A tall, handsome man stepped into the office, drawing the air from the room and the breath from Lorraine’s lungs. His dusty-blond hair was slightly feathered, perfectly coifed above his sterling-blue eyes.

“Hello,” he said in a voice that was strong without being too loud—an authoritative flex to his tone as he extended his hand to Albert. “I’m Griffin Phoenix, visiting from New York.” He glanced back at the door. “The name on the door was Carmen Mendez?”

Carmen extended her hand and he took it. “I’m Carmen Mendez, chief librarian, this is Lorraine Devonshire, and this is Albert Jenkins, from the library commission.”

But Griffin’s attention was fixed on Lorraine. “Lorraine Devonshire, you’re the person I’ve come to see, actually.”

Her heart beat just a little faster as she met the gaze of this gorgeous man standing in front of her. She did her best to calm her nerves. “And how may I help you, Mr. Phoenix?”

“Griffin, please. I came because I’m in town with my son, taking a little skiing holiday, and I read your open letter in the newspaper.” Albert’s eyes shifted from Griffin to Lorraine and back as Griffin went on, “It was quite moving…inspirational, I’d say.”

“Oh, well, thank you, um, Griffin. You’re very kind to share that,” Lorraine said, blushing.

“I’m not being kind; it’s true. I didn’t know you’d be so lovely.” A tension filled the little office, but it wasn’t an awkward tension. Nothing about Griffin Phoenix seemed awkward, not in the least. His tall, athletic body was comfortably draped in slacks and a brown leather flight jacket.

Albert said, “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Phoenix.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Griffin said, pulling out a smartphone and pressing a few buttons on the screen. Lorraine and the others could only watch in perplexed silence as Griffin paused, then said into the phone, “Yeah, this is Griffin Phoenix, I’m calling from the…” He turned to Lorraine, “Which branch is this?”

“Hadley, on South Grove Street.”

“The Hadley branch of the Denver Public Library. You wanna go ahead and send somebody down here…? Yeah, and a photographer.… Something like Librarians Letter Saves Library. Yeah, and don’t keep me waiting, eh? I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Griffin swiped the screen and pocketed the phone. He pulled a check out of his wallet and handed the check to Albert. “I suppose this should go to you.”

Albert unfolded the check and read it, his mouth falling open. “Mister Phoenix, this is a million dollars.”

Griffin shrugged. “Not enough?”

“Well, um, no, I mean, yes, it’s very generous, of course, but, um…”

“Will it keep the branch open?”

“I’m sure it will, yes, but I feel that I should tell you, Mr. Phoenix, that even this is only going to be a-a temporary stay of execution, if you will.”

“That’s the reason for the newspaper. We’ll set an example, see if we can’t really stir up some publicity for this campaign.”

Lorraine repeated, “Campaign?”

“Of course,” Griffin said. “That’s the only way to get anything accomplished in this country. You need media, you need publicity. If you can win in the court of public opinion, everything else falls into place.”

Lorraine couldn’t disagree, and she didn’t want to contradict this man on that point or any point. She just didn’t know what to say.

Griffin turned to Carmen and Albert. “You should both be very proud of your Miss Devonshire here.” He asked Lorraine, “It is Miss?” She nodded with a coy smile she couldn’t disguise. “I imagine she wrote that letter at some professional risk.”

But Albert was quick to say, “Oh no, not at all! We stick by our staff around here, without question. Loyal to a fault, that’s our motto.”

Lorraine’s eyes found Albert’s lying face, but she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, Lorraine asked Griffin, “You said you were here on a skiing holiday with your son?”

“Ashe—he’s in periodicals with his nanny. Kid loves the Hollywood Reporter—gonna be an agent someday.”

Carmen seemed to know what Lorraine was getting at. “Spring break was two weeks ago,” Carmen said.

Griffin nodded. “We like to avoid the crowds.” Griffin read their expressions, then broke out in an amused little huff at their confusion. “Ashe is homeschooled. Sometimes his tutor travels with us, though in this case it’s just us and Mrs. B.”

“Homeschooled,” Albert repeated.

“Tutor,” Carmen repeated.

“Mrs. B?” Lorraine repeated.

“Marion Beemish looks after Ashe when I can’t. She’s like his second grandmother.”

Grandmother, Lorraine thought. Thank God! Wow…wait…what does it even matter? This guy could have and probably does have the most drop-dead gorgeous women throwing themselves at him all the time. I just work at the library—sweet, virginal librarian Lorraine, always doing the right thing. There’s no way he could be interested in me. Our lives are worlds apart. He’s got a son; I’m an only child; I’ve never even babysat before. Calm down, Lorraine; he’s just here to save the library. She felt her face flush.

Griffin led Lorraine and the others out of the little office to introduce his boy, but they were met by a sweaty, balding man in a red flannel. A second man carrying a camera took pictures of everything, avoiding the children sitting at the tables.

The sweaty man extended a business card. “Dorian Gale, the Denver Post, my photographer, Stu Jeffers. You called about a story?”

“Gave you the scoop, Dorian,” Griffin said. “You know that open letter you published, by librarian Lorraine Devonshire here?”

“Sure do, phone’s been ringing off the hook.”

“Get ready to tear it outta the wall. I’m donating one million dollars to this library to pay for its continued operation, due entirely to Miss Devonshire’s letter.”

“Really?”

Photographer Stu started clicking pictures of Lorraine, and of Albert and Carmen.

Griffin said, “I was so moved by her clarity and the grace of her sentiments, I couldn’t help but do whatever I could. And I call upon others like me—the one-percenters—to do the same. We’ve taken enough from the system; it’s time to give back. I know we all give to various charities and organizations that we believe in. And I want to remind the other Fortune Four Hundred and Ninety-nine to put the public library at the top of your give list. If our government won’t spare this sacred institution, it’s up to us to do it.”

“You live and work in New York?” Dorian asked Griffin. “What brought you here?”

“I came here on vacation, which I think I’ll be extending…indefinitely.” He glanced at Lorraine, a look of infinite possibility in his eyes. It was like he looked right through her soul. She blushed as she noticed the temperature increasing between her legs. A little shiver ran up her spine as she realized she’d never felt that aroused by any guy she’d ever met before. Let alone with one look. “I want to make sure the library gets back on its feet. And I like Denver, always have. It’s a city unparalleled in its natural beauty.”

After a few more questions, Griffin shooed the reporter and photographer away and led Lorraine, Albert, and Carmen to the periodicals section.

Ashe Griffin and Marion Beemish sat at one of the many long tables, racks of magazines nearby. “Ashe,” Griffin said and the boy obediently lowered his copy of the Hollywood Reporter. “Son, this is the woman who wrote that letter we liked so much—Lorraine Devonshire, and this is Carmen Mendez and Albert Jenkins—they also work for the library.”

“Hello,” Lorraine said.

“Nice to meet you,” Carmen offered.

Albert extended his hand and the young man shook his, a serious expression on his nine-year-old face.

Griffin went on, “Mister Jenkins, Ms. Mendez, this is my son’s nanny, Marion Beemish, who we fondly refer to as Mrs. B.”

Lorraine took in the old woman’s short, slight frame and cheerful smile, among other details—one of them a broach on her pressed, gray four-button jacket. “What a lovely broach,” Lorraine said. “Is that a ruby?”

“My birthstone,” she said, boasting.

Griffin said to Mrs. B., “I’m going to finish up with these people and we’ll be on our way. Excuse us?”

Ashe nodded, his own blond hair shorter than his father’s, a few strands hanging over his forehead.

“Of course sir,” Mrs. B. said, glancing at Lorraine and the others. “So nice to have met you.”

“The pleasure was ours,” Albert said, Lorraine and Carmen nodding.

Walking away, Griffin quietly explained, “My son doesn’t mean to be rude. Poor kid hasn’t said a word since his mother died.”

“How awful,” Lorraine couldn’t help but say.

“Yeah, he’s really taking it hard. Great kid though—really smart, big, big heart.” Griffin turned to gaze at the boy. He forced a smile. “Had a thought. We’re gonna stick around a little while, and we could use somebody to show us around town. Can you take a few days off?”

“Me? I…um…” Lorraine turned to Albert and Carmen. “Gee, it’s not for me to say, really…”

Albert and Carmen looked at each other, Albert once again stammering, his mouth flapping but producing no actual words.

Griffin said, “I think since Miss Devonshire here has saved the library, she’s deserved a little vacation.”

Albert said, “No, it’s…it’s fine, really. I’m sure we can muddle through a few days. Go ahead, take the week.”

“The whole week? Mister Jenkins, I can’t afford to take a whole week off!”

Griffin said to Albert, “Miss Devonshire and I may need to work out the details of our campaign, so it’s really library business…”

“Right, business,” Albert said, “of course, I… anything you say, Mr. Phoenix.”

“Excellent.” Griffin turned to Lorraine. “You don’t mind?”

“Why…no, not at all, Mr. Phoenix.”

“Griffin.”

Lorraine’s head dipped, demure. “Griffin.”

“Great.” After a moment of Lorraine’s silent amazement, Griffin said, “Get your coat.”