Scarlett stomped out of the library, her brain a frantic whir. It felt as if she was spinning off the chariot all over again, only this time, the pain proved much worse.
She jammed her keys at the ignition, missed, and had to try again. When she missed a second time, she collapsed onto the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry big, mournful tears.
Far more than her job had been lost that day.
She couldn’t live with Lauren and Shane forever, even if they agreed to take her in long-term as she expected they might. Married couples needed their space, and as a grown woman herself, Scarlett needed some semblance of independence. If she couldn’t find library work in Anchorage, she’d either need to leave the state or leave the industry—both of which terrified her.
And this could be just the first of many libraries under fire. Would budget cuts continue to threaten these beacons of knowledge until the last one crumbled? She hated the thought that the world Ray Bradbury painted in Farenheit 451 might actually become a reality one day. If the government decided books weren’t important, what would they try to dismiss next? And what about all the children who would miss out on a lifelong love affair with reading?
No, she would stay and fight this. She would be an advocate—not just for herself, but for libraries everywhere. This newfound resolve comforted her enough for now. At least she knew what she was up against. At least she knew she’d been fired.
She dabbed at her eyes with a long sleeve and fastened her seat belt, ready for the long drive back to Puffin Ridge. She’d be alone with her thoughts, and that was when her best ideas came.
As she reached for the gearshift, her phone buzzed in the cup holder, its sound magnified as the metal and glass vibrated against the plastic.
A text message.
From Henry.
Could he have known about this? Had he met secretly with Vanessa Price as he had done with Scarlett? Did he agree to be the face of her ridiculous tourism campaign? Did he know what he was helping to destroy?
She put the car back into park and unlocked her phone to see his message.
Thinking of you. Hope you’re having a good day :)
Scarlett considered ignoring his message as she drove home, but knew it would eat at her if she did. So she decided to take this opportunity to fish for a bit of information instead. At least then some of her many questions would be answered.
I met Vanessa Price today, she typed and hit send.
Yeah? About time she included you in the campaign. Your pretty face will bring in lots of visitors.
She held her breath, hoping that her instincts were wrong, that Henry would have seen this plan for what it is, that he would have said no. The campaign?
You know, the Anchorage is Cool travel ads.
Scarlett groaned at the stupid name as well as the fact that Henry was obviously involved on the ground floor. Oh, yes. And you think they’re a good idea? The ads?
Absolutely! Tourism is good for the economy. It makes sense they’d want to bring more to the city.
Scarlett’s tears returned in earnest. Henry was so sure that he wasn’t anything like his grandfather, yet here he was making decisions based on profit rather than heart. But what about the budget cuts that had to be made to support the campaign’s expense?
Not a big deal. Once more money comes in from the travelers, I’m sure there will be more than enough of the budget to go around.
And in the mean time?
She hated what he typed next. Well, you can’t have progress without sacrifice. Wouldn’t you agree?
The tears fell so fast they blurred the phone as she wrote, No, I don’t agree! I lost my job! The library is in danger of being expensed out of existence! And you know about it!
Scarlett, let me call you.
The phone rang in her hand a few short moments later, but she rejected the call. She had her answers and didn’t want to hear anything more until she could come up with a solution.
He tried calling again. This time, she let it ring out until the switch to voicemail.
Scarlett, please, Henry typed and called a third time.
She turned her phone off, cranked up the radio as loud as it would go with the hope that it would drown out her thoughts, and began the drive home to Puffin Ridge.
Everyone said Henry Mitchell, III was no good, but she’d thought she knew better. She thought she saw something more in him. Turned out he was just another no-good businessman.
And this whole “I’m really a good guy act?”
Either he was lying to her… or to himself.