I assured Teresa I would be there in a few minutes. “We’ll figure something out.” I tried to sound confident, but unless Mrs. Marter was reasonable about the amount, we would have to cancel.

TEN

Diesel chirped away in the backseat during our second trip of the day to the public library. My daughter, Laura, laughingly claimed he was conversing with us when he did that, because sometimes he was quite voluble. He would occasionally pause, cock his head to the side, and gaze up at the recipient of his confidences as if he expected a response. There were even times when I figured I knew what he was attempting to tell me, but now wasn’t one of those times. I let him chatter on until I parked the car at the library.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go in and see your buddies again.”

Diesel hopped over the seat and climbed out as I held the door open for him. Finally quiet, he padded beside me as we entered the library.

Bronwyn looked up from the reference desk as we neared. After greeting us in turn—Diesel first, as usual—she said, “Teresa is in her office. She’s really upset. Do you think she’ll cancel the whole exhibit?” Diesel disappeared behind the desk, and I knew he went to rub against Bronwyn. That would make her feel better.

Bronwyn had put in many hours preparing for the exhibit. She had a flair for art and had created the posters, besides the work she had done getting our exhibit cases cleaned and ready. “We’ll do our best to resolve things with Mrs. Cartwright and her family.” I spoke with more confidence than I felt, but I wanted to erase the worried look from Bronwyn’s face. She nodded and attempted a smile.

I heard Diesel warble at her, and with her attention diverted to the cat, I headed to Teresa’s office.

When I walked in, I found her seated at her desk, glaring at her computer screen. “There’s no way. Absolutely no way.”

“Looking at the budget, I presume.” I sat in one of the chairs across from her.

Teresa nodded wearily as she turned to face me. “The money just isn’t there. Even if they were asking only a few hundred dollars.”

“How much do they want?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the figure.

“Seventy-five hundred.” Teresa still sounded shaken as she spoke the words.

“Good heavens.” Far worse than I’d imagined. “How do they think a small public library could come up with money like that?”

“You tell me.” She closed her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingertips. “I knew that big-name writers often get paid for doing talks at libraries, but I’ve heard they will sometimes waive their fees in special cases. This is as about as special a case as I can imagine.”