was a second chance. For both of them. He fully intended to win her heart once more.
eleven
Late the next morning, rain drops pattered the windshield as Lauren pulled into the parking lot of Emerald Cove’s tiny library. The A-framed building with its rough-hewn logs and green metal roof hadn’t changed much since she left. Vibrant purple and yellow pansies spilled from the flower boxes under the rectangular windows. A sculpture of a grizzly bear with a salmon in its mouth still stood near the front door.
She turned off the car and grabbed her purse. Let’s see what we can find. The story of Mallory and her boyfriend dying in that accident and leaving behind a baby haunted her. It probably wasn’t a matter of public record, but she desperately wanted to find her cousin. Please tell me that such a tragic story had a happy ending.
Jogging up the sidewalk, she side-stepped a woman and a gaggle of preschoolers coming out of the library. Lauren smiled. Story time was one of her and her brothers’ favorite outings when they were little.
Once inside, she drew in a deep breath. Yep. Still smelled like she was standing in the middle of a wood pile. The woman sitting behind the front desk looked up from her computer and smiled politely over the rim of her glasses, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind her ear. Well, one thing had changed. Lauren didn’t recognize her. Where was Mrs. Woods? She’d worked at the library for as long as Lauren could remember.
“May I help you?” the woman asked with just a hint of a Southern accent.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Woods. Is she working today?” Lauren craned her neck to see down the aisles of books that filled the rectangular room.
The woman’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. She retired about five years ago. I’m Olivia Gilmore. Is there something I can do for you?”
Lauren’s sighed. Dang it . Mrs. Woods knew everything there was to know about Emerald Cove. “I’m looking for some information about an adoption that occurred in the mid-eighties. Maybe 1986. Does the library keep any kind of public records?”
Mrs. Gilmore removed her glasses and set them on the desk. “Funny you should ask. We’re in the process of converting all those files from microfiche to digital. A ginormous undertaking, if I do say so myself.” She slid off her stool and came around the counter. “Follow me.”
Her heart rate kicked up a notch as Lauren followed the petite woman in her lilac sweater set and gray pencil skirt into a small alcove not much bigger than a storage closet. File boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling, with dates scribbled in black marker on the ends. There was barely enough room for two people to stand among the towers. Wow. The entire history of Emerald Cove, shoved into a closet. Wonder what other secrets these boxes could reveal.
Mrs. Gilmore shoved a box aside with her low-heeled pump and reached around to flip the switch on the microfiche machine. It whirred to life and she dragged two old plastic milk cartons over, stacked them together and patted a bath towel serving as a makeshift cushion. “Not the best seat in the house, but it will have to do. Remember how to work one of these?”
Lauren bit her lip. “I think so.” She glanced around. “Any idea where the eighties start?”
“Well, let me see.” Mrs. Gilmore leaned over and lifted the lid on a box closest to the machine. “1980 through ‘88. I think this is what you need.”
Dropping her purse on the floor, Lauren sat down on the milk carton and peered into the box. She carefully pulled out an envelope labeled ‘1985’. Okay, Aunt Mallory. Show me how this all went down.
“Let me know if you need anything.” The librarian called over her shoulder as she returned to her post.
Lauren scoured the headlines of the Emerald Cove Gazette from 1985. She smiled, recognizing the birth announcements of kids a year ahead of her in school. It mentioned deaths, a couple of marriages, basketball
eleven
Late the next morning, rain drops pattered the windshield as Lauren pulled into the parking lot of Emerald Cove’s tiny library. The A-framed building with its rough-hewn logs and green metal roof hadn’t changed much since she left. Vibrant purple and yellow pansies spilled from the flower boxes under the rectangular windows. A sculpture of a grizzly bear with a salmon in its mouth still stood near the front door.
She turned off the car and grabbed her purse. Let’s see what we can find. The story of Mallory and her boyfriend dying in that accident and leaving behind a baby haunted her. It probably wasn’t a matter of public record, but she desperately wanted to find her cousin. Please tell me that such a tragic story had a happy ending.
Jogging up the sidewalk, she side-stepped a woman and a gaggle of preschoolers coming out of the library. Lauren smiled. Story time was one of her and her brothers’ favorite outings when they were little.
Once inside, she drew in a deep breath. Yep. Still smelled like she was standing in the middle of a wood pile. The woman sitting behind the front desk looked up from her computer and smiled politely over the rim of her glasses, tucking a strand of long blond hair behind her ear. Well, one thing had changed. Lauren didn’t recognize her. Where was Mrs. Woods? She’d worked at the library for as long as Lauren could remember.
“May I help you?” the woman asked with just a hint of a Southern accent.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Woods. Is she working today?” Lauren craned her neck to see down the aisles of books that filled the rectangular room.
The woman’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. She retired about five years ago. I’m Olivia Gilmore. Is there something I can do for you?”
Lauren’s sighed. Dang it . Mrs. Woods knew everything there was to know about Emerald Cove. “I’m looking for some information about an adoption that occurred in the mid-eighties. Maybe 1986. Does the library keep any kind of public records?”
Mrs. Gilmore removed her glasses and set them on the desk. “Funny you should ask. We’re in the process of converting all those files from microfiche to digital. A ginormous undertaking, if I do say so myself.” She slid off her stool and came around the counter. “Follow me.”
Her heart rate kicked up a notch as Lauren followed the petite woman in her lilac sweater set and gray pencil skirt into a small alcove not much bigger than a storage closet. File boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling, with dates scribbled in black marker on the ends. There was barely enough room for two people to stand among the towers. Wow. The entire history of Emerald Cove, shoved into a closet. Wonder what other secrets these boxes could reveal.
Mrs. Gilmore shoved a box aside with her low-heeled pump and reached around to flip the switch on the microfiche machine. It whirred to life and she dragged two old plastic milk cartons over, stacked them together and patted a bath towel serving as a makeshift cushion. “Not the best seat in the house, but it will have to do. Remember how to work one of these?”
Lauren bit her lip. “I think so.” She glanced around. “Any idea where the eighties start?”
“Well, let me see.” Mrs. Gilmore leaned over and lifted the lid on a box closest to the machine. “1980 through ‘88. I think this is what you need.”
Dropping her purse on the floor, Lauren sat down on the milk carton and peered into the box. She carefully pulled out an envelope labeled ‘1985’. Okay, Aunt Mallory. Show me how this all went down.
“Let me know if you need anything.” The librarian called over her shoulder as she returned to her post.
Lauren scoured the headlines of the Emerald Cove Gazette from 1985. She smiled, recognizing the birth announcements of kids a year ahead of her in school. It mentioned deaths, a couple of marriages, basketball
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