Miranda James - The Silence of the Library

Ten minutes later, satisfied that I had a representative selection of both well-known and nowadays obscure series books, I stacked one carton atop the other and carried them downstairs. I had to move with care because I couldn’t see my feet. I made it safely enough to the second floor and took the cartons into my bedroom. Since I hadn’t planned to take them to the library until tomorrow morning, they could stay here for now.

My cell phone rang while I headed down to the kitchen, and I pulled it from my pocket as I reached the first floor. According to the number that appeared on the display, Teresa was calling from her office at the library.

I barely had a chance to say “Hello” before Teresa burst into speech. “Charlie, can you come back to the library right away? Mrs. Cartwright’s daughter called. She and her son are on the way here to discuss Mrs. Cartwright’s fee for next week.”

I knew Teresa had no money in her budget to pay an author for appearing at an event. Neither Mrs. Cartwright nor her daughter had broached the subject when we visited them. What could we do about this? Especially after we’d already advertised on the library’s website that Mrs. Cartwright would appear.

I assured Teresa I would be there in a few minutes. “We’ll figure something out.” I tried to sound confident, but unless Mrs. Marter was reasonable about the amount, we would have to cancel.

TEN

Diesel chirped away in the backseat during our second trip of the day to the public library. My daughter, Laura, laughingly claimed he was conversing with us when he did that, because sometimes he was quite voluble. He would occasionally pause, cock his head to the side, and gaze up at the recipient of his confidences as if he expected a response. There were even times when I figured I knew what he was attempting to tell me, but now wasn’t one of those times. I let him chatter on until I parked the car at the library.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go in and see your buddies again.”

Diesel hopped over the seat and climbed out as I held the door open for him. Finally quiet, he padded beside me as we entered the library.

Bronwyn looked up from the reference desk as we neared. After greeting us in turn—Diesel first, as usual—she said, “Teresa is in her office. She’s really upset. Do you think she’ll cancel the whole exhibit?” Diesel disappeared behind the desk, and I knew he went to rub against Bronwyn. That would make her feel better.

Bronwyn had put in many hours preparing for the exhibit. She had a flair for art and had created the posters, besides the work she had done getting our exhibit cases cleaned and ready. “We’ll do our best to resolve things with Mrs. Cartwright and her family.” I spoke with more confidence than I felt, but I wanted to erase the worried look from Bronwyn’s face. She nodded and attempted a smile.

I heard Diesel warble at her, and with her attention diverted to the cat, I headed to Teresa’s office.

When I walked in, I found her seated at her desk, glaring at her computer screen. “There’s no way. Absolutely no way.”

“Looking at the budget, I presume.” I sat in one of the chairs across from her.

Teresa nodded wearily as she turned to face me. “The money just isn’t there. Even if they were asking only a few hundred dollars.”

“How much do they want?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the figure.

“Seventy-five hundred.” Teresa still sounded shaken as she spoke the words.

“Good heavens.” Far worse than I’d imagined. “How do they think a small public library could come up with money like that?”

“You tell me.” She closed her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingertips. “I knew that big-name writers often get paid for doing talks at libraries, but I’ve heard they will sometimes waive their fees in special cases. This is as about as special a case as I can imagine.”

“Perhaps we can bargain with them, get them to drop the price.” I tried to sound encouraging. “Maybe even persuade them to drop their demand for a fee at all.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. When Mrs. Marter called to inform me about the fee, she sounded firm. I don’t think they’ll budge.”

“In that case we will simply tell them the exhibit will go on but without any appearance by Mrs. Cartwright. That would be a shame, but we have no other choice.”

Teresa nodded. “I thought about calling Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce, but they’re so generous as it is. I hate to go to them with my hands out yet again.”

The Ducote sisters—known to everyone in Athena as Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce—were the town’s richest citizens and the mainstays of all charitable efforts. They might be happy to oblige such a request, but I understood Teresa’s reluctance to approach them in this instance.

“I called Carrie Taylor,” Teresa continued, “and asked her to join us. I may be grasping at straws, but since she has devoted so much of her time to Mrs. Cartwright and her work, I didn’t think it would hurt to have another person to make an appeal on our behalf.”

“Good idea. Let’s hope you’re right.” I was about to say more, but Teresa looked past me at the doorway. I turned to see Mrs. Taylor paused there. I stood and offered her my chair and pulled another one near the desk for myself.

Teresa quickly filled Mrs. Taylor in, and the older woman frowned when she heard the details. “That’s outrageous. I dearly love Mrs. Cartwright and her books, but they ought to be ashamed for trying to stick the library with such a crazy demand.” She sniffed. “I’ll be willing to bet you EBC doesn’t know a thing about this. It’s that greedy grandson of hers. Never could hold down a job from what I’ve heard tell.”

Mrs. Taylor evidently knew more about the family than I realized. I wondered who the source of her information was. I was about to ask when she forestalled me. “I’m in frequent contact with EBC’s agent, Yancy Thigpen. She’s been a lot more informative about things than the man who used to represent EBC.”

Gossiping about a client didn’t sound at all ethical to me, but it didn’t appear to faze Mrs. Taylor.

“Of course, there are things I can’t print.” Mrs. Taylor gave us a smug smile. “Yancy tells me my little newsletter is the best of its kind she’s ever seen, and she doesn’t mind sharing these little tidbits with me. I’m sure she has EBC’s permission anyway. She knows I won’t spread them around.”

Teresa and I glanced at each other and then quickly away. The irony of her claim appeared to be lost on Mrs. Taylor.

“What about this agent?” I asked. “Should we call her and explain the situation? She must have dealt with this kind of thing before.”

“I have her number written down somewhere.” Teresa hunted through three small stacks of paper on her desk until she found what she needed. She punched in the digits on her office phone while Mrs. Taylor and I waited in silence.

“Good afternoon. I’d like to speak to Yancy Thigpen please.” Teresa paused for a moment. “Teresa Farmer, director of the public library in Athena, Mississippi. I’ve spoken with Ms. Thigpen before.” Another pause, much longer this time. Finally Teresa said, “I see. Thank you very much.” She put down the receiver.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Taylor said, “she wouldn’t talk to you, would she?” She sounded upset.

“No, it wasn’t that.” Teresa smiled. “Actually, it’s probably good news. The assistant, or whoever he was, told me Ms. Thigpen is flying down to Athena today.” She checked her watch. “In fact, she should have arrived at the airport in Memphis by now. She ought to be in town in an hour or so, unless she gets lost on the way.”