Chance of a Lifetime by Jodi Thomas

holes. When I told him we didn’t open until seven A.M ., he said he’d wait.”
    Zack Hunter licked the icing off a cookie and commented, “Some folks are addicted to sweets. Especially those powdered-sugar doughnut holes. I started out one summer with a dozen a morning habit and before I knew it I was buying grocery bags full. I even kept them in the freezer just in case morning didn’t come soon enough.”
    Martha Q looked at Zack like he just admitted to beingon drugs. She gathered her things and moved over one chair so the baker could have the seat next to Zack.
    Geraldine took a deep breath, wiggled into the open place between Zack and Martha Q, and apologized again.
    Everyone nodded as if voting to excuse her. Zack Hunter finished off his third cookie and told her how fine he thought they were. Geraldine’s round apple cheeks blushed.
    Next came a man in his late twenties who introduced himself only as Peter. He was tall and thin, with the look of an English major about him. He asked if he could sit in.
    When Emily said yes, he asked if he could smoke his pipe.
    She said no, but he kept it in his hand. She decided he was the only one of them who looked like a writer.
    Emily stood and welcomed everyone, then began with what she thought would be solid ground rules to set. “Anyone can read as many as ten pages of their work. All comments are to be positive and helpful. No one has to read to stay in the group.”
    When everyone agreed to the rules, she added, “The rest we’ll make up as we go along.” She tried to smile. “Now, who would like to read first?”
    Peter raised his hand and the group began.
    His story was about a dog that had been orphaned during the World War II bombings in London. The dog roamed the streets cussing at God for the horror he saw. It was a dissertation on social unrest.
    When Peter finished, Emily asked if there were any comments.
    Geraldine said she loved it and that she could almost believe she was there. Zack agreed, though he wasn’t sure he understood the true depth of the work. George said it reminded him of a great work about a roach in New York City, then took a moment to pass out ten-percent-off coupons for his bookstore. Martha Q said she didn’t think dogs talked, but if they did, they wouldn’t cuss. “But cats”—here she straightened like an expert—“they do cuss, so youmight want to consider changing the dog to a cat, and while you’ve got the eraser handy, maybe the Wars of the Roses would be better.”
    No one agreed or disagreed with her, so after a long pause, Peter politely responded, “I’ll think about your suggestions.”
    This seemed to make everyone happy, and to Emily’s surprise, they all began talking at once about which war would be best. No one mentioned the cat/dog conflict and she thought that was for the best.
    Everyone took a break for coffee and cookies while Emily stepped out to check on how things were going downstairs. She’d asked Pamela Sue to come in to cover the desk. Though the library had two employees, Emily didn’t feel like it would be fair to ask them to work at night since, after all, they never had.
    As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Pamela Sue knitting at the desk. Only a few of the usual Friday night crowd were around. All looked quiet.
    “How’s it going?” A voice from behind her made her jump.
    Emily turned to see Tannon sitting in his usual chair by the newspapers. “Fine. Good, actually.” She almost added that he was early. He rarely made it in before eight thirty. “Is something wrong?”
    “No. I just thought after you finish I could take you out for supper. You could tell me all about the writers’ group.”
    “That would be fine, but you don’t need to worry about me,” she said, wishing she could think of a reason not to go, but in truth it might be nice to talk about the meeting.
    “I’ll be here when you’re finished.” To her surprise, he frowned and lied. “I can’t wait