Tumbleweed Weddings Read Free Page B

Kincaid dashed out the front door.
    Callie trudged to the desk. Who was she kidding? Lane would never be attracted to her with her ugly glasses. She would probably end up like Miss Penwell, working in the library her whole life as an unmarried librarian. Even if she saved up the resources to begin her dream bookstore, she would do it single-handedly—and single.
    But Lane had never answered Murray’s question about what he was doing here. Was it to sell insurance? If so, wouldn’t he be handing his business card to every patron in the library? On the other hand, the citizens of Fort Lob didn’t need an insurance man in town. Everyone got their insurance over the phone through agents in Casper or Cheyenne.
    So why did Lane Hutchins move here?

Chapter 3
    A t exactly two o’ clock, Callie heard the regimented tap of sensible shoes striding toward her.
I could set my watch by her arrival
.
    Miss Lucille Penwell marched into the library.
    Callie moved to let the head librarian take her place behind the counter. “Good afternoon, Miss Penwell.”
    The older woman pursed her lips, causing the skin above them to pucker into ripples. Her thin face and high cheekbones made her look like a skeleton, and the short-cropped gray hair did not soften her angular features. “How many reserved books were picked up?”
    “Six or seven, I think.”
    Miss Penwell adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. “You should know exactly, Miss Brandt. Did you make any phone calls to remind people about their books?” She pressed a few keys on the computer.
    “Yes, Miss Penwell.”
    The head librarian kept her eyes on the computer screen. “And how many patrons are in the building right now?”
    Callie had counted five minutes ago, knowing Miss Penwell would ask. “Eight people are in the main room, four children in the book nook, eleven people in the conservatory, and one person upstairs.” She wondered how long Lane Hutchins would stay. He had been in the Wyoming Heritage Room almost two hours.
    Miss Penwell scanned down the list of those who had checked out. “Only seven books from Casper were picked up. Why don’t these people come and pick up their books? Don’t they understand we have to order these from somewhere else? We have to send them back.”
    Callie shrugged, knowing it was useless to answer.
    Outside, a car backfired.
    “Oh, that awful Spencer boy is here.” Miss Penwell glared at Callie as if it was her fault. “I hope he didn’t bring any of his friends with him. The last time they were in the library, they made so much noise that I kicked them out.”
    Chance Bixby, the janitor, ambled toward the conservatory. He held a mop in one hand, and the front of his shirt was soaked, emphasizing his potbelly. He glanced at the two women and lifted his baseball cap an inch. “Hey there, Callie.” The light cast a glint on his gold front tooth.
    “Mr. Bixby!” Miss Penwell folded her arms across her thin chest and stared at him.
    “Well, hello there, Lucille. Nice day, eh?” He moseyed toward the conservatory.
    Miss Penwell huffed out a breath. “A word with you, Mr. Bixby.”
    He stopped and frowned at her.
    “Have you fixed that hole in the ceiling of the main room?”
    “No, I haven’t.” He began to walk away.
    “Why not? It’s not going to fix itself. That hole is a danger to our library patrons. More plaster could fall and hurt someone.”
    Oh no
. Callie let a sigh escape. Miss Penwell was looking for a fight.
    Chance stopped. “No money. That’s why.”
    “What do you mean? We have a repair fund.”
    “It’s empty—as if you didn’t know.” Chance headed toward the conservatory.
    “Mr. Bixby, come back here! I’m not finished speaking with you!”
    Chance sighed and walked back to the checkout counter. “Well, I’m done. If there’s no money in the repair fund, how can I fix anything? No money, no repair. Even
you
should be able to understand that.”
    Miss Penwell ignored the insult. “Then talk to