Summer on Mirror Lake

by JoAnn Ross

  “Carter Kensington’s life was excessive,” Gabe argued. “Mine isn’t.”

  “Being a workaholic is excessive in its own way,” Kaplan said.

  The damn guy just wouldn’t let up. “You do realize that arguing my lifestyle probably isn’t good for my blood pressure.”

  “Yet you feel the need to defend it,” the doctor said mildly.

  “To a guy who probably works the same hours.”

  “My work’s not nine-to-five. But I’m going out tonight with my wife to watch our daughter’s ballet recital. She’s excited because her tutu has sequins and she gets to wear a sparkly tiara. Which she’s going to wear afterward, when we go out for pizza. Because that’s her favorite thing. Even if she does insist on pineapple on it. I blame that slight flaw in judgment on her mother.

  “You’re obviously an intelligent man, Mr. Mannion. Perhaps you ought to consider using some of your brainpower to come up with a way to achieve a better work-life balance. Before I see one of your friends having worried about dropping your casket thirteen years from now.”

  “Ouch. Mic drop.”

  Kaplan’s lips quirked, giving Gabe the impression that the sadistic son of a bitch was actually enjoying this. “You’re free to leave,” he said. “But, seriously, you don’t have to turn into a ski instructor. Why don’t you try figuring out something that gives you pleasure, and make time for it? While you still have that option. Because I’d rather not see you back in my emergency room anytime soon.”

  With that he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Honeymoon Harbor, Washington

  “OKAY,” CHELSEA PRESCOTT SAID. “We have the summer reading challenge, art lessons with Michael Mannion, the trip out to Blue House Farm so kids can actually see where their food comes from, a tour of Herons Landing B&B from Seth Harper and Brianna Mannion, who’ll point out all the renovations and tell the story of the Whistler mural, which the reading adventurers will have already learned about beforehand during the trip to the historical museum.

  “What else can we come up with for the summer?” she asked her staff, which consisted of one other librarian, Farrah Shalhoub, who’d recently moved there from Spokane; two paid assistants; five volunteers; and the sixty something former librarian, Lillian Henderson, who, despite having retired, still checked in at least once a week to make sure the place hadn’t fallen apart without her.

  “This is beginning to sound more like a summer camp than a library,” grumbled Janet Mayburn, one of the volunteers.

  “We’re in the business of opening minds,” Chelsea said patiently. She’d been hearing those objections from Janet since she’d first begun planning the library’s summer event calendar in January. She’d continued to bite her tongue, because the truth was that funds were low and she couldn’t afford to offend anyone willing to work for free. “Books take readers on adventures to different places and times, but we’re still talking about our very short Pacific Northwest summers, and although it may be hard for us to believe, there are a lot of kids who don’t want to spend those sunny days inside the library.”

  “Those are the ones we especially want to reach,” said Dottie Anderson, half owner of The Dancing Deer dress shop and a volunteer.

  “Because reading is fundamental,” said Doris, her twin and business partner.

  “Exactly!” Chelsea was tempted to kiss them both. “Those who don’t think of a library as a place to find adventure are the ones who’ll get the most out of the program. Because once we get them inside the doors, we can hook them on reading.”

  “What about the liability issues?” Janet pressed.

  “That’s covered. Although Quinn Mannion is no longer a practicing attorney, he’s still licensed, so he wrote a permission form for parents to sign. I also talked to the mayor, and he assured me that we’re covered under the county insurance.”

  “People can still sue.”

  “Any idiot can sue for any reason,” Lillian Henderson jumped in with a sigh of the impatience Chelsea herself was trying to hide. “That’s what insurance is for.”

  Although the retired librarian had made her library a safe place for Chelsea during some very difficult childhood years, she’d also run a tight ship. No one had ever argued with her when she was behind the checkout desk. Apparently, Janet wasn’t prepared to start now. She merely crossed her arms and shook her head. But, Chelsea noted, she didn’t get up and march out in a huff.

  “So,” she forged on, “any other ideas?”

  “How about a tour of Mannion’s microbrewery?” asked Lily Carpenter, Chelsea’s friend and fourth volunteer, who was director of marketing and promotion at Clearwater Community College.

  “Great. Let’s teach the kids to drink,” Janet muttered.

  “It could be a special event for the older kids,” said Susan Long, who taught chemistry at the high school. “The same way going out to Blue House Farm can teach kids where their food comes from, learning about brewing can show them that by knowing chemistry, you can turn grains, hops, water and yeast into one of the world’s oldest beverages. It makes science more relevant to everyday life.”

  “Also, the first evidence of beer production dates back to Egypt and Mesopotamia in the fifth millennium BC,” said Farrah, who had received a bachelor’s degree in Middle East studies at Pomona College in California before earning her MLS degree at the University of Washington. “So, there’s an opportunity to throw some ancient history into the mix.”

  “I like that idea.” With the exception of Janet, Chelsea loved her team. “I’ll ask Quinn if he’d be willing to do that.”

  “He’s already giving tours to guests staying at his sister’s bed-and-breakfast,” Mrs. Henderson pointed out. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to do the same for us.”

  “Okay. Any more ideas?”

  While her library admittedly wasn’t the largest on the peninsula, Mrs. Henderson had left her some very big shoes to fill, and not only did Chelsea not intend to let the former librarian—and the town—down, she also wanted to make it the best small-town library in the state.

  “You’re already talking about a lot of activities,” Janet pointed out. “And there aren’t that many of us.”

  “I’ve got that covered,” Chelsea said. “Kids need to demonstrate a sense of responsibility and community service to college admission officers, so I gave a talk about summer volunteerism at the high school last month, which resulted in more applications for volunteer interns than we can possibly use. I’ll be choosing three or four this week. They’ll be great at helping us herd kids. Farrah and I are going to take turns leading the adventures and Mrs. Henderson has agreed to return on those days to help hold down the fort. The volunteers will continue to work on their rotating schedule.”

  Janet folded her arms across her chest, but didn’t object to what Chelsea had personally thought was a brilliant idea.

  “I’m already working on the marketing and promotion,” Lily said. “Adding the brewery will be a big deal, especially since we already have a course on craft brewing at the college. Quinn’s spoken to the classes and he’s both informative and entertaining.”

  “There’s also the fact that he’s not hard to look at,” Doris said.

  “The man definitely inherited those Mannion Black Irish looks,” her sister agreed.

  “Terrific,” Chelsea said, bringing the meeting back to order as all the women’s eyes, even Janet’s, went a bit dreamy. “We’ve just about got this all nailed down. So, why don’t we all think about it a bit longer—”

  “Put our thinking caps on,” Mrs. Henderson broke in with a decisive nod.

  “Exactly.” How Chelsea loved this woman who, along with giving her a safe harbor when she’d so needed it, had provided a focus that had saved her from sinking in the turbulent tides her life had once had. “That’s exactly what we should do. We’re all
intelligent women, and with the program lasting six weeks, we certainly have more opportunities for engagement.” She closed her planner. “Let’s ponder the possibilities over the weekend, and meet back here at five on Tuesday.”

  Monday was one of two days the library was closed to give everyone on her small staff time off. Although when she’d been growing up the library had been closed Sundays and Mondays, Chelsea had found that Mondays and Thursdays were the slowest days. Also, Honeymoon Harbor was a working-class town, and many people couldn’t get to the library during the weekdays. Opening at noon on Sundays brought in a lot of people after church and, now with more restaurants in town, brunch. In addition, the library hours on Wednesdays and Fridays extended to eight o’clock to allow patrons to visit after work hours.

  Mrs. Henderson lingered behind. “You’re doing a dandy job. I was proud of getting funding for the bookmobile to reach people who couldn’t easily come into town on a regular basis. But your summer reading adventurers will go down in the annals of Salish County as the same type of library milestone. Along with the coffee shop.”

  It was more like a large coffee wagon, located in a room that had only ever been used for storage. After Chelsea had presented the idea to keep the library as an important gathering space in the community, the town council had provided the funds to hire restoration and remodeling contractor Seth Harper to open up the room enough to put in some couches and easy chairs for patrons to sit and read.

  Fortunately, the guys at Cops and Coffee had signed a two-year contract to supply the self-service machine. While it didn’t offer the same array of choices as the actual store—their magnificent espresso machine had been special ordered from Italy—there were enough choices, including tea and hot chocolate, which had proved enormously popular during the winter and brought people back to the library.

  As a bonus, the bright blue-and-white wagon could be wheeled to special events in the building, such as author readings and lectures; and they’d even presented travel videos, featuring a different location every month. So far, she’d been able to find local residents who’d returned from vacations with videos to share. Restaurateur Luca Salvadori had shown his own home photos and videos, answered questions and told colorful anecdotes about life in Italy. Luca had been born and raised in Honeymoon Harbor, but had moved with his family to Rome when he was in high school so his mother could care for her aging mother-in-law. Last year he’d come home and reestablished the family restaurant the town had sorely missed.

  “Thank you.” Her mentor’s words meant a great deal to Chelsea. “Of course, if I screw up the reading adventurers program, it could end up an entirely different milestone.” And the city council might fire her.

  “You won’t.” They walked down a sunshine-yellow hallway lined with library-themed posters. “You have mettle, Chelsea Prescott.” The first poster visitors saw when they entered the double doors read Welcome! This is YOUR library! A Place to Discover. Read. Learn. Explore. Have Fun. Connect. Succeed!

  Mrs. Henderson pointed to the poster. “That was always my mantra. In the early days, I had it written on an old-fashioned blackboard.”

  “I know. I remember it well.” Chelsea smiled. “Then you upgraded to brightly colored markers on a whiteboard. I hope you don’t mind that I had Michael Mannion design the poster to replace that.”

  “You have to keep up with the times. As I did when I replaced that messy chalkboard. Also, having a graphic from an artist of Michael’s caliber and fame is a true coup for the library.”

  “We do get the visitors who’ve come to town specifically to shop at his gallery.” She’d been considering asking him if he’d be willing to give the library licensing rights to sell prints of the poster online. She was certain other libraries would prove a lucrative market, thus raising additional, always-needed funds.

  “I do appreciate you keeping my words.”

  “I certainly couldn’t have improved them.” Hadn’t the library under this woman’s tenure been all those things to her?

  “I noticed you also used them on the website design.”

  “I loved the previous header with the photo of the library and harbor behind it, but I thought putting up a mission statement in its place might draw more people in. I did keep the photo in the right margin where visitors can see it.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing, dear,” Mrs. Henderson assured her. “Speaking of the website, have you thought about adding an introductory computer class to the evening learning curriculum sessions? I remember when we first were able to get an internet connection. No one, including me, had any idea how to use it to our best advantage. It was definitely a self-taught, learn-as-you-go experience.”

  “There are still people who aren’t computer literate,” Chelsea said. “I doubt a week goes by that either Farrah or I don’t help someone fill out a résumé and search for a job online. And then there’s the rush of college applications and instructions on essay writing. Many of Honeymoon Harbor’s students are the first in their family to go to college and it can be overwhelming.”

  “As it was before the computer. Though that’s exactly the type of thing I had in mind. Also, I’ve bought items from local craftspeople who could reach more potential customers with websites. But I suspect many don’t have the skills or the money to pay to have one set up, the way Doris and Dottie did when they opened up The Dancing Deer.”

  “Lily updated ours,” Chelsea said. “Not only is she a whiz at marketing, she has mad website design skills. I’ll ask if she’d be willing to teach a couple sessions. One for older kids, and another for the adults.”

  Mrs. Henderson nodded her steel-gray head, her hair flowing down her back in wild waves. No short, “age appropriate” hair for her. “That’s a very good idea.”

  “It was yours.”

  “I know.” Her smile took years from her face. “At my age, I don’t have time to bother with bad ones.”

  They said goodbye and Mrs. Henderson left the library, walking with purpose down the front steps. Although Lillian remained hale, hearty and active, Chelsea always held her breath, waiting for a fall. There was a ramp next to the steps, but the elderly librarian refused to use it.

  Chelsea waited until she’d reached the sidewalk, gotten into her Prius and driven off, before making one last check of the building. In a reading alcove off the children’s section, she found two girls sitting on the chintz-covered love seat—as they’d been most afternoons after school for the past week, reminding her of a time when this very library had been her home away from home. Back when that dark, suffocating cloud had lowered over the pretty Prescott family Cape Cod home.

  Chelsea mentally shook off the pain that still hurt all these years later, and brought out her friendly librarian smile. “Hello, girls,” she said.

  The eyes of the older girl, who Chelsea guessed to be twelve or so years old, were guarded. “Hi.” Her tone was flat. Disinterested.

  “Hi!” the younger one, who looked about five years old, said. Her grin was as wide as a slice of summer melon. “I’m Hailey and this is my big sister, Hannah. We’re reading about dragons.”

  “What fun. I like dragons.”

  “Me, too.” Wheat-blond curls bobbed as she enthusiastically nodded her head. “They have fire coming out of their snouts.” Her brow wrinkled, much as Mrs. Henderson’s had. “But they only scorch and eat bad people.”

  “Then the three of us are safe.”

  “We are! That’s why I don’t have nightmares about them.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Hannah gave me my own guardian dragon.” Hailey reached into a Disney princess book bag and pulled out a fluffy green stuffed animal. “This is Daisy. My other one is invisible to everyone but me.”

  “That’s very special. And I like this one.” It was well-worn and missing a leg.

  “Me, too. My invisible dragon
is always with me, like a guardian angel. It burns away any monsters that might try to sneak up on me in the dark.”

  Chelsea glanced at the older sister, whose return look, like her earlier one, managed to be expressionless and stony at the same time.

  “You’re lucky to have such a good big sister.” Chelsea remembered all too well how it had felt to be a big sister. From the time her parents had brought Annabelle home from Honeymoon Harbor General Hospital, she’d felt as if her heart had grown three—no, make that four—sizes the instant those big blue eyes had looked up into hers. And when the tiny hand had grabbed on to her finger, she’d known they would be bonded for life. What she’d had no way of knowing was how short her younger sister’s life would be.

  “I know.” Hailey looked up at her sister. “Hannah’s always taken care of me. Everywhere we’ve moved.”

  That explained why Chelsea didn’t recognize them. Apparently they were new to Honeymoon Harbor.

  “Would you like to take that book with you?” she asked. “So you can finish it at home?”

  “Yes!”

  “We don’t have a library card.” Hannah’s statement was edged with a challenge.

  “That’s not a problem,” Chelsea said blithely. “All you need is a parent, or guardian, to sign the application form for you, and you can have your own cards. Meanwhile, I trust you. And when you return it, I’ll have other dragon books waiting for you.”

  “That would be awesome.” Little hands with sparkly nail polish crossed over Hailey’s heart. “Wouldn’t it, Hannah?”

  “Yeah.” The older sister seemed less than pleased. Or, perhaps, she was merely guarded with strangers. Which was a good thing these days. Even in this small peninsula town.

  Getting the message that the library was about to close, Hannah put the book into her own bag and stood up. “Come on, Hailey. We’ve got to go.”

  “Okay.” The little hand took hold of the larger one. “Thank you, library lady,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” Chelsea responded. “Could I call your mother for you?”