Page 45 of Summer Reading

I snapped my head in the direction of the house. Sure enough, Em was perched on the edge of one of the chairs. Her shoulders were hunched, and she looked as if she was bracing herself for bad news.

I shut off the engine and said, “I’ll explain more later. Right now, I need to talk to Em.”

Tyler glanced from me to her and back. “Okay.”

He hopped out of the car and strode up the steps. He waved to Em as he passed, unlocking the door and disappearing into the house.

I climbed up the steps. “Hey.”

Em shot to her feet. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I should have tackled Mrs. Bascomb to the ground and stuffed that stupid form into her mouth before she could say any of that mean stuff. I hate bullies. I’m a terrible friend and I’m just so fucking sorry.”

I blinked. Em was not a swearer. Having worked in high-pressure kitchens with lots of rough-and-tumble culinary types who needed the occasional profanity laced instructions, cursing was really more my forte. I gave her a small smile, trying to let her know it was okay, even though in regard to Mrs. Bascomb, my feelings were still a bit raw.

I gestured for her to sit back down, and then I did the same. “It’s not your fault. You’re certainly not responsible for the thoughtlessness of that old shrew.”

Em put her hand on her forehead and leaned back. “Maybe not, but I should have been quicker to shut her up and shut her down. I just feel awful. Ben was furious.”

My ears perked up. “Furious?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “The former director, Louis Drexel, was more of a figurehead. Between you and me, Mrs. Bascomb really ran the library for the last five years of his time with us. She set the schedules, did the payroll, went to the meetings, basically all of the administrative stuff, while he playedFreeCellon his computer.”

“Oh.” I didn’t want to feel sympathy for the mean lady, but I felt a twinge of something. It wasn’t right that she’d been doing the heavy lifting without compensation.

“Donotfeel sorry for her,” Em said. “She is not the type of person who should have any authority at all ever. She’s vicious, and even a little power, like having you sign a contract, goes right to her head. I’m positive she was looking for a reason to pitch a fit because Ben okayed your program after the deadline and, you know, rules.”

“Will this cause a problem for you?” I asked. I was feeling alarmed that my cooking program was going to be an issue.

“No, that sort of thing happens all the time. Mrs. Bascomb’s just mad because when Ben arrived, he stepped up and took charge of the library like a real director and she lost all of her authority and she’s... well... pissed.”

“Oh,” I said. “I don’t want to get you guys in trouble.”

“You won’t,” Em said. “Ben made it clear to her that he was going to go after you and make sure you didn’t file a complaint about her insensitivity with human resources.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said. I leaned back in my seat feeling as if everything had gotten so messed up all because of me. Ugh.

“You know that, and I know that, and Ben probably knows that, too, but Mrs. Bascomb doesn’t and honestly, she needs to do a little self-reflection on the way she deals with people,” Em said. “Believe me, you did us a favor, although I’m still sorry she was such a bitch.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

We sat silently for a while. I glanced at the neighbor’s yard. Their white picket fence propped up a tumble of bright pink summer roses and blue hydrangeas. There was a buzz in the air as if the bees were working overtime to gather all the pollen.

“Ben took a looooong lunch,” Em said. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, which was already wrinkle-free.

“Did he?” I asked.

“Aw, come on,” she said. “I’m your best friend and I have no life and I need to live vicariously through you. Give me details. I saw Ben talking to Tyler, so I know he was asking him where to find you.”

I flashed on the beach, sitting with Ben, enjoying my sandwich while he read to me. It had been a perfect afternoon. I wasn’t ready to share it yet, however. I wanted to savor the details and keep them to myself for a bit.

“He found me,” I said. “He brought me a sandwich and we talked.”

“Talked?” she asked. She was grinning, and she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

“Yes, talked,” I said. “We were on a public beach, you know, with families and stuff. Not really private enough for anything else.”

“That disappoints,” she said. “I was really hoping for some ‘how did sand get there?’ deets.” She made an alarmed expression and I laughed. She tipped her head to the side and added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. I’ve dealt with much, much worse.” Like being passed over for a job I deserved, I thought, but I didn’t say it.

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