Twelve Angry Librarians

TEN

Stewart woke me twice during the night, and each time I came awake quickly. The second time I got up and took more aspirin, then went back to bed and fell promptly asleep. When I woke the third time, the bedside clock told me it was nearly seven. Diesel was gone from the room, and I suspected he was downstairs in the kitchen with Azalea.

I tested the back of my head. Sore, but not as painful as I expected. My shoulder had stiffened, but a hot shower ought to help that. My hands remained sore, and I needed to clean the cuts again and dab them with some antibiotic ointment.

In the shower, while I let the hot water hit my stiff shoulder, I thought about the attack. I had a gut feeling Gavin was responsible, but I had no way to prove it. Maybe he owed me that much, since I knocked him off his feet twice in twenty-five years.

I had talked to Helen Louise last night, the first time Stewart woke me. It was around ten o’clock then, and I knew she ought to be home and getting ready for bed. I didn’t keep her on the phone long because I knew how tired she was after a full day at the bistro. I also didn’t tell her about the incident with Gavin. I didn’t think anyone else would tell her about it before I had a chance to, and I didn’t want her lying awake, worrying, when she needed rest. I would tell her about it when we were face-to-face so that she could see that I was okay.

Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, and dressed for the conference, I went downstairs. To my surprise I found my son at the table, eating a hearty breakfast. Diesel greeted me first. Sean waved a fork in greeting. I could see he was busy chewing.

I greeted Azalea in the meantime, and she poured coffee for me while I took my accustomed place at the table. When Sean could speak properly, he said, “Morning, Dad. What’s this I hear about you getting in fights yesterday?”

I had a sip of coffee before I replied. “Is that why you’re here this morning, instead of at home with your wife? Did you come to lecture me?”

That sounded more hostile than I intended, but Sean paid no mind.

“Alex had to leave for Jackson early this morning for a trial, and I needed to talk to you.” He grinned. “And somehow I figured Azalea might have a few extra crumbs to feed me.”

Azalea set my plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grits on the table, along with a smaller plate of biscuits. She regarded Sean with an indulgent smile. “Always like to see a man eating a hearty meal, Mr. Sean. No trouble cracking a couple extra eggs for you and throwing a few more slices of bacon on the skillet.”

“And I thank you most heartily in return, Azalea. There’s nothing to compare with your breakfast anywhere.” Sean sighed. “Those biscuits are so light and fluffy it’s a wonder they’re not floating off the table.”

Azalea shook her head at his fanciful description, but I could tell she was pleased. Sean didn’t exaggerate by much. Azalea’s were the lightest biscuits I’d ever had, and I had eaten way too many to count in my fifty-plus years.

“Now, Dad, about these fights.” Sean fixed me with a stern gaze, and I suppressed a sigh. Sometimes he was a little too lawyer-y for me, especially first thing in the morning.

“Yes, son, what do you want to know? I’m ready for my cross-examination.” I forked some scrambled eggs into my mouth and bit off some bacon to go with them.

“First, how are you feeling this morning? Do you need to go to the doctor?”

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “Sore in places, and my hands hurt a bit, but nothing serious. Stewart took excellent care of me. I suppose I have him to thank for telling you about what happened last night.”

Sean nodded. “He told me about it right off this morning when I got here. He and Haskell were heading to the gym. Don’t get mad at him for telling me before you did, okay? He and Haskell were talking about it when they came out the door, and naturally I asked what had happened. He told me.”

“I wasn’t going to be angry with Stewart,” I said. “Would you like to hear my version?”

“Naturally.” Sean waved his fork at me again and then resumed eating.

In between mouthfuls of my breakfast and sips of coffee, I gave my son a quick rundown of yesterday’s events, from the afternoon encounter with Gavin Fong to the later attack by an unknown assailant.

“You’re pretty sure it was this guy Fong, even though you didn’t see the person who hit you?” Sean put his fork down, his plate now empty.

“I’m sure,” I said. “I can’t imagine anyone else who’d want to attack me like that. Can you?”

“Other than a few murderers that you’ve helped finger,” Sean said, “and they’re all accounted for, I can’t think of anyone else, besides possibly a friend or family member of one of them.”

“Even if I hadn’t seen Gavin outside Helen Louise’s place shortly before it happened, I’d still say he was the one.”

Sean nodded. “Reasonable, though it wouldn’t stand up in court.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m not going to be foolish enough to press charges. I have other things to worry about, like this meeting with Forrest Wyatt at eight thirty.”

“It’s ten after eight now, Dad,” Sean said. “You’d better get going.”

“I lost track of the time.” I pushed back from the table. “Azalea, I can’t take Diesel with me today. Will you mind staying with him until I come home around two or two thirty?”

“Mr. Cat and me’ll be just fine. You go on and do what you need to do,” Azalea said.

I noticed that Diesel had been keeping a close watch on Azalea while I ate. I had no doubt she was slipping him bits of bacon when I wasn’t looking. When I first brought him home she wouldn’t have anything to do with him, but over time he managed to win her over.

“Thank you,” I said. “If I’m held up for any reason, I’ll let you know.”

“I need to get to the office myself,” Sean said. “Can I drive you to campus?”

“Thanks, but I need my car. I have to get over to the Farrington House for the conference after the meeting.” I gave Diesel a couple of good-bye rubs and admonished him to be a good boy for Azalea. He gave me a couple sad meows in return because he realized he wasn’t coming with me.

During the short drive to campus, I allowed myself to think about the upcoming meeting. I had kept it resolutely at the back of my mind. The whole situation embarrassed me, and I didn’t look forward to having to stand in the president’s office and hear about the effect on the good name of the school, and how disappointed Forrest was, and so on. I was disappointed in myself, and I decided the best thing I could do would be to resign as interim and go back to being the part-time rare book cataloger and archivist if I was allowed.

I found a parking spot close to the administration building, and I presented myself to the president’s administrative assistant at eight twenty-seven. Moments later, I was shown into the small conference room nearby. I had expected to find the president and the college general counsel, because of course the lawyers would have to be involved. Instead, I found the members of the search committee for the library director job seated around the table.

Forrest rose from his seat at the head of the table. “Good morning, Charlie. I’m glad you could join us at such short notice. Please, take a seat.”

I nodded and found an empty spot near the other end of the table. This is going to be worse than I imagined, I thought. The whole committee is here, and I’ve got to explain myself to all of them. I suppressed a sigh, rested my hands in my lap, and waited for the unpleasantness to start.

Forrest remained standing at the head of the table. “Charlie, the rest of the committee and I met this morning without you. I know that’s unusual, but I’m sure you will understand why in a moment.”

I know why, I thought dismally. I wanted to climb under the table.

“Frankly, I think we are all disappointed in the caliber of the persons applying for the position of library director,” Forrest said.

I wanted to cringe even more when I heard the first few words of that sentence. I was so focused on them, in fact, that I hardly heard the rest of it.

“We’ve considered the matter carefully, and the committee—again, without you—has come to a decision. I know you have told me at least twice that you are not interested in the position permanently, but the committee and I are asking you to reconsider. We feel that the leadership you have shown—not to mention the letters of support we have received from library staff at all levels singing your praises—is what our library needs.

“We know that it is more usual in academic libraries for the director to have a PhD or at least a second master’s degree, but we think in your case neither of these is important. You have the administrative and leadership skills we value, and we sincerely hope you will consider taking on the task.”

I sat there, stunned. I probably looked like a goggle-eyed fish, but I was having trouble taking it all in.

I wasn’t here to address a complaint against me by Gavin Fong. Instead, they wanted me to be the director of the library.

“You don’t have to give us an answer right away,” Forrest said. “I know this perhaps comes as a surprise to you, but if you have any interest in the position permanently, we hope you will say yes.”

Now they all stared at me, waiting for a response.