Page 69 of The Fall Back Plan
“I’m glad you’re here,” Mrs. Herring continues. “Jolie, I expected to see you before now. Have you considered my proposal?”
“I have,” Jolie says. She hesitates, then sighs. “I was going to tell you that I’d like to volunteer, but not to teach financial literacy classes. I think I could be more helpful doing some afterschool tutoring.”
“Wonderful,” Mrs. Herring says. “When can you start?”
There’s another almost wince. “There’s kind of a situation right now, Mrs. Herring. I don’t think this is a good time.”
“What kind of situation?” the librarian asks.
Jolie closes her eyes and breathes out through her nose for a few counts. Then she opens them and says, “It’s honestly so stupid, but I’ve been accused of leaving dolls at some people’s houses to harass them, I guess? Right now, it’s about like inviting the boogeyman to come tutor.”
“Thatisridiculous,” Mrs. Herring says. “Whoever is suggesting that has a good enough imagination to be making up stories I could shelve here. And it changes nothing for me. When would you like to start volunteering?”
“Are you sure?” Jolie asks. She sounds so uncertain but hopeful, and it breaks my heart a little. It also makes me want to write Sloane Oakley-Hunsaker at least a dozen citations for being a public nuisance.
“Am I sure that someone who had the Dewey decimal system memorized by sixth grade would be a good tutor for some of the kids who hang around here after school?” Mrs. Herring’s eyes twinkle. “Quite sure, Jolie. So, next week?”
“That would work,” Jolie says. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Herring shakes her head. “You don’t need to thank me for doing me a favor. Goodness, girl. I’m planning to bring you a pie on your first day.”
Jolie looks so pleased by this that I immediately resolve to learn how to make pie. I want her to look as happy to see me as she does about getting that pie.
“You have a deal,” she tells Mrs. Herring.
We excuse ourselves to trail after Brooklyn, but when it becomes clear that she and Jolie speak a book language I have no way of understanding, I let them know I’m going to head over to my office.
They barely lift their eyes from the map inside of some fantasy book to tell me goodbye.
I walk out smiling, but it fades as I cross the street to the station.
It’s time to get down to business, which means putting Jolie and her insanely kissable-looking lips out of mind.
Ha.
Or at least trying to.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jolie
WhenSophiesaidshewas going to “run with trivia night,” I don’t think I’d understood exactly how excited she was about it. She must have spent her entire Sunday working on this, because when I drive into town on Monday, at least half the store windows are displaying a bright blue flyer advertising Thursday Trivia.
I park and walk down Maple, looking at the posters, crossing over to get some Cataloochee coffee at the café so I can stroll up the other way and enjoy the view. Each bright spot of blue releases a tiny, happy flutter in my chest.
Once I have my coffee, I walk back up Maple, again spotting trivia posters in nearly every other window. I nip into the bookstore to see if they have any new events scheduled to take Brooklyn to. As I pass the old men and a young woman who always hang out there, one of them calls, “Hey, there, gal.”
I check over my shoulder, but he clucks and says, “Yes, I mean you. Come on over here for a minute if you don’t mind a few old men.”
I walk closer. “Can I help you with something?”
“Maybe,” he says. “I’m Henry and these are my friends, Floyd, Jean, and Hazel. You’re the gal that owns the new place? The bird bar?”
“The Mockingbird, yes. That’s me.” Am I about to be interrogated about the dolls? My stomach tightens, and I brace myself.
“Is there an age limit on that trivia night?” he asks.
Oh. “You have to be twenty-one.”
