Page 9 of Haunted Hearts
“While the safety upgrades will include things like reinforcing the foundations, re-roofing, and updating the wiring and HVAC, you can see the main differences here in the floor plans are the wheelchair ramps and, of course, that new computer lab, which we’ll actually be building on from scratch.”
They’re adding a whole new room onto the original structure? I frown, racking my brains to remember how much the area of a building can differ from its original floor plan to qualify for historical landmark status.
Suddenly, I feel my hand shoot up in the air like I’m a freaking high school student.
“Um…” Will says, nodding to me. “Lydia? You have a question?”
He’s got this infuriating little smile on his face, and I see him share an amused glance with Ethan, who just shakes his head. I know I’m being a nuisance, but I don’t care. This meeting’s not only about these two assholes. It’s about thetown. It’s about preservinghistory. And that’s why I came to this meeting in the first place—to help them see just how important the historical authenticity of this building is to Hawthorne Bay.
“Yes. How many square feet is that?”
“Four hundred.” Will’s voice is steady as he meets my gaze across the room.
God, his eyes are blue. I look down at the table in front of me, knowing there must be pink creeping into my cheeks. “Is that… a lot?”
Will crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, the muscles of his biceps straining at the fabric of his t-shirt. With the way he’s standing, I can’t help but notice the slight curve in his jeans where his bulge is. I tear my eyes away from it. What the hell iswrongwith me?
He cocks his head slightly, gives me a look that’s somewhere between suspicion and amusement. Shit. If this guy—oranyone in this room—just caught me checking out his bulge…
“It’s substantial,” he says, nodding.
For a second, I forget what I even asked. Because where my thoughts just were… let’s just say his answer would have worked for that, too.
I pull myself together and clear my throat, looking around at the rest of the board. “Well, as you all know, Hawthorne Bay is an important town in Massachusetts state history. The Great Shipyard Fire of 1821 happened here, and every summer there’sthe Lantern Regatta commemorating the rescue efforts and rebuilding of the harbor. It’s also a fact that the Hawthorne Bay Public Library is one of the oldest—if nottheoldest—buildings in town.
“Over this past year, I got to thinking: Wouldn’t it be great if we, as a town, and you, as a board, could secure historical landmark status for the building? It was something my mom always dreamed of—you know how much she loved this place. And aside from honoring the history of our town and our ancestors, it’d also serve us economically. I really think that with the right positioning?—”
“I understand your concerns,” Ethan says, his voice brusque. He clicks his pen against the table. “And we’ll make sure the library’s history is honored.”
“Please,” I say, looking steadily at both Ethan and Will. This is my final, last-ditch attempt to make them understand how important this is to me, and by god, I am not going to waste it. “I know I wasn’t the only kid in Hawthorne Bay who spent days—literaldays—basking in this library. Do you know what I used to do? It sounds silly now, but I used to pretend I was a princess, that the library was my castle. I’d curl up in a corner and read, all afternoon, and when it was closing time and the librarian would go around shutting off lights, I used to slide down that banister in the foyer and imagine I was?—”
This time it’s Nancy who cuts me off with a nervous laugh. She pats my arm, turning to look at me like I’m a little kid who just lost a soccer game. It’s the same look Mrs. Corey gave me at our meeting this morning, and I fucking hate that Nancy’s wearing it, too.
“Now, Lydia. I know you loved to come here as a child, but that’s exactlywhywe need these additions. The library needs to fit the needs of our modern community.”
“Well said,” Ethan announces.
He turns back to Will, gesturing for him to continue, but Will hesitates, his gaze flitting sideways to see if I’ll respond. But I don’t. I don’t have the energy to argue with these arrogant assholes. Not after they’ve made it so clear they’re not interested in hearing me out.
The presentation continues, and Will’s deep voice drones on. As he clicks through the slides, flicking through design renderings and pointing out features, I’m only vaguely aware of what he’s saying. Under the table, I pull out my phone. If I let the details of this presentation sink in, I’m afraid I’m going to burst out crying. Or something.
Keeping my phone hidden under the table, I shoot off a text to Autumn, my best friend since college. I obviously didn’t know her yet in second grade, but she knows all about how Mom used to bring me to the library after school and in the summer, and how I came on my own after Mom died because I had nowhere else to go. She knows how my last memory of Mom—last memory before it all went to shit, anyway—is here. Autumn knows what this place means to me.
LYDIA: So you know how the library’s being restored or whatever?
AUTUMN: Yeah…
LYDIA: Well, it turns out they’re basically gutting the place.
AUTUMN: NOOOO you’re fucking kidding me!! Right??
LYDIA: I wish.
AUTUMN: So does that mean the landmark thing is out?
LYDIA: Ding ding. We have a winner.
AUTUMN: Wowwwww that’s some bullshit right there
