Free Serendipity Green by Rob Levandoski

minute!”
    The president’s attempt at humor falls flat and, en masse, EDIT demands that the library board do exactly that. “I’ll supply the bats,” Darren Frost, president of the Little League, offers. The meeting ends.
    As EDIT retreats down the rows of folding chairs borrowed from Barrow Brothers and the Moose Club, the library board president goes straight for Katherine Hardihood. The library board president is D. William Aitchbone. “It’s going to be hard to get the toothpaste back in the tube on this one, isn’t it?” he says.
    â€œI just hope the board doesn’t fold,” she answers.
    Aitchbone chuckles, knowing exactly what she means. “Now Katherine, I may wear a politician’s hat on the village council, but I wear a librarian’s hat here.”
    Katherine Hardihood twists the white knit cap in her hands, wanting to pull it straight down over Bill Aitchbone’s head, until only his Adam’s apple is showing. “I hope so.”
    He changes the subject—to the subject he cares about most. “So, what do you think about my privatization plan, Katherine? I saw you at the council meeting.”
    â€œOf course you saw me. Other than Sam Guss, who else goes to those boring meetings?”
    â€œIt would be good if Howie Dornick went once and a while.”
    Katherine Hardihood pulls the knit cap over her own head. “I’m sure he hears what goes on.”
    â€œLet’s hope he does more than hear,” D. William Aitchbone says. “Let’s hope he listens.”
    â€œWhether he listens or not is up to him.”
    â€œHe needs a good friend right now, Katherine. Someone to help him do the right thing.”
    Katherine Hardihood puts on her mittens, wishing they were brass knuckles. She turns to leave. D. William Aitchbone puts his hand on her shoulder and swivels her about, just the way he had swiveled Woodrow Wilson Sadlebyrne that night by the gazebo when the February snow was blowing horizontally. “I’m ready to stand up to these EDIT people, whatever it costs politically. Between you and me, they’re a bunch of nutballs. But they do have a right to have some input.”
    â€œInput, Bill?”
    â€œMaybe put one of them on the board. There’ll be an empty seat in the fall. Reverend Biscobee’s a good man. Be good to have someone from the clergy on the board. What do you think, Katherine?”
    What Katherine Hardihood thinks—what Katherine Hardihood knows—is that D. William Aitchbone is threatening her with her job, just as he is threatening Howie Dornick with his, just to get a coat of paint on that little two-story frame house on South Mill, just down the street from his impressive Queen Anne. “I’m just a branch librarian, Bill. Who sits on the board is up to somebody’s else.”
    â€œBut you know I count on you. You’re one smart lady.”
    When Katherine gets home from the library board meeting she takes another package of rhubarb from the freezer.
    Howie Dornick goes to the door. “Katherine? Not another rhubarb pie?”
    â€œYou enjoyed the last one so much, I figured, ‘Jiminy Cricket, what the heck!’”
    He leads her into the kitchen, feeling like a turd because he threw half of the last rhubarb pie away. “I’ve still got coffee in my Thermos, if you’d like some?”
    â€œCoffee’d be nice.”
    He pours two cups. She finds the silverware drawer on the second try and slices the pie. He takes two of his mother’s best plates from the cupboard. Each taking their own plate and cup, they shuffle to the living room. They eat as many forkfuls of pie as they can without talking. The silence gets to Howie Dornick first. “I suppose you want to talk about me painting my house again?”
    â€œHe’s really turning the screws, Howard.”
    â€œWell, I ain’t gonna paint it.”
    â€œHe’s