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followed in my boss’s wake.
    “I agree with you, Louise Jane,” Mr. Uppiton said. He also was almost shouting, playing to the crowd once again. “I’m grievously disappointed in Bertie. I thought she had more sense.”
    “Obviously not,” Louise Jane said. “That job was promised to me. Me!”
    Andrew’s head bobbed in agreement. Partygoers whispered questions to each other.
    “It’s a total waste of library funds,” Mr. Uppiton said. “And not included in this year’s budget.”
    “My great-grandfather manned this very lighthouse. His dedication was nothing short of heroic. My grandparents, God rest their sainted souls, built this town. My mother raised funds for the restoration of the lighthouse.”
    “As I recall,” Aunt Ellen whispered in my ear, “Jane McKaughnan put on an enormous garden party. By the time she’d paid to have her grounds groomed and fountains installed to make it a suitable venue, rented a tent and a hundred chairs along with silver cutlery and crystal wineglasses, paid for a live string orchestra, and booked caterers for a full afternoon tea, with champagne, about ten dollars remained for the lighthouse fund.”
    I chuckled, despite myself.
    “It’s not as if the girl has any real community library experience, anyway,” Mr. Uppiton said, addressing the crowd. Louise Jane grinned maliciously beside him. “A
university
librarian. Totally useless.”
    “Quite right, Mr. Uppiton. I’ve said all along—haven’t I, Andrew?—that what we need here is someone from a true Bodie Island family. Someone who knows the history of the land, someone in whom the blood of the old families runs in . . .”
    “This is not the time nor the place.” Connor attempted to get a word in.
    “What we need,” Mr. Uppiton thundered, “is no further unnecessary expenses. About all this girl from. . . . from . . . Boston . . . is needed for is to make tea for Bertie and to shelve books.”
    “That’s enough.” Bertie pushed her way throughthe crowd of onlookers. Her whole body shook and a vein pulsed in the side of her throat. “I hired Lucy, who just happens to be a highly qualified librarian with a master’s degree, no less, because she is sorely needed here.”
    “I’ll admit she has the education,” Mr. Uppiton sniffed, “but really, Bertie, you have to learn to control your spending. Why, you could have hired Louise Jane here for a fraction of the cost.”
    “I could have hired a trained donkey for a fraction of the cost. But I need a librarian, not a trained donkey.”
    A couple of people tittered. Was Bertie—calm, sensible Bertie—calling Louise Jane a donkey?
    “Hey,” Louise Jane said.
    “But that’s beside the point. We don’t have the funds in the budget. You shouldn’t have hired anyone. As I have said . . .”
    “Over and over and over,” Bertie said. “Fortunately, hiring staff is my responsibility.”
    “As head of the library board, it is within my power to call a special meeting of the board to overturn your decision.”
    Bertie stepped forward. “You. Would. Not. Dare.” She punctuated every word with the poke of a long, thin finger into his chest.
    He sniffed. “Really, my dear. I will do whatever is necessary to maintain the integrates of this library and its funding.”
    Charlene laughed. Mr. Uppiton threw her a ferocious glance, and she was overcome by a coughing fit.
    “Most of the board seems to be here,” he said. “Icall an emergency meeting for tomorrow night. We will vote on terminating the position of assistant librarian and putting a moratorium on any further hiring.”
    “Hey,” Louise Jane protested. “That’s not what I meant.”
    Bertie’s yell drowned her out. “You pompous jerk! How dare you override my authority in this manner. I won’t stand for it.”
    “You,” Mr. Uppiton said, “have no choice. Now, where were we, Your Honor? I believe we were discussing my idea for installing a contemplative fountain on the library