Dangerous Curves Boxed Set 1: 3 Cozy Christian Mysteries Page 2

  She had a point there. “I don’t think wearing heels is a good idea,” I protested. “My feet will hurt, and what if I need to run around and solve problems? Like a fixer! I might have to go into fixer mode.”

  Molly was still laughing as I went head to head with Evangeline. Our blonde friend always stepped back and watched the show, never one to get involved in our squabbles. She had a gentle, fun-loving, kind spirit, which served her well as our children’s librarian. She was also very obviously a middle child, whereas Evangeline and I were both headstrong firstborns.

  “Fine. Wear the flats but take heels to change into during the dinner and speech portion of the evening,” Evangeline suggested, smoothing her jet-black hair over her shoulder. “Now who’s the fixer?” Her lips curled into a smug smirk.

  “Great idea!” I grabbed a pair of strappy silver kitten heels, stuffed them into my bag, and we were off. Now to pray for no hiccups. God came to my aid with my wardrobe dilemma, surely He could prevent any issues from cropping up tonight.

  I’d played so many scenarios through my head when it came to this event, but the bottom line was this: if we didn’t collect enough donations to offset the city’s budget cuts, my wardrobe would be the least of my problems. I had a feeling, among the entire library staff, the YA Librarian was the least valued position. After all, teens don’t even use the library anymore, right? That was what people thought, anyway.

  I couldn’t lose my job! I had bills to pay and two feline mouths to feed. And probably waaaaay too much pride. That was something I was working on, and I was sure I could get it under control without something so drastic as getting fired.

  Right, Lord?

  Two

  When we arrived at the library, I took a deep breath, offering up my final prayer for a successful evening. Okay, it probably wasn’t going to be my final one—let’s be realistic. I tried not to be one of those Christians who only prayed when I needed something, but, wow, I was probably really pushing it with the number I’d sent up just since this afternoon. I promise I’ll make it up to you, Father, I said silently as I walked up the steps in my comfy flats.

  Our boss, Susan Gooch, was standing just inside the building in the vestibule that led from the entrance to the lobby. She barely looked up at us as she arranged a balloon bouquet on a welcome table filled with nametags. Her short-cropped silver hair shone under the lights like a halo encircling her head.

  “Oh, you’re here,” she snapped when she finally acknowledged our presence. “I’ll let you finish this project.” Then she slipped into the building via one of the two heavy wooden doors before I could even get one word out of my mouth.

  “Wow, what crawled up her behind?” Evangeline rolled her eyes.

  My quick-on-the-draw shushing finger immediately flew to my lips, even though there was zero chance my friend’s snarky comment passed through the thick wood doors. The Director of the Library was brusque and analytical, and could come across cold at times, but she was efficient and ran a tight ship. She didn’t put up with any shenanigans from her staff—or from patrons, for that matter. It was good to know she was on my side whenever I had to deal with surly adolescent patrons, which did happen from time to time, even if I did consider myself a professional teen wrangler.

  As I was finishing arranging the nametags for guests in perfect alphabetical order, the doors swung open, and our Head of Reference, Tom French, strolled in with his wife on his arm, and right behind him was our Head of Circulation, Barbara Jensen, with her husband in tow.

  “Good evening! Welcome to the gala!” I practiced my smile for when I’d be greeting the real guests—rich people who would hopefully give us lots of money. I would probably get stuck in the role of official greeter, though if I were lucky, one of the Friends of the Library board members would recognize they needed a prettier, more gregarious personality for such an important task.

  “What’s up?” Tom asked, a rhetorical question I knew he didn’t want an actual answer to.

  “Hi, Sunshine,” his wife said, and I nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Do you need me to do anything?” Barbara asked as she stepped inside, her husband right on her heels.

  “Can you just sweep the first floor and make sure everything looks perfect?” I followed up my request with a sparkling smile.

  “Will do!” Barbara’s gray curls shook around her face as she nodded. She was about the same age as Susan and had an efficient nature too, but she was much warmer and more nurturing than our boss.

  Soon the vestibule was empty, and Molly and Evangeline peered through the glass of the two wooden doors, gazing longingly at the pending festivities. The magician was setting up and would soon be dazzling everyone with his act. They obviously didn’t want to sit out here with me and miss all the fun.

  “Go on,” I urged my friends, releasing them from their unofficial duty of keeping me company. “I’ll be okay out here on my own…and even if I get lonely, I’ll have that tiny cricket over there in the corner.” I pointed to the little guy, who immediately scurried away when everyone’s eyes shifted to him.

  “I’ll stay with you,” Molly said, a genuine smile accompanying her offer. “I don’t mind.”

  Evangeline shrugged. She was not known for being particularly sociable, but she seemed determined to get this party over with. “I’m going in.” She took a deep breath of resolve and swung open one of the double doors. The music from the DJ the committee had hired seeped through the crack in the door until it clicked shut next to its twin.

  Together, Molly and I tackled greeting duties, welcoming the mayor and his wife; Mr. and Mrs. James, the Chief of Bryce Beach Police’s parents; the biggest library supporter in town, Ms. Willa Bryce Monroe; most of the members of the Friends of the Library committee and their plus-ones; and several other townspeople. Most notable among the townspeople were Mr. and Mrs. Phillip Baker, AKA my mom and dad.

  My mother’s hip must have been acting up because she was walking with a bit of a lurch as my father practically dragged her up the library steps. They were quite a pair, my parents. Reformed hippies—who else would name their daughter Sunshine and their son River?—they were enjoying their retirement and supporting causes that were important to them, and sometimes those causes opposed each other, as my parents tended to have divergent views when it came to, well, everything. How they’d been married for forty-five years was nothing short of a miracle and, as far as I was concerned, definitive proof of God’s existence.

  “Well, if my daughter isn’t the prettiest girl in town tonight in her red dress!” my mother cooed as she straightened her slumped posture and took her first full look at me.

  “Mom, you haven’t even been inside yet.” I huffed out a sigh. She was always over-the-top positive. No wonder she chose to name me Sunshine—she probably thought I’d follow in her bright, shiny footsteps.

  “Hi, Mrs. Baker!” Molly gushed from beside me. She thought my parents were “the most adorable couple ever.” She’d clearly never heard one of their political debates.

  “Hey, Molly! You look pretty tonight too. Blue is your color,” my mom gushed.

  “You guys didn’t have to come, you know,” I said, meeting my dad’s eyes. “You already donate to a lot of causes, and you’re retired now, so—”

  “This is one cause we can actually agree on!” he joked, tipping an imaginary hat at my best friend, who giggled as he escorted my mother through the doors.

  “Those two are hashtag relationship goals,” Molly swooned, dramatically sweeping her hand across her blonde brow.

  “Oh, please. Unless you want to bicker about every single election, every environmental issue, every social issue, every economic issue—” I rolled my eyes. “Are you sensing a theme here?”

  “I still think they’re adorable,” Molly maintained. “And there’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”

  Neither Molly nor I were married, and I was surprised my mother didn’t make a comment about one
or both of us finding the elusive Man of Our Dreams at tonight’s event. Maybe she finally realized, like Molly and I had both accepted, the marriage ship had sailed long ago. It probably sailed right out of Bryce Cove and into the Atlantic, headed for bluer waters. That would be the nautical version of “greener pastures,” right? I thought so.

  Right after my parents headed inside, a flash of fuchsia bolted by.

  “Was that Jada?” I asked, my head whipping back toward Molly.

  “Hey!” Molly called after her, and the petite fuchsia-clad woman with a crown of amber-colored corkscrew curls froze in place before slowly turning to face us.

  “Hi,” she sighed. “I’m late, sorry. I was just trying to sneak in!”

  “At least let us grab your nametag for you first,” I implored, scanning the table for “Jada Booker.” If anyone was meant to work in a library, I was pretty sure it was our colleague Jada, who was fresh out of library school and our new Director of Technical Services. She’d worked in an academic periodicals department for several years before deciding to go for her master’s degree.

  “Thanks, guys.” She gave us a little wave before heading inside.

  “Hey, do you mind watching the table for a few while I see how things are going?” I asked Molly when the steady stream of incoming partygoers seemed to trickle down to nothing.

  “Sure, of course.” She smiled and nodded in agreement as she smoothed down her navy blue dress and patted her glossy blonde waves.

  I spent about half a second considering putting on the heels I’d stashed under the table, then I headed inside in my comfy flats, my eyes darting around the room as I took in all the decorations, the music, and the smell of excitement in the air. Everything looked perfect! I just wanted to let out a giant “Squeee!” and pat myself on the back for all my hard work paying off. Of course, there was still plenty of time for things to go sideways, but at least right now… I was going to bask in my victory for a moment.

  As I was basking, I picked up on a palpable energy circulating through the room. Everyone was dressed to the nines and wore smiles that sparkled brighter than the blingiest bling. The magician had just finished his first act and was putting away some of his props. Judging from the looks on everyone’s faces, they’d been impressed with his performance. I still didn’t get the draw, and I thought magicians were more for kids than adults, but I was glad it was a hit with the guests.

  “There you are, Sunshine!” came a voice from behind me, startling me out of basking mode.

  I whipped around to see two members of the Friends of the Library committee, Rosita Rodriquez and Heather Birch. They were both tall and model-thin. Rosita wore her long brown hair with golden blonde highlights in perfect ringlets, and Heather’s ash-blonde hair was swept up in a French twist with curtain bangs framing her heart-shaped face. They must have thought they were coming to the adult version of prom because they were both decked out in what could only be described as formal gowns. Rosita’s was pink with pearl and sequin spangles glittering in the dim light, and Heather’s hugged her body so tightly, one wrong move, and the structural integrity of those seams would be put to the ultimate test.

  “Hi there. Is everything okay?” I didn’t know why I automatically assumed there must be a problem if they were deigning to speak with me. It might have been some sort of holdover from high school when the uber-popular folks routinely avoided chubby band geeks such as myself. I might have been forty-two years old, but some days the ghosts of my youth were still very much alive and kicking.

  No wonder I’d chosen to become a librarian who works with young adults. I knew many of my patrons were just like me when I was coming of age. I loved books and the library then too. Books were my refuge. That was why my job and this event were both so important. So I plastered on a smile and waited to see if the Barbie twins needed anything from me.

  “The place looks great!” Heather schmoozed. She turned to say something to Rosita when another woman sidled up between them, wrapping her arms around both of their waists and bringing Barbie #1 and Barbie #2’s faces to rest on either side of hers.

  The Barbies squealed as the mayor’s wife planted light smooches on both of their cheeks—heaven forbid she muss their makeup, which was no doubt professionally applied. “What’s up, girls?”

  The mayor’s wife, Camille Steyer, was probably a decade older than Rosita and Heather, but she pretended they were three peas in a pod. She was dressed a little more conservatively in a floor-length purple maxi dress, a sparkling diamond choker around her slim, elegant neck. Her golden blonde mane fell around her bare shoulders, looking glossy and ironed perfectly straight for the occasion.

  “Hi, Sunshine,” she greeted me. I was surprised she remembered my name, even though I was the library liaison to the committee she was the chairwoman of—and my name was pretty hard to forget.

  “Hi, Camille. Everything seems to be going smoothly.” I glanced around, hoping not to find anything that would contradict my statement.

  “Yes, yes! I made sure the caterers are all on task. Dinner will be served in the activities room in fifteen minutes,” she said. “My husband has a wonderful speech planned! You’ll be giving him an introduction, won’t you?”

  My stomach leapt into my throat, apparently hoping to make a quick escape out my mouth. I swallowed down the sour saliva that was stirred up and settled my gaze on Camille Steyer. “I’ll be doing what, now?”

  Her heavily glossed lips pressed together as her sharp blue stare pierced into me. “The library liaison always introduces the speakers at the annual gala,” she said as though I were the dumbest person in the world for not knowing this obvious fact.

  My heart pounded into my ribcage like it was also trying to make a break for it. “I was under the impression it was the library director’s job?”

  I didn’t mean to make it sound like a question. I was trying to sound assertive and sure of myself, but I failed miserably, as evidenced by the smug grins that crept across all three of their faces. They were definitely enjoying the show. I was sure the color had drained from my face, and my limbs were visibly shaking at the prospect of forced public speaking.

  “No, it’s all you, sweetie,” Rosita assured me, giving me a patronizing pat on the arm.

  I had a few phobias, and glossophobia was number one on my list:

  5. Spiders

  4. Tight, confined spaces

  3. Getting into a serious accident while wearing old, holey underwear (thanks for that one, Mom!)

  2. Clowns

  1. Public speaking

  I’d been waiting for something to ruin an otherwise perfect evening. I guessed it was going to be this. How in the world was I going to pull this off with only fifteen minutes’ notice?

  Jesus, take the wheel!

  I had, in the past, been accused of having pluck, moxie, spunk or whatever euphemism was commonly used for women who speak their minds. Sucking in a deep breath, I girded my loins and reached deep within to muster up whatever measure of that quality was buried inside me because I was going to need it to get through this brush with death. I mean public speaking.

  While the other members of the gala planning committee were herding the cats, I mean guests, to the activities room on the second floor, I rushed up there to check the room set-up. I found my boss, Susan, hooking up the podium and turning on the projector.

  My heart leapt for joy. Maybe Susan would intervene! So, God, what do You say? Can we make that happen?

  “Hey, it’s going well so far, isn’t it?” My voice came out so chipper, it almost sounded like my parents gave me the right name after all.

  “Could definitely be worse,” she sort of agreed with me? “You need the microphone for this, or can you project your voice?” She held up the wireless mic and pinned her dark gaze on me.

  “Oh, right. Well, about that…” my voice trailed off as I scrambled for a good excuse to get out of this task. “Don’t you think the introductions would come bett
er from you? I mean, you’re the Library Director, after all. Who am I but an unimportant foot soldier? You’re Le Général!” I pretended to have a French accent. Badly.

  “I’m sure you can manage,” Susan said, crushing my dreams of keeping my heart from exploding tonight.

  Alright, I told myself. I can do this. What was that Bible verse? I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me? Oh, yeah, I totally had this.

  Then, as people began to filter into the room, I watched my parents’ faces light up when they saw I had the microphone and was standing behind the podium poised to speak. I had to make them proud.

  Molly shot me a look from the corner that said, “You go, girl!” and Evangeline leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest with a bored expression all over her face. That was as supportive as she got. At least she was here, right? As much as she hated crowds, it really was a genuine show of friendship.

  Then, out of nowhere, someone in a suit handed me an index card, and on it was written an introduction for the mayor. All I had to do was read it. I was saved! Yes! I can read. My whole job is based on reading!

  All eyes were on me as a hush fell over the room. I sucked in a deep breath and sent up one last prayer before addressing the crowd. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to support the Bryce Beach Public Library. I’m Sunshine Baker, the Young Adult Librarian here at BBPL. On behalf of our director, Ms. Susan Gooch, and the rest of the BBPL staff, welcome to our annual gala.”

  A thunderous applause rose up from the crowd, lifting me toward the ceiling on a giant invisible wave of energy. Molly was bouncing up and down cheering; my parents were beaming with pride, and Evangeline’s scowl had magically transformed into the tiniest of smirks. Even my boss looked moderately happy, and that was saying a lot for her.

  My strength and determination were renewed as I lifted the card to read the introduction. I didn’t get a chance to scan it before I felt everyone’s eyes drilling into me expectantly. I was forced to just go for it: “We’re thrilled to introduce the man of the hour, who will be sharing with you, in his own words, how much libraries have always meant to him and how they are a cornerstone of our democracy. And now, the Man, the Myth, the Legend: William R. ‘Bull’ Steyer!”