Adams Grove 03-Wedding Cake and Big Mistakes (6 page)

“Sounds like my girl.”

Chapter Five

At four o’clock, Carolanne juggled a stack of books in her arms and headed for the door. “I’m going to run down and pay for the ad at the
Gazette
and then drop these books back at the library. Need anything while I’m out?”

“Nope. I’m good.” Connor swung past her to open the door. “Here, I’ve got that. I’m right behind you, anyway.” He spun the
WELCOME
sign to the
BE RIGHT BACK
side and followed Carolanne out to the street.

“Coming in late and leaving early?”

“Summer hours.” He pulled the door tight. “And one of the many benefits of living and working in a small town.”

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to this. Hunting season, festival closings, and now summer hours?” She wondered what time he’d start his day when she wasn’t living there anymore.

Connor stepped out to the sidewalk. “You’re earning a decent living. You just need to find something besides work to spend your time on.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do anything but work. It’s always been my go-to thing.” Even the stack of novels hadn’t been able to
slow her down. She seemed to read them faster than the library could stock them.

“Maybe you can help Jill down at the artisan center.”

“That might be fun.” She laid the books down on the bench just outside the door. “I’ll lock up. You go on.”

“Good luck,” Connor said with a wave as he headed to the courthouse.

She worked the key into the archaic lock of Baxter and Buckhams. Connor had seen her struggle with it enough times that he’d offered to have the turn-of-the-century hardware switched out, but there was no way she’d let him replace it. A shiny new state-of-the-art lock just wouldn’t fit the essence of this place, and she loved this old building and everything about it. The smells from the diner and the bakery, the sounds from the train tracks, and even the fire station alarm—daily at noon no matter what and anytime there was an emergency.

With a shimmy of the key followed by an aggressive lift of the extra-tall wood-and-glass door like Connor had shown her, Carolanne twisted the lock and the mechanism dropped into place. Each time she locked that door, it was a personal victory.
Now that I’m moving, I figure out the method. Figures.
She kind of missed living here already, which was just silly since she hadn’t even moved the first box yet and she’d still be working here every day, but somehow that wasn’t reassuring.

Carolanne hitched her purse up on her shoulder and checked her reflection in the window glass. She ran her fingers through her auburn hair to tame the wisps back into submission.
Not that it’ll do much good in this humidity.
She dug into her purse to retrieve a tissue to brush away the handiwork of a spider that spanned the width of the door right across her name. The leggy spider scurried aside, disappearing into a crack in the mortar. She could end this daily battle with the critter with one quick thumb, but she figured that spider had seniority. Besides, he might have
a big brother upstairs, and that was somewhere she didn’t want spiders.

She traced the tissue over the letters of her last name.

Baxter and Buckham
Attorneys at Law

Simple. The script she’d chosen for the Baxter and Buckham lettering was much more elegant than the stick-on white block lettering Connor had there before they’d decided to partner last year. The gold letters were like the perfect necklace that completes an outfit. A nice improvement, not unlike the upgrade in the lobby furnishings she’d sprung for. She ran her fingers across the hand-painted gold letters worthy of the career she’d built.

Carolanne walked to the corner, crossed Main Street, and entered the
County Gazette
office.

The aluminum blind slapped against the glass of the door as Carolanne walked inside.

A young woman dressed in all black with hair to match stood talking to Jack.

He lifted his chin, acknowledging Carolanne, but continued talking to the young lady. “We don’t keep any of the archives here at the paper. The library has all of that. Good timing, though. Wasn’t too long ago you’d have had to swirl through heaps of microfiche, but we got a grant and now everything is electronic. That ought to make things much easier for you.”

“Thank you so much. How do I get to the library from here?” she asked.

Carolanne took a step toward them. “I’m getting ready to go to the library to return these books. You can walk down with me. It’s not far.”

“That’d be perfect,” Jack said. “This is Carolanne. She’ll show you the way.”

The black-haired girl thanked Jack and stepped toward the door.

Carolanne handed Jack an envelope. “I just wanted to drop off the payment for our last ad, and Jill asked me to drop off this invitation to the grand opening.”

“The whole town is buzzing about it.”

“Sure hope so. Jill says thanks for the front-page article. The artisan center’s been her dream as long as I’ve known her.”

“And that’s been forever.” He turned to the young lady. “Carolanne grew up in this town. She might be able to help you with your research, too.”

“Happy to help if I can,” Carolanne said. “You ready to head to the library?”

“Yes. That would be great. Thanks for your help, sir.”

“Jack. You can call me, Jack. Everyone does.”

“Thanks, Jack.” She turned to Carolanne. “I’m Gina.”

“Let’s go, Gina.” Carolanne held the door and gave Jack a little shrug. She didn’t look like the type of girl who would land in Adams Grove. Aside from the flashy shoulder bag that she clung to like a life-support system, there wasn’t any color on her except a bright band of blue from a tattoo on her wrist.

Carolanne and Gina walked in silence up the first block.

“What brings you to Adams Grove?”

Gina ran a hand through her hair. “I live in Florida, but my mother grew up here.” The sleeves of her black jacket lifted, exposing her eerily white skin and the bright-blue band of tiny butterflies around her wrist.

For a Florida girl, she sure is pale. Maybe the gothic look was intentional, but the playful butterflies sure don’t seem to fit in with that.
“Well, everyone knows everyone around here, so you shouldn’t have any problem finding what you’re looking for. Where are you staying while you’re in town?”

Gina’s arm twitched, and she shrugged before answering. “I’m crashing at someone’s house for a few days, you know, until I figure out how long I’ll be here. I’m planning to head up to New York to look up my father, too. We’ve never met.”

“So, you never lived here?”

She shook her head. “We lived down in Jacksonville my whole life.” Gina chewed on her bottom lip. “My mom died. I just want to know some things about her childhood, get some answers.”

Carolanne felt the familiar emptiness in her gut. “My mom died when I was little, too. It’s something you never get over. I
still
miss her.”

Gina’s voice cracked. “It wasn’t that long ago. She…It was suicide.”

“I’m so sorry.” Carolanne’s heart tugged at the sadness in the demeanor of the young woman who walked beside her. “When you’re ready, if there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know. My office is on Main Street.” Carolanne pulled a card out of her wallet and tucked it into Gina’s pocket. “Really. Don’t lose that.”

“Thank you.” Gina shook her head and swept a tear away. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. It’s my fault.” Carolanne’s heart broke a little at having caused the girl that emotional tug of war. “I always ask a million questions. Occupational hazard. I’m a lawyer, and I’ve been exactly where you are. Don’t say another word. I get it.”

Carolanne watched the girl make a visible effort to swallow and pull herself together. She thought about how her mother’s death had completely broken her dad. Had Mom known that she’d die at such a young age, would she still have married Dad? Probably not if she’d known it would devastate him. “Do you worry your life will follow your mother’s?”

“It’s possible, don’t you think?”

“I guess I hadn’t ever really considered it.” The landscape seemed to quake beneath Carolanne’s shoes. If her life followed the path of her mother’s, could she be nearing the end of her days? She still had things she wanted to do.
Mom wasn’t much older than I am now when she died.
The lump in her throat suddenly felt like a lump in her breast—still her worst fear even now, after a clear mammogram.

Carolanne glanced over at the girl walking next to her. She looked younger. The bottom of her faded black jeans were frayed and dirty, as if she’d walked off the parts that were too long rather than getting them hemmed. She was thin—too thin, really—and that made her eyes look too big for her face. And those eyes, they looked sad.

“Do you need help? I mean, you said your mom, and well…”

“Oh. No, not like that. I’m mentally fine—just confused.” She looked directly at Carolanne. “I just need to understand why she did it, understand her more. I’m not suicidal. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Carolanne breathed a sigh of relief. From her own past, she knew too well that the answers weren’t always as easy to understand as they were to find.

They walked down the sloping sidewalk over to Peach Street in silence.

Out of habit, Carolanne paused and looked both ways before crossing the street, although the quiet was evidence that there was nary a car on it. The bookmobile was parked next to the library, restocking before heading to the outskirts of the county. The library building was well over a hundred years old. A wide handicap ramp had replaced the original stairs, but the front door was still original to the turn of the century and was so heavy Carolanne had to push her whole weight against it to get it open. Inside, the fourteen-foot ceilings still held the beauty of the original moldings.

Carolanne motioned Gina inside in front of her. The floor creaked beneath their feet, and they picked up speed as the floor slanted toward the back. Carolanne couldn’t help but picture someone in a wheelchair sailing through the long space and straight out the back door, maybe grabbing a random book as they zoomed past the tightly filled shelves.

It was those things that made this library so charming to Carolanne, but she saw the look of doubt on Gina’s face. “Don’t let the size of this library fool you. I spent many an hour in this place growing up. They’ve got access to everything you could possibly want.”

Carolanne placed her books on the counter. Mrs. Huckaby’s head was just barely visible over the long row of short shelves across the room. “Good morning,” Carolanne said loudly.

Like a meerkat, Mrs. Huckaby popped up and surveyed the space until her line of sight set on Carolanne and Gina. “Hello. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No problem. I’m not in a hurry. I’m just going to look around for a few minutes. Did the book you ordered for me come in?”

“It sure did. Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll be right there.”

“I have someone here with me. She’s looking for the newspaper archives. I told her this was the place to come.”

Mrs. Huckaby whipped around the aisle and was standing next to them before Carolanne could even finish her thought.

“This is Gina,” Carolanne said.

“You can call me Doris. Everybody does.” She stuck out her hand. “How can I help you? Research? I’ve got the best tools in three counties.” Doris was tugging Gina toward the computer terminals. “I tell you what, those federal grants are amazing once you know how to get them. I can set you up right over here. We’ll have you knee-deep in information before your butt warms up the chair.”

Carolanne watched the smile spread across Gina’s face. “I think you’re in good hands.”

“Apparently.” Gina waved, sank down into the wooden chair behind the monitor, and followed Mrs. Huckaby’ s directions.

Carolanne headed for the shelf where Mrs. Huckaby stored all the new inventory and loaners from other branches. She scanned the shelves, tugging one novel out after another to read the back copy, but her attention kept drifting back to the conversation between Gina and Doris.