“Same here.” Clay dropped his hand.
“I’m glad you came by,” Rorie told him quietly. “It was…nice seeing you.” The words sounded inane, meaningless.
He nodded brusquely, opened the door and walked into the hallway.
“Clay,” she said, following him out, her heart hammering so loudly it seemed to echo off the walls.
He stopped and slowly turned around.
Now that she had his attention, Rorie didn’t know what to say. “Listen, I’m sorry about the way Dan was acting.”
He shook off her apology. “Don’t worry about it.”
Her fingers tightened on the doorknob, and she wondered if this was really the end. “Will I see you again?” she asked despite herself.
“I don’t think so,” he answered hoarsely. He looked past her as though he could see through the apartment door and into her living room where Dan was waiting. “Do you honestly love this guy?”
“He’s…he’s been a good friend.”
Clay took two steps toward her, then stopped. As if it was against his better judgment, he raised his hand and lightly drew his finger down the side of her face. Rorie closed her eyes at the wealth of sensation the simple action provoked.
“Be happy, Rorie. That’s all I want for you.”
The rain hit during the last week of September, and the dreary dark afternoons suited Rorie’s mood. Normally autumn was a productive time for her, but she remained tormented with what she felt sure was a terminal case of writer’s block. She sat at her desk, her computer humming merrily as she read over the accumulation of an entire weekend’s work.
One measly sentence.
There’d been a time when she could write four or five pages a night after coming home from the library. Perhaps the problem was the story she’d chosen. She wanted to write about a filly named Nightsong, but every time she started, her memories of the real Nightsong invaded her thoughts, crippling her imagination.
Here it was Monday night and she sat staring at the screen, convinced nothing she wrote had any merit. The only reason she kept trying was that Dan had pressured her into it. He seemed to believe her world would right itself once Rorie was back to creating her warm, lighthearted children’s stories.
The phone rang and, grateful for a reprieve, Rorie hurried into the kitchen to answer it.
“Is this Miss Rorie Campbell of San Francisco, California?”
“Yes, it is.” Her heart tripped with anxiety. In a matter of two seconds, every horrible scenario of what could have happened to her parents or her brother darted through Rorie’s mind.
“This is Devin Logan calling.”
He paused, as though expecting her to recognize the name. Rorie didn’t. “Yes?”
“Devin Logan,” he repeated, “from the Nightingale, Oregon, Town Council.” He paused. “I believe you’re acquainted with my daughter, Kate.”
“Yes, I remember Kate.” If her heart continued at this pace Rorie thought she’d keel over in a dead faint. Just as her pulse had started to slow, it shot up again. “Has anything happened?”
“The Council meeting adjourned about ten minutes ago. Are you referring to that?”
“No…no, I mean has anything happened to Kate?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Do you know something I don’t?”
“I don’t think so.” This entire conversation was driving her crazy.
Devin Logan cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice dropped to a deeper pitch. “I’m phoning in an official capacity,” he said. “We voted at the Town Council meeting tonight to employ a full-time librarian.”
He paused again, and, not knowing what else to say, Rorie murmured, “Congratulations. Kate mentioned that the library was currently being run by part-time volunteers.”
“It was decided to offer you the position.”
Rorie nearly dropped the receiver. “I beg your pardon?”
“My daughter managed to convince the Council that we need a full-time librarian for our new building. She also persuaded us that you’re the woman for the job.”
“But…” Hardly able to take in what she was hearing, Rorie slumped against the kitchen wall, glad of its support. Logan’s next remark was even more surprising.
“We’ll match whatever the San Francisco library is paying you and throw in a house in town—rent-free.”
“I…” Rorie’s mind was buzzing. Kate obviously thought she was doing her a favor, when in fact being so close to Clay would be utter torment.