The Chocolate Book Bandit Read Free

vigorous handshake and sat down next to Dr. Cornwall.
    Hard on her heels, Carol Turley stomped in with her usual awkward gait. She carried a fancy red leather folder, a sort of miniature briefcase.
    Gwen spoke to her. “Oh, hi, Carol. Is that the case you were telling me about?”
    “Yes,” she said, and smiled a rather nervous smile. But she blinked her eyes so rapidly I thought she was trying not to cry. “Yes, Brian gave it to me last week. For my birthday.”
    “That was a sweet thing to do,” Gwen said.
    Carol blinked harder. “Yes, my husband really is a sweetie.”
    Maybe so, I thought, but he’s not real romantic. I mean, a leather folder isn’t a diamond ring or even a dozen roses. But I guess it was something Carol would use all the time.
    Carol dropped the folder on the table, and it made quite a thud. Dr. Cornwall jumped and opened his eyes. Luckily, his chair did not go over.
    Carol was the kind of person who is never noticed in a crowd. She was about my age and short, with dull blond hair. But I couldn’t call Carol plain; her big brown eyes were too expressive. She shut them tightly, then popped them open. After taking a deep breath, she spoke to me. Her voice had its usual whine. “I see you’ve decided to join us.”
    “Actually, this is an exploratory visit,” I said.
    “Well, there’s nothing to it,” Carol said. She twisted her hands together nervously. “Between the library director and the city engineer we have strong guidance. There’s never any question of how to vote.”
    “But you’re getting a new library director,” I said. “He may expect more participation from the board.”
    “Why?” Now Carol’s voice was not only loud, but also incredulous. “We just stand back and stay out of the way. Unless he pulls some dumb stunt.”
    “And I’ll try not to do that.”
    A bass voice sounded from the doorway, and we all turned to look at a person who was designed by nature to be called Butch. He was tall—maybe six-three—and rough-hewn, with a large, blocky build, and a friendly grin. But the most eye-catching thing about him was a gorgeous streak of gray at each temple. He looked like an ad for men’s hair color. If I owned such a company I would have made him our official spokesman on the spot.
    “I’m sure you’ve all figured out that I’m Butch Cassidy,” he said. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me who you are.”
    He walked around the table and shook hands with each of us.
    I was the final person he greeted, so I had a minute to take him in.
    Sexy. He was sexy. My innards noticed that right away.
    By the time he reached my side of the table, “sexy” was definitely the word I’d picked to describe him. It wasn’t that he was particularly handsome; Joe was a lot better-looking. Butch just seemed to broadcast sex appeal.
    All the women seemed to grow more feminine as he spoke to them. The prim Rhonda Ringer-Riley almost simpered. Gwen looked more Earth Motherish. Carol Turley even managed not to say anything else rude. “I’m Carol Turley,” she said. “I’m secretary-treasurer.” Then she sat down abruptly, almost missing her chair.
    But the stupid comment was left for me. I extended my hand to the new director and said, “I’m Lee McKinney. I mean, Woodwind. I mean, Woodyard. Lee Woodyard. And I’m not a member of the body. Board.”
    I quit then. I had completely messed up, and I had the sense to know things might get even worse. I’m famous for my twisted tongue, but I’d outdone myself.
    Rhonda looked pained, and Carol Turley giggled. “Well, who are you, Lee?” She giggled again.
    Butch—I was already thinking of him by that name—ignored Carol. “Guests are always welcome,” he said. He sat down next to Rhonda. “We seem to have a quorum, Mrs. Ringer-Riley. Shall we start?”
    Rhonda looked surprised. “Oh. But Miss Vanderklomp isn’t here yet.”
    Butch consulted a paper. “Vanderklomp? Is she a member of the