The Wedding Circle Read online

  Maura Beth was staring up at the ceiling, putting a finger to her lips. “I might just go crazy. Pink, or maybe even purple to match my walls at home.”

  “What fun!”

  “Yes, wouldn’t it be? I’ll have light and color and some real space to put an end to all of this miserable clutter once and for all. This dark little closet I’ve been sentenced to all these years has almost made me feel like Maura Beth, the Vampire Librarian.”

  Renette laughed brightly. “Hey, with all the spooky, gory stuff the kids are hooked on these days, you probably could’ve made that work for you. Maybe you could’ve come to work in costume.” Then she checked her watch. “Oops! I guess I’d better get back to the front desk. Good luck out there this afternoon, Miz Mayhew. Don’t let Councilman Sparks trip you up.”

  “Not a chance,” Maura Beth said.

  But even as Renette left the room, Maura Beth couldn’t help but wonder what the councilman had in store for her after the groundbreaking ceremony had become history. Might as well start psyching herself up for it now.

  The unexpected expanse of white canvas took Maura Beth by surprise as she drove up to the somewhat overgrown groundbreaking site and parked her little Prius within shouting distance of the willow-lined lake. The noonday sun bearing down made the temporary structure all the more dazzling to behold. The McShays, looking dressed for summertime in their prudent white outfits, were already underneath it, waving and coaxing her to join them in its blessed shade. As there was no hint of a breeze, Maura Beth was right beside them in an instant.

  “We knew you’d probably be the first one here,” Connie said, as the two women embraced a few seconds later. “You even beat the councilman and his ever-present underlings.”

  “How do you like our little surprise?” Douglas added, hugging Maura Beth in turn as he pointed to the top of the canopy. “It’s actually one of those deluxe football tailgating tents we rented just for the occasion. With football season just about a month away, they’re pretty easy to come by.”

  Maura Beth was all smiles as she scanned the width and breadth of it quickly. “A brilliant move, I have to say. I wasn’t looking forward to standing out in the sweltering heat while Councilman Sparks got in all of his photo ops. No telling how much shoveling he’ll end up doing until he gets it just right for posterity. I predict he’ll have “Chunky” Badham and “Gopher” Joe Martin snapping him from all different angles while the rest of us moan and groan.”

  “Well, we thought we’d do it up right in true Cherry Cola Book Club fashion,” Connie continued, obviously quite pleased with herself. “We’ve got a bowl of cherry cola punch and some finger foods over there on the table to make sure everyone keeps up their energy levels.”

  Maura Beth gave the two of them her most affectionate gaze. “First you donate the land for the library, and now you jazz this up for us like this. I, for one, am so thankful you decided to retire here in Cherico.”

  “Thanks, sweetie, we are, too. But where’s your Jeremy?” Connie asked, sounding somewhat distracted.

  “Oh, he’s on his way. He had a staff orientation meeting over at the high school this morning. Big doings since school begins next week. I can’t believe how early the kids start these days. When I was coming along, we always went back closer to the end of the month, and Mama and Daddy said it was always after Labor Day for them. Summer vacation seems to be getting shorter and shorter.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by two staccato honks of a car horn, and they all turned quickly to see Jeremy generating a thick trail of reddish dust as he barreled down upon the site. He brought his yellow Triumph Spitfire—which he had nicknamed “The Warbler” after having lovingly reworked its 1971 engine—to an impressive, if herky-jerky halt; then he emerged from the front seat with a perfunctory wave of his hand and immediately began giving everyone the latest Cherico High update before anyone could even get out a word.

  “Folks, I deliberately stepped in it just a tad bit today,” he told them, serving himself a cup of punch as he sounded off. “That’s a record for me. It took me a good couple of semesters to get on the headmaster’s nerves up at New Gallatin Academy. But what else is new?”

  Maura Beth’s look of concern was genuine. If she had learned anything about her fiancé in the time they had been an item, it was that his fuse was exceedingly short. More than once, he had gotten into trouble by not thinking things through before he spoke. “What did you do now, Jeremy?”

  He downed the entire cup in one great swig and then quickly ladled himself another. “Basically, the same thing I did up at New Gallatin with my nemesis, Mr. Yelverton. On one of our breaks this morning, I brought up the possibility of his approving literary field trips for my students. I said, ‘Mr. Hutchinson, Oxford’s just about an hour and a half from Cherico.’ Then I suggested a bus trip to see Rowan Oak and The Square and all the rest of William Faulkner’s haunts. I told him I thought it would really bring writing to life for my boys and girls.”

  From the beginning, Maura Beth had admired Jeremy’s tenacity so much because she knew she could not live without a generous dose of her own. So she really had no choice but to support him in all his endeavors, even if he wasn’t always tactful in his approach. “And what did he say to all that? Same as Yelverton?”

  “All in all, I’d say his reaction was nothing short of horrified. You would have thought I was asking permission to blow up that school bus,” Jeremy continued, trying to keep a hint of levity in his tone. “Hutchinson gets this panicked look on his face, clears his throat several times, and finally says with his lips all puckered up, ‘As you’ll soon find out, we’ve got us a real tight budget around here, Mr. McShay.’ ”

  Maura Beth could almost guess what had happened next. “Please don’t tell me you challenged him about spending money on the football team and its road trips like you did in Nashville.”

  “No, not yet. But I fully intend to at some point. So, anyway, he says something to the effect that we should just try to get through the orientation first. He sounded for all the world like a politician running for office.”

  “You mean like Councilman Sparks always does,” Douglas added with a conspiratorial tilt of his head.

  “Exactly.”

  Maura Beth moved in closer and slowly massaged Jeremy’s arm. She had discovered that he was more susceptible to her suggestions when she applied a gentle touch. “Maybe you should have waited until you got to know this man a little bit better before pushing all his buttons.”

  Jeremy finished off his second cup of punch and plucked a tuna fish sandwich from the artistic arrangement Connie had created on her big glass platter; but he did so rather clumsily, and the carefully balanced stack immediately tumbled into ruin. “Waiting to push his buttons is certainly one way to go. But I always like to know where I stand early in the game. I figure I plant the seed and then keep at it. In the long run, it’ll help me make my case and maybe get just what I want.”

  Maura Beth was secretly pleased by yet another confirmation of Jeremy’s considerable determination. A good, responsible husband should certainly possess that quality, among so many others. “Well, in that case, Mr. Hutchinson will never know what hit him when the time comes.”

  “Yep,” Jeremy said, swallowing a mouthful of his sandwich. “Let’s just continue the double-team. You keep tabs on Councilman Sparks, and I’ll ride herd on Mr. Hutchinson.”

  By noon the crowd had swollen to nearly fifty people—too many, in fact, to fit beneath the shade of the tailgating tent, even if they had all made short work of the McShays’ punch and sandwiches. Many of the citizens who had signed Maura Beth’s petitions to keep the existing library open had shown up—including James Hannigan and his flock of Cherico Market employees. Of course, the Crumpton sisters—for once underdressed because of the heat—and Nora Duddney had been afforded the luxury of standing on either side of Councilman Sparks. As expected, he was milking the occasion for all it was worth. Also granted
a respite from the midday sun was the project’s architect, Rogers Jernigan, who stood as tall and spindly as one of the metal poles supporting the canopy. Even in the shade, however, he seemed to be sweating profusely, and his skin was sticking to his white shirt. Meanwhile, most of those who were not office holders, benefactors, or in some way connected to the library like Maura Beth were slowly roasting in the outside oven.

  “My fellow Chericoans,” Councilman Sparks began, surveying the gathering with his trademark display of dazzling white teeth. “Today, we begin a new era for our wonderful little town. When I turn over this first shovelful of earth, construction on The Charles Durden Sparks, Crumpton, and Duddney Public Library will officially have begun.” He paused as pot-bellied fellow councilman Chunky Badham, huffing and puffing all the while, quickly maneuvered himself into prime camera-snapping position. Only after several frenetic “test” poses did Councilman Sparks actually plunge the shovel into the weedy ground, apply swift but significant pressure with his right foot, and deposit a little red clay mound beside the small hole he had created. He pointed to it dramatically, as if he had just struck gold. “Voilà!”

  He resumed his speech in earnest after the polite applause of the crowd had died down. “From this small beginning our new library will grow from the ground up. And I do want to thank each and every one of you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming out here today. I realize this is not the most comfortable place to be right now. But let’s look ahead, shall we? If we don’t have too much bad weather this fall and winter, we expect everyone to be enjoying this new facility about this time next year, don’t we, Miz Mayhew? Just under eleven months was the time frame quoted to us by the construction company, right?”

  Caught slightly off guard, Maura Beth still conjured up her best smile and raised her right hand with her fingers crossed. “I believe that’s the game plan. So everyone hold off on all those rain dances, if you would.”

  Councilman Sparks almost seemed to be conducting the burst of laughter that followed, as he raised both hands heavenward. Then he slowly brought them down to his side, apparently having invoked a generous helping of his godly powers. No tent revivalist could have done it better. “Yes, indeed. My vision of this project is very clear. Let me now share it with all of you. Imagine, if you will, being able to read your favorite novels with this glorious view of the lake at your disposal. Picture being able to walk out on the wraparound deck at sunset after you’ve done your research or read one of the many periodicals we’ll have on display for your convenience. Our architect standing right here beside me, Mr. Rogers Jernigan, has assured us that this facility will be state of the art down to the last detail, and he has worked closely with our Miz Mayhew, getting the valuable input of Cherico’s wonderful, degreed librarian. In addition, no expense will be spared in bringing these amazing blueprints of his to life. Our generous benefactors standing here beside us today have made all of this possible, doing more than their civic duty. Their contributions will be remembered for generations to come, as so many lives will be affected positively. . . .”

  It was at that point that Maura Beth found herself tuning out the endless litany of clichés. It had been her frequent observation that whenever Councilman Sparks belabored something to a fault, he was very likely preparing to pull a fast one. It still amazed her that way too many people in Cherico had not wised up to his political method acting. Or, maybe they had but were just plain addicted to it—even wholly mesmerized by it. Put succinctly, the man was truly golden—getting continually reelected without a serious challenge.

  Then, as everyone began dispersing when Councilman Sparks had finally wrapped up his performance, he took Maura Beth and Rogers Jernigan aside and spoke confidentially, putting his arms around their shoulders. “This little ceremony was all fine and dandy, but the three of us will need to put our heads together in my office this afternoon. I’m sure if we bear down hard enough, we can come up with some solutions to our problems. After all, we need to have the best interests of our fellow Chericoans at heart.”

  Maura Beth noted with a growing sense of trepidation that the politician and the architect were smiling, while she was not. But a walk to her car with Jeremy beside her was somewhat reassuring.

  “You hang in there, Maurie,” he told her, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. “Whatever this is about, just don’t let them rattle you.” His sweet little kiss sealed the deal. “And I’ll see you back at the apartment for the blow by blow.”

  As she slid into the front seat and turned the key with a lingering smile, she fully appreciated what it meant to be a couple. In short, she no longer had to face anything alone.

  3

  On the Cheap and Off the Rack

  At the moment, Maura Beth’s meeting with Councilman Sparks and Rogers Jernigan was immersed in annoying déjà vu. How many times over the years had she endured similar inquisitions in the plush offices of City Hall? True, Chunky Badham and Gopher Joe Martin were nowhere to be found, but that made the current ordeal even more uncomfortable to endure. If nothing else, those two good ole boys usually provided much-needed comic relief with their frequent malapropisms and non sequiturs. No such luck today, however.

  “There’s something you need to understand, Miz Mayhew,” Councilman Sparks was saying from behind his highly polished, massive desk. It had the effect of making him look and sound even more authoritative. “These blueprints of ours aren’t written in stone. Perhaps we’d better let our distinguished architect here explain our concerns to you. Will you do the honors, sir?”

  Councilman Sparks gestured toward Rogers Jernigan, who was seated across from him in one of the room’s great leather chairs. “I’ll be delighted, of course,” he said, turning toward the nearby Maura Beth with a forced smile on his face. But there was a nervousness about it that seemed to be oozing from his every pore.

  She winced the moment he spoke up. She had found working with him on a consulting basis to be pleasant enough, but it was the way he had continually deferred to Councilman Sparks that had never failed to get on her nerves. “Yes, Durden,” he would say while the three of them were discussing the needs of a twenty-first century library. “I understand your point here. I realize there is only so much money in the till. You can count on me to keep that in mind.” And on and on. She could not recall a single instance in which he had even come close to bucking City Hall’s directives.

  Summoning her best professional training, of course, she had endeavored to make Rogers understand things from a librarian’s point of view. Although she had the gut feeling he was not really on her side no matter what she said, he had generally acquiesced in these sessions—perhaps just to keep the peace. But now here they were going over all of it again, and she feared the worst.

  “You see, Miz Mayhew,” Rogers continued in a decidedly patronizing tone, “as any architect will tell you, there are junctures in the construction of any building. By that I mean, once you reach a certain point, you can’t undo things. Well, you can tear out walls and windows and such, but it will cost a ton of money and cause unacceptable delays. We certainly want to avoid that if we can. So, Durden and I would like to revisit a couple of items in the plans that we might want to change before we reach these junctures down the road in a few more months. For instance, there’s this teen room concept. We feel that—”

  Maura Beth straightened up and quickly interrupted, as her worst fears were confirmed. “What about the teen room? Are you proposing that we do away with it? I thought we’d resolved that issue once and for all. I can’t believe you’re bringing it up again.”

  Rogers cast a furtive glance toward Councilman Sparks, as if looking for validation. “You’ll remember that we had quite a discussion about it the first time around.”

  “That’s a polite way of describing it,” Maura Beth said, recalling how hard she had fought for it. Really, they had tried to work her to the bone, but somehow she had managed to stand up for herself and for her new
library.

  “The thing is,” Rogers continued, “if we close up that space when the time comes, we could save a lot of money. It wouldn’t be a problem to use that area for more shelving instead. That would even be a practical benefit to you. Besides which, don’t you think teenagers are old enough to come into the library and make their own decisions without being directed to a special room?”

  Maura Beth gathered herself, trying to slow down her quickening heartbeat. “Gentlemen, as I explained in some detail earlier, I’m trying to be proactive about the library’s future readers. If we can get the children and teens to view the library as a fun outing—maybe even the ‘in’ place to go, say, after school—we’ve won the battle against the smartphones and tablets and all these other devices that can keep them from discovering the joy of holding a book in your hand and reading.”

  Councilman Sparks stepped in with a triumphant look on his face. “You’re saying these kids can’t read on these devices? I think you’re on the wrong side of history if you believe you can stop them from buying and using all these gadgets. Besides, why should we be babysitters for these teenagers? Doesn’t this amount to glorified daycare? And do you know how much money we could save by not putting that enormous flat-screen TV in there? How is letting them watch TV encouraging them to read? If I know kids, they’ll be watching all those DVDs and not giving books a second thought. I think you’ll just be compounding the problem.”

  “But we’ll be buying educational DVDs about learning languages, travel, history, documentaries—that sort of thing.”

  “Do we really need this extra item in the budget? Won’t we just be sending them home to watch more TV?!”

  Maura Beth had never seen Councilman Sparks quite this prepared and adamant before. He was like a guard dog pulling at a postman’s trousers. But she knew only too well that it was all about the money that she and Nora Duddney had forced him behind the scenes to contribute toward the construction of the new library. Money that had never belonged to him or his family in the first place; that his father had stolen from the public funds intended to create Cherico’s first library over seventy-five years ago. Now, it was obvious to her that he was trying to cut corners to put some of that ill-gotten loot back into his account.