sparks quite this prepared and adamant before. He was like a guard dog pulling at a postman's trousers. But she knew only too well that it was all about the money that she and Nora Duddney had forced him behind the scenes to contribute toward the construction of the new library. Money that had never belonged to him or his family in the first place; that his father had stolen from the public funds intended to create Cherico's first library over seventy-five years ago. Now, it was obvious to her that he was trying to cut corners to put some of that ill-gotten loot back into his account.

“Councilman Sparks,” Maura Beth answered, “was that grand speech you just gave out at the lake a bunch of hollow words? It certainly seems that way to me right now. You went on and on about how Cherico would be getting a state-of-the-art building. Do I need to remind you that this library will bear your name?”

“So what?”

“So it will reflect poorly upon you if this facility ends up actually not being state of the art. Your legacy will be tarnished, I can assure you, and I know you don't want that to happen.”

That seemed to give the councilman pause, if only for a moment. “I can appreciate that. But these are legitimate questions I have here, Miz Mayhew. Please indulge me for a moment. For instance, what about this large space dedicated to . . . what was the term you used again, ‘technicalities'? What the hell does that mean? Are you talking about unforeseen emergencies or something? This isn't a hospital, you know. We've got Cherico Memorial for that.”

Maura Beth couldn't help but crack a smile. “As I explained previously, that would be technical services, Councilman. I don't just wiggle my nose like Elizabeth Montgomery to get the books on the shelves where they belong. Many's the long day I've wished it could be like that, but unfortunately it's not. The books have to be processed so we can scan them at the front desk and keep track of them. We have to add things like bar codes and MARC records—that's how we get them into the collection so the public can use them. We'll be hiring a full-time tech services librarian, and we'll need more book carts and tables and computers, for starters. But it's long overdue. I've had to do this all by myself the past six years, so I'm truly looking forward to delegating that responsibility.”

Councilman Sparks whistled and then gestured over his head with a
Whoosh!
that let Maura Beth know everything she had explained had fallen on deaf ears. “I don't know about all this. I feel like you're the mechanic insisting that my car needs some part I've never heard of. Somehow I think you're taking advantage of us with all these fancy terms and stipulations.”

Maura Beth felt something inside snap. If there was something akin to a composure bone in her body, it had just been shattered. But she wisely took a deep breath to let the crisis pass. She had no intention of taking this latest pronouncement lying down or letting it push her over the edge. “Since I came to Cherico six years ago, I've never been in a position to take advantage of anyone. My parents already think I'm crazy to stay here at my salary and do all the things I have to do to keep the library halfway up and running. But this new facility we're building out at the lake has been a silver lining for me. It's what's keeping me going. That and my upcoming marriage.”

“Yes, that is a bit of good news for you,” Councilman Sparks said with an exaggerated smile that quickly disappeared. “To that Mr. McShay you introduced me to today under the tent, I understand. And a fine-looking, responsible young lad he is, I'm sure. What was it he was going to be teaching out at the high school? Shop? Soldering? Or maybe woodwork? I know it must be rewarding teaching students how to make mailboxes.”

Maura Beth recognized the dig but refused to let it bother her. “No, he's teaching English, as a matter of fact. He has some wonderful ideas about bringing literature to life for his students. He calls it ‘Living the Classics in the Real World.' He first got the idea when he was teaching up in Nashville.”

“Fancy,” Councilman Sparks said with a smirk. “But I do feel I should warn you that our principal, Obie Hutchinson, is somewhat of a traditionalist when it comes to the curriculum. Readin', writin', and 'rithmetic, as he might put it. I certainly wouldn't put our Obie on the cutting edge of educational ideas.”

Maura Beth gave him a fleeting smile but was determined to stay on point. “I'm sure Jeremy will work things out. He's going to be very patient about it all. But back to the subject of our blueprints, gentlemen. I can assure you that a tech services room and a teen room are not frivolous suggestions I've invented just to spend more money. I fully realize we have a fixed amount to work with, but when we accepted the bid of Thomas Grayson and Sons Construction, we all agreed that it came in under our ceiling by quite a bit. Doing things on the cheap at this stage is just not the way to go.” The look of disdain on Councilman Sparks's face convinced Maura Beth that she needed to show her ace in the hole once again.

“Besides,” she continued, raising her voice slightly, “Nora Duddney and I have agreed that we need to keep an eye on all things regarding the library, past and present. I'm sure you understand what I mean, Councilman.”

While Rogers Jernigan looked puzzled, Councilman Sparks immediately conjured up his best reelection smile and did not miss a beat. “City Hall has always appreciated your point of view, of course.”

“Then are we finally agreed that the teen room, along with the tech services room and librarian, will be an integral part of our wonderful new facility? No fudging the plans and second-guessing down the road?” Maura Beth concluded with a saucy tilt of her head.

Councilman Sparks rose from behind his desk, leaned over, and offered his hand. “I think you've answered our questions to our satisfaction, Miz Mayhew. Hasn't she, Rogers?”

Still looking mystified, Rogers managed a perfunctory, “Uh . . . yes.” And that was the end of that.

 

“This has been quite a day for both of us,” Maura Beth said, back at her efficiency on Clover Street. She and Jeremy were seated next to each other on her rust-colored sofa, holding hands and gazing affectionately at one another. There were many times they found themselves doing that and saying nothing. But this time they had much to discuss. “We were both tested but came through with flying colors.”

“This is just round one for me with Obie Hutchinson,” Jeremy added. “But at least I let him know who I am.”

Maura Beth drew herself up proudly. “Well, I think it's finally beginning to dawn on Durden Sparks that his glory days of intimidating me have come to an end. He got away with it for far too long; but as far as I'm concerned, I think I've slain that dragon. Or at least put out his fire.”

Jeremy leaned in and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “You are my princess warrior, Maurie.”

The phone rang and Maura Beth hurried over to the kitchenette counter to answer it. She covered the receiver and loudly whispered the words “My mother!” in Jeremy's general direction as the conversation began.

“Were you in the middle of something?” Cara Lynn Mayhew asked at the other end.

Maura Beth enthusiastically gave the details of the groundbreaking ceremony in response.

“Sounds like something exciting went on up there for once,” Cara Lynn continued. “I'm happy for you.”

Maura Beth drew back in surprise but quickly recovered. “I can assure you I'm very happy, Mama. So, what's up?”

When Cara Lynn finally spoke up after a significant pause, she appeared to be playing a game of twenty questions. “Well . . . I was wondering . . . how I should dress for this upcoming Cherico outing? I mean, will I need any formal clothes? I'm thinking I probably won't. Does anyone ever dress for dinner up there?”

Maura Beth shot Jeremy an exasperated glance as she exhaled. She could picture her mother exquisitely coiffed and accessorized at this very moment, sitting at her antique writing desk; her makeup skillfully applied, and her tall, trim figure shown off to perfection by whatever designer outfit she was wearing.

“Mama, I know for a fact you have clothes for every occasion in that walk-in closet of yours. I've never seen you inappropriately dressed. You even look ready for the runway in your bathrobe with your hair dripping wet after you shower. Plus, everyone who is anyone at all knows you're the unquestionable fashion maven of the entire metropolitan New Orleans area.”

“Thank you for that,” came the perfunctory reply, “but this little Cherico of yours cannot possibly be anything like the Crescent City. Why, there's no comparison whatsoever. I was thinking I could get by with a few simple frocks if all I'm going to be doing is staying at a fishing lodge and visiting a library.”