Secrets in Summer(111)

It was always hard to see someone off on a plane. The passengers had to mill around in a small holding area like cattle, waiting for their release to the plane.

“I bought this paperback to read, but I’m not sure it will hold my interest,” Mimi murmured to Darcy, fishing around in her enormous bag for the book.

“Mimi,” Clive said, “you’ve got your e-reader with you. You can order another book or you can work a crossword puzzle on it.”

Mimi brightened. “Oh, yes, of course, what was I thinking?”

Darcy and Mimi had said their goodbyes and hugged each other several times, and still they were left to wait restlessly in a kind of limbo. Then suddenly the flight was called and the mob morphed into an orderly line, and the passengers went out through the gates, waving and calling goodbye, goodbye.

And Darcy was left standing alone. She gave herself a moment to recover from the sadness that had settled on her. Then she walked out the door and called Jordan and told her she was taking Jordan and Kiks out to lunch.

—

September was always an orphan month, not still summer, not yet fall. When Labor Day passed, people thronged to the ferries and planes, going back to school, back to work, back to reality. Many of the beautiful houses on Darcy’s street were empty, their windows dark. Landscaping crews came around to keep the grass cut, to water and prune and fertilize, and to empty the window boxes or fill them with orange gourds and purple mums, which were unsettling, still unseasonal.

At the library, Darcy and her colleagues did the professional version of cleaning up a house after a wild party. Books were reshelved properly, emails were caught up, and the staff had a chance to linger and reevaluate the summer and discuss plans for the fall.

On a rainy Tuesday morning, Beverly Maison came into the office carrying her umbrella and a floppy foul-weather hat.

“You’re here early,” Beverly said.

“It’s the perfect time to clean up this desk and go through all the papers I’ve been avoiding,” Darcy told her.

Beverly shut the office door. She took off her raincoat and hung it on the stand and leaned her umbrella in the corner. She smoothed her hair down and settled in at her desk. She swiveled her chair around so she could face Darcy.

“Let’s talk a moment,” Beverly said.

“Okay.” Darcy picked up her coffee cup and drank. The coffee was still nicely hot.

“You know I’m not so young anymore,” Beverly began.

Well, this was odd. “You seem young to me,” Darcy said.

Beverly laughed. “You’re a good friend, Darcy. And a good librarian. You did a sterling job keeping the children’s library on track this summer.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Beverly.”

“I had a meeting yesterday afternoon with Edith and Grace.”

Darcy swallowed and her thoughts flashed a red alert. Edith Simon was the director of the library, Beverly’s boss, and therefore Darcy’s superboss. Grace was the president of the board of trustees, and therefore everyone’s boss.

“We talked about the future,” Beverly continued. “I told them I’d like to retire in about three years—”

“Oh, no, Beverly!” Darcy’s cry was genuine. What would they all do without Beverly?

“And we all agreed that you should become head of the children’s library then.”

Darcy said, “Oh.”

“With a view in mind of eventually, in ten years or so, making you director of the library.”

Darcy couldn’t help it. She grinned like a child at Christmas.

“It’s not a done deal, of course,” Beverly continued. “We agreed that you’ll need sprucing up in several areas and responsibilities. We’d like you to take some courses in administration, fiscal management, and fundraising. Not all at once, of course. One or two a year, and done via the Internet. You would continue your duties here and have half a day off for course work.” Beverly smiled. “What do you think?”

“There are no words,” Darcy said. “It’s beyond my wildest dreams.”

“If I recall correctly, I don’t think it is,” Beverly said. “When I first met you, you told me your goal was to be director of the Boston Public Library.”

“That’s true,” Darcy said. “But, believe me, if I became director of the Nantucket Atheneum, I’d be over the moon. I never want to leave this island. Gosh, Beverly, this is amazing.”

“Well, it’s not carved in stone. But it’s our plan. Keep it to yourself, please. I’m not retiring for two or three years.”

“Can I hug you?” Darcy asked.

“No. Nothing has happened yet. Hug me in three years. For now, we’ve got work to do.” Beverly swiveled to face her computer.