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God, I hate how organizations ingratiate themselves to get my money, but it’s exactly what I need right now. “Fantastic! I’ll pay her salary for the next three years. Can I let her know that she has nothing to worry about when I see her tonight?”
Joëlle inhales sharply through her teeth. “The thing is, Bryan, you know I would, if the decision was mine. But we’ve signed a contract with a company—I can’t tell you its name, it’s still hush-hush—to turn our little library into a pilot project for automating libraries around the world.”
“Automating. Does that mean no more library assistants?”
“It’s very exciting. Cutting edge. The future of library management. And there’s a hefty donation for renovations, which we sorely need,” Joëlle chirps with excitement, and I have a sudden, deep hatred of birds.
“I could match the donation.”
“It isn’t about the money, Bryan,” she coos. I know full well it is always about the money. “The paperwork is already signed. And just think of the media attention… oh! That’s them on the other line. I have to run.”
I mimic her tone, “Well, thanks for nothing!”
“Oh, you are so welcome, Bryan. Like I said, anything for you.”
The line clicks and I tighten my grip on my phone. This should have been an easy fix. But if I can’t throw money at this problem, what can I do?
I need to clear my head. Some people have their strokes of brilliance in the shower. I have mine when I work out. So I head down to my home gym and push my body to the limit until it finally comes to me. I know exactly how I can help Jane—maybe not get her job back, but at least make things a little better.
BRYAN
I dress down in jeans, sneakers, a black T-shirt, and a ball cap to meet up with Jane. I’d managed to convince her over the phone to have dinner with me so I could tell her my news, but she insisted we go to a restaurant in town instead of eating at my mansion.
It’s the first time I’ve gone to a restaurant in five years, and I pull the cap low to disguise myself. There’s a high price to fame and fortune for people like myself, who are more comfortable with books and bots than bootlickers.
I have my driver drop me off at Jane’s place. She’s at the door before I even have time to knock, which gives me hope. But she looks more tired than happy to see me, and when I lean down to kiss her, she turns her head and accepts my lips on her cheek.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling nervous.
Jane gives me a half-hearted smile. “Amelia told me you called the Board president and offered to pay my salary.”
I nod, not sure if she’ll see this as a good thing or an entitled asshole move. Especially since it didn’t work.
“Thank you,” she says, stepping on tiptoes to give me a quick peck on the cheek. “That was sweet of you. Even if it turned out that the Library Board doesn’t even want me working for them for free.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel.” I reach out to hug her, but she takes a step back. I run my hand through my hair. “You still want to have dinner?”
“If you’re buying. Because, you know, I have to watch my budget now.” She gives me the least genuine laugh I’d ever heard, but I don’t comment.
I take her hand, and she lets me hold it as we walk the three blocks to the one fancy restaurant in town. The closer we get to the front door, the more I find myself slowing down, not willing to let the moment end.
Her palm feels perfect in mine. Warm and soft. Like she was made for me. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to let go. Not that Jane gives me much choice. She pulls away the moment we enter the restaurant, and it feels like the distance between us grows as we settle in a dark corner at the back and order wine.
Jane seems reserved. She doesn’t have the same energy—either the rage or passion—that I saw from her this afternoon, or the joy she normally exudes in her Book Talk with Byron videos.
“Are you worried about work?”
“Distracted. I can’t stop thinking about how my life is changing and I can’t stop it.”
“Would talking to me about it help or make it worse? You know, I’m a pretty good listener and problem-solver. I’m the guy who figured out how to get a robot to fold hand towels into three dozen different kinds of animals.”
Jane’s face lights up and she laughs. “Why in the world would you do that?”
“The owner of the resort in Moose Falls was struggling to compete with the little flourishes that European resorts offer. Some of them were easy—put Swiss chocolate on the pillow, complimentary Champagne in the minibar—but the truly personal touches? He could not find staff willing or able to do the work within his budget.”
“And swan-shaped hand towels are a deal-breaker in high-end hotels? Like—” Jane puts her hand on her hip and scowls. Then she speaks in the worst ever, possibly French accent. “Eef you cannot geev me my tow-ell in zee unicorn, I vill geev you one star rating.”
“Almost! Twenty-four animals, but no unicorns. I should offer that as an upgrade. It’s a great idea.”
