Lakeshore Christmas by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online Page B

used every day. Unfortunately, it was the right word for the current situation. Fixing a determinedly pleasant smile on her face, she said, “Wecan send out an emergency appeal. Do another fund-raiser. A whole series of them. What about an urgent letter, a capital campaign? An auction or event—” Her smile sagged as she surveyed their bleak faces. “I know. We’ve done all that.”
    “And frankly, we don’t even have the money for postage,” said the treasurer.
    “What about emergency funds from the county? Or the state—”
    “Despite what we all think, Ms. Davenport, this is not considered an emergency like a wildfire or flood. The sad fact is, our expenses greatly outstrip our resources, and they have for quite some time.” He indicated the large, intimidating figure printed boldly in bright holly-red. “We’re not going to make it.”
    “There has to be something more we can do,” she insisted. “What about asking Mr. Byrne to renegotiate the terms of the lease? Or ask for an extension until we can come up with more funds.”
    “Warren Byrne? He’s the stingiest man in town.”
    “And the richest,” she pointed out.
    “He got that way by being stingy. He’s never given the library a penny.” Mr. Shannon shook his head. “We’ve asked, and he’s refused. The sum we need is out of our reach, pure and simple. Our major donors have been more than generous, but there’s a limit to what can be done with private funding. Without the grant, we’re out of options,” he said with a weary sigh. “Times being what they are, even our biggest donors are overcommitted—or tapped out. Perhaps if the recent bond issue had passed, we wouldn’t be in this position, but the voters declined to approve it.”
    Maureen gritted her teeth. A small but vocal group of tax protesters had convinced people that the library wasnot worth saving if it meant a small added sales tax. She had campaigned hard for the bond, but it had failed.
    “Our state assemblywoman requested a budget variance on our behalf, and so has the city council,” Mr. Shannon was saying. “But the money is not there, not for this. There are other matters ahead of us in the queue.”
    The treasurer passed out her latest report. “Under the circumstances, we can’t come close to meeting our operating budget for the next year. We have until year’s end to close our doors and transfer all assets to the main library branch in the county.”
    Maureen saw her own despair reflected in their faces. “What’s going to happen to this place?”
    “Most of the collection and assets will be distributed among other library branches. The property is likely to be sold to a developer. Thanks to a building preservation ordinance, the space will be used rather than torn down.”
    “Used for what?” Maureen asked. She pictured the venerable old place, converted to a craft shop or B & B. Not that she had anything against craft shops or B & Bs, but this was a library.
    “You’re giving up, then,” she said. “Just like that.”
    “Not just like that,” Mr. Shannon said, his voice thin with weariness. “We’ve left no stone unturned. You know we’ve been working nonstop.”
    “I do know, I’m sorry. But…it’s the library,” she said in her broken whisper. She gestured around the room, its walls hung with old photographs depicting the library’s history. The arched doorway framed a view of the main room. In the half light slanting through the windows, the neat stacks and polished oak tables gleamed.
    “And that’s the problem,” Mr. Shannon said, donning his overcoat and flat driving cap. “It doesn’t matter toenough people. Most people I’ve talked to don’t see letting one library go as a total disaster. It just means a few more people will have to drive an extra twenty miles to get books, or wait for the Bookmobile to show up. Hardly the greatest of catastrophes in times like these.”
    Maureen felt a chill, knowing he was right.