Broken Resolutions (2 page)

No, his daughter was not his main concern right now. His mother was.

He parked his truck in the library parking lot and turned to her. They’d arrived a few minutes early for the event, trying to get there before the roads got too messy. It gave them just enough time to have one last discussion about her plans for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t want to cancel?” Jack asked Brenda. “The forecast is calling for near-blizzard conditions tonight.”

“As long as you’re driving, I don’t care about the weather,” she said. “It’s been ten years, Jack. I’m finding a man for New Year’s Eve. And then I’m making him justify his Viagra prescription.”

Oh, holy Christ
. Those were words he never wanted to hear her say again. Ever.

“Mom, it’s not that I don’t think you should be dating. You should. Dad’s been gone over a decade. But are you certain you want to . . .” His face contorted as he tried to get the next words out.

“Bump some uglies? Make like a camel and hump? See if I can inspire one of those four-hour erections, like in the commercials?”

“Yes. That,” he finally choked out.

“I’m certain,” she said. And Jack had to admit, she looked it. She sat in the truck with perfect poise. Her green eyes met his without difficulty, and her hands didn’t shake as they rested in her lap.

She knew, just as he did, that Dad wouldn’t begrudge her this idea. His father had adored his wild woman of a wife. Worshipped her from the top of her tousled blonde curls to the tips of her pink-painted toenails. The thought of his vibrant spouse spending the rest of her life alone would have pained him.

She’d already grieved for years. They both had. But his father was long gone, except in their memories and hearts. Which meant that Jack needed to support Brenda in her venture. To a point. She could be reckless. He didn’t want her getting hurt or making herself vulnerable to a creep. And did she even know about safe sex? God help him, he’d need to find that out.

“Mom, have you thought about the issue of . . .” He made himself finish the question. “. . . disease?”

She reached into her purse, and then held her hand high in the air. A lengthy strip of condoms unfolded, the end hitting the center console with a distinct tap. “Costco,” she said. “And I’ve already come up with a safe word. Peanut.”

“My childhood nickname?” he asked, horrified. “And why would you need a
safe word
, for Christ’s sake?”

“The library had this wonderful erotica display, dear. It gave me some ideas.” She frowned. “For some reason, they took it down after a week. I hadn’t even gotten to the ménage-a-trois books. But I talked to the librarian and put some of them on hold.”

The library. Again. He was beginning to hate the goddamn place. What had happened to the library of his youth, where you read the classics? Where inappropriate behavior resulted in a stern shushing by a woman with her hair scraped into a bun and bifocals on a chain around her neck? Where you wouldn’t read about threesomes and try to find a partner for New Year’s Eve sex?

Of course, he hadn’t been to the local library for a few years. Too great a chance that someone might recognize him. But it seemed his long absence from the small building was coming to an abrupt end.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll help you inside. I don’t want you to slip on the snow in those heels.” He took her arm as they crossed the parking lot, making sure she kept her balance. When they reached the front door of the library, he opened it for her. She swept inside with her head held high.

Lowering the hood of her red wool coat and brushing the snow from its shoulders, Brenda walked toward the desk labeled “Circulation.” The librarians’ chairs sat empty, but the workroom behind them contained a tall blonde laughing on the phone.

“Sounds messy,” the woman said, and then seemed to sense someone at the desk. She turned around, and her green eyes widened as they met his. An odd expression crossed her face, almost one of... recognition? Did she know him?

He turned away from her, making sure she didn’t get a good look at his face. This was it, the reason he hadn’t visited the Battlefield Library in years. Librarians knew too much. They read too many news and review articles about bestselling writers, articles that were often accompanied by author photos. Even if a writer made sure his books didn’t feature images of him on the book jackets, an observant person might still recognize him. If he happened to stop by her rural Maryland library, for instance.

No matter. Once he got his mom settled, he’d head back out the door before the librarian had the chance to see him too clearly.

“Mom, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked again. “I could drive you back home.”

Jack looked around. The library had clearly gone all out for this event. Vases filled with flowers sat on several tables, and comfortable chairs and sofas had been pulled into intimate seating arrangements. Platters filled with cheeses, dried fruit, and chocolates filled a large table near the stacks. A large sign urged patrons to reserve their tickets for “T
URNING
THE
P
AGE
: N
EW
Y
EAR
, N
EW
L
OVE
AT
Y
OUR
L
IBRARY
.” A stock photo on the sign showed a man and woman toasting each other with champagne glasses, party hats perched on their heads. A smaller poster also advertised the event, but with an image of two open books, one slid inside the other in a kind of weird way.

Wait. Was that one book...
mounting
the other? What the fuck?

“I reserved our spots and paid for our tickets,” his mom told him. “We made a commitment, and we’re going to honor it. Especially if that man is staying for the rest of the night.” She nodded toward the back of the library.

“What do you mean,
our
sp—” He stopped. “What man?”

Brenda tilted her head toward a distinguished-looked man with white hair and an athletic build. He stood near the new fiction rack, thumbing through a novel.

Looks respectable enough. Then again, so do most serial killers, right before they make you put the lotion in the bucket.
Shaking that image off, he remembered his original point. “What do you mean by
our
spot and
our
tickets?”

She wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Mom? What did you do?”

The blonde came out of the workroom. “Brenda! I’m so happy you two were able to make it tonight. We’ve had a few cancellations, but it should still be a nice crowd.” She turned to him. “And you must be Brenda’s son, Jack. I’m Angie, the branch manager. Happy to meet you.”

She held out her hand to him, and he shook it absently. He was still staring at his mother, who squirmed under his suspicious scrutiny.

Brenda broke. “I might have . . . possibly . . . signed both of us up for the event tonight.”

“
What?
”

“And we were so grateful,” Angie rushed to say. “I told your mom that we had too many women and not enough men. And she said you wouldn’t mind helping out.”

“Did she?” He narrowed his eyes at Brenda.

His mom drew him aside, whispering into his ear. “I knew you’d be lonely while Casey was at her mother’s house. And I was nervous, honey. I thought I’d feel better if you were here with me. Safer.”

She didn’t look nervous. He’d seen her anxiety before, and it usually didn’t manifest itself in bright eyes and an overly innocent smile.

He turned to Angie. “I’m sorry,” he lied. “I’m only here to drive Mom to and from this event.”

The librarian’s face fell. “But we specifically set up the evening for an equal number of men and women. If you cancel, there will be a woman left alone the entire night. By herself. On New Year’s Eve. Watching everyone else have fun. Thinking no one wants her.”

Each phrase fell like a blow to his conscience.
Fuck.

Brenda tugged on his arm, giving him a pleading look. “Please, Jack,” she said. “Do it for me. And for the poor, lonely woman who won’t have anyone to talk to if you cancel.”

He looked around the library, considering his options. God, he wanted to get back in his car and drive home. But if he stayed, he could keep a close eye on his mother. She was already edging toward the white-haired man, fluffing her hair with a few flicks of her wrist. And what were the chances that anyone would recognize him? Slim, really.

“All right,” he told the two women. “I’m in.”

Angie grinned at him. Brenda acknowledged his words with a wave of her hand, but said nothing. She was halfway across the library, making a beeline for the older man.

“What do you know about him?” he quietly asked the librarian.

“Carl? He’s a widower. Smart. Very polite. He comes in with his children and grandchildren sometimes.” Angie looked thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, he and your mother would make a great couple.”

Jack nodded his thanks, heading toward an armchair with a good view of the whole library. It appeared he had—he checked his watch—half an hour before the festivities began. In the meantime, he planned to keep a close eye on Brenda, while keeping himself inconspicuous.

Shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, it was an event at the library. How wild could it get?

2

“H
oly shit,” Penny whispered in the workroom, surveying Angie’s plans for the event. “How did you get the Board to approve these games?”

She’d arrived moments before through the employee entrance that led to the workroom. Stomping the snow from her flats—she’d refused to wear heels, no matter how much Angie wanted her to dress up—and removing her parka, she’d mentally prepared herself for the upcoming evening.
It’s a library event
, she’d told herself.
How wild can it get?

Apparently, when Angie was involved, pretty fucking wild.

“The Board may not have known
every
detail,” Angie admitted. “But everyone is over twenty-one, and they all signed waivers acknowledging that this was an adult-themed event.”

Penny looked at the first game. “They’re reading love scenes from different books? How did you choose the passages?”

“When I talked to each person signing up, I had them pick a favorite page or two. Most of them are pretty innocent.”

Penny looked at a book in the middle of the pile. “Like
An Erotic Treasury 2: Tales of Submission?
Is that one of the innocent books you’re referring to?”

“Actually, that’s mine.” Angie grabbed the book. “Reading material for the hospital.”

“I don’t know whether I feel relieved or even more horrified.”

“Feel turned on,” her friend said. “I know I will.”

“Okay, so reading love scenes comes first. Then speed dating.”

“Yeah. I printed out a list of questions for them to ask each other in the four minutes they have together. About their favorite books, where they like to read, and so on. Mostly library-related stuff.”

Penny glanced at the questions. “How is asking about the most unusual place they’ve ever made love library-related?” She wrinkled her nose. “Wait. If their answers
are
library-related, I really don’t want to know. I’m still scarred by that couple I saw on top of the stuffed giraffe in the kids’ section.”

“We should have burned that damn giraffe.”

“Agreed. And then we’re matching book covers to their titles?” Penny looked at another stack of books, this one with the titles covered by strategically cut pieces of paper. “Most of these books are from the erotica display you took down.”

“Not all.” Angie paused. “But most of them, yes.”

Penny read further down the event itinerary. “A scavenger hunt . . . posing together like book covers . . . champagne toast . . .” She sighed. “This sounds like it’s going to be a long evening. But at least the other activities don’t sound too objectionable.”

“Ummm . . . no. Not objectionable at all.” Angie grabbed her coat and headed for the door to the employee parking lot. “Everything is set up for each activity, and the itinerary should be pretty clear. Everyone who didn’t cancel has arrived, except for one woman. By the way, you might want to pay special attention to Brenda’s son. He seems . . .” She hesitated in the entrance. “. . . like he might need you.”

“Huh?” Penny asked, confused. “What does that mean?”

Her friend opened the door, calling over her shoulder, “You’ll see. And you might have to fill in for the missing woman. Bye!”

“What the—” Penny began, but the door slammed behind Angie.

She ran to the door and opened it. “What do you mean, I might have to fill in for the missing woman?” she yelled.

Angie had already started her engine, and merely gave her a jaunty wave before driving off through the snow.

Taking the itinerary in hand, Penny trudged out to the public section of the library. The “C
LOSED
” sign hung on the library door, and the lights were turned low. She had to admit, the building looked good with the flowers, the intimately arranged seats, and the trays of elegant snacks. Romantic. More alluring than she’d ever imagined the library could be.

About twenty people wandered through the main room, obviously waiting for the event to begin. Some were already chatting, like Brenda and Carl. Others sat nervously perched on chairs or lurked near the stacks, sneaking glances at the other participants. They all looked immaculately turned out, making Penny grateful for Angie’s directive to dress nicely. Her green sheath dress and sparkly earrings wouldn’t look out of place here.

Actually, that was a lie. Not
everyone
was immaculately dressed. There was one man sitting in a chair off by himself in the far corner of the room, half-hidden in shadows. From what she could see, he’d chosen to wear jeans and boots, as well as some kind of dark sweater. She searched her memory. Had she ever seen him before in the library? Squinting, she tried to take in more details, see his face more clearly.

Short, dark hair. Strong features. Stubble on his firm jaw. Medium height, although it was hard to tell for sure while he was seated. Athletic-looking. Strong but not bulky. He appeared to be about her age, in his mid-thirties.