“Oh, hey, Trent. No, I was just trying to think of words to describe the wind and . . . actually, I guess I kind of was being a thesaurus.” I laughed and took out my key to unlock the door. “What are you doing here on a Saturday morning?”

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you. In private. Do you have a few minutes?”

Having your boss’s boss ask for a secret meeting was not a good way to start the morning. “Sure.” I opened the door, let us both in, and locked it behind us, because the library technically didn’t open for another hour. “Coffee?”

He nodded, and we made our amiable way to the kitchen. Even on a Saturday morning, and even in jeans and a plain zip fleece sweatshirt, Trent looked polished and professional. He looked exactly like what he was, a retired professional out to do good and give back to the community, even if Chilson wasn’t the community where he’d spent most of his adult life.

Trent was a downstater, and an attorney to boot, but I was learning to overlook all that. He was a decent guy and I needed to get over my knee-jerk reaction of thinking that extremely good-looking men, especially ones above a certain age, were condescending jerks who couldn’t accept a good idea unless it came from them. Or someone who looked a lot like them.

I pulled out a filter and started measuring out coffee. “Cream is in the fridge,” I said over my shoulder. “Mugs are over there and sugar is on the counter.”

After a short second, the refrigerator door opened, and I felt an odd sense of satisfaction. While it was possible he’d assumed I would fix his coffee for him, he’d also quickly adapted to the very clear circumstance that I wasn’t about to. Yes, Trent was a decent human being, and if I ever got the opportunity, I’d thank both his mother and his wife.

We watched the coffee drip down in a stream that always seemed too slow, and eventually we were rewarded with a full pot. Trent took the handle, filled my mug, and then his own.

“Cheers,” he said, toasting me, and we both breathed in the magical, life-giving scent and gave identical mmms of pleasure.

My eyebrows went up. “Didn’t know you were a coffee freak.”

“Only since law school.” He smiled, and what had up until then been purely a professional relationship between board president and hired hand became something a little bit more.

“So you said you wanted to talk to me?” I asked, leading the way to my office. He settled in the guest chair and I sat in my desk chair. “Is something wrong?” But I couldn’t imagine what. Chain of command dictated that he talk to Graydon first, and Graydon would talk to me.