Not Playing Fair (The NOT Series Book 2) Read online

  Not Playing Fair

  Terri Osburn

  Copyright © 2021 by Terri Osburn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Bookin’ It Designs 2021

  Dedication

  For my Favorite Boys. You were both a help and a hindrance for this one.

  Contents

  Also by Terri Osburn

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Terri Osburn

  About the Author

  Also by Terri Osburn

  Find them all here

  The NOT Series

  Not You Again

  Anchor Island Series

  Meant To Be

  Up To The Challenge

  Home To Stay

  More To Give

  In Over Her Head

  Christmas On Anchor Island*

  *coming Oct 2021

  Ardent Springs Series

  His First And Last

  Our Now And Forever

  My One And Only

  Her Hopes And Dreams

  The Last In Love

  Shooting Stars Series

  Rising Star

  Falling Star

  Wishing On A Star

  Among The Stars

  Stand-Alones

  Ask Me To Stay

  Wrecked

  Awakening Anna

  Chapter One

  Moments like these were the reason I loved my job.

  “Ms. Megan, Jeremy has his feet on his chair, and the chairs don’t like that.”

  As a librarian, my favorite patrons were our children’s reading group, and I was fortunate to work with them several days a week. During our last story time, we read a book in which chairs aired their grievances over how they were treated. It was good to know that Lucy had been paying attention.

  “Can you nicely remind him to put his feet back on the floor?” I asked.

  “I can do that,” she said, always ready to accept a mission.

  Though some might say she spent too much time policing the other children, I saw Lucy as a future leader and wouldn’t dare dim her light for anything. She simply needed to learn diplomacy, but she was only eight. There were people ten times her age who had yet to learn that particular skill.

  “Did everyone find a book?” I asked. After I read to them, each child was encouraged to then choose a book to read on their own.

  “Yes, Ms. Megan,” echoed back to me from around the room.

  The children’s reading program was held in the downstairs meeting room of the library, which meant the patrons upstairs were not disturbed. Other branches in the system had special rooms just for the children’s books, but we didn’t have that kind of space. Moving to a larger building or adding on simply wasn’t an option since we were housed in our original location built in the 1890s.

  One of my favorite pictures in the library dated back to the 1910s. In it, women and children sat together at long tables in the center of the main library space. When you looked away from the picture you could see that very little had changed. Even the enormous light fixtures hanging from the twenty-foot-high ceiling were the same.

  “Ms. Megan, will you read this to me?” said Ruby Laramie while tugging at the skirt of my dress.

  We weren’t supposed to have favorites among the children, but I couldn’t help but love Ruby. She’d been coming to the reading program since she was five, which was two years ago now. Even then she’d been able to read well above her grade level, yet she often asked me to read to her despite her skills.

  “This is your time to read by yourself,” I said, seeing she’d picked one of her favorite books.

  At the age of three, Ruby had been in a car accident that had taken her mother’s life and left the child’s face partially scarred from the fire that had nearly killed her as well. The book in her hands was called Eyes That Kiss in the Corners and was about a young girl learning to find the beauty in her Asian-shaped eyes. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Ruby related to a story about accepting what made one special, even when that something also made her different.

  “But I like when you read it,” she said.

  We’d had this discussion before. “If I read to you, then I have to read to everyone, and I already did that. Why don’t you read it to me?”

  Tucking the book against her chest, she dropped her eyes to the floor. “Then everyone will look at me.”

  “Why shouldn’t they look at you?”

  Her tiny shoulders shrugged as she said, “Never mind.”

  She ambled to a chair in the corner, and I spotted Elijah still searching the shelves. Like Ruby, he stood out from the other children, though his difference was easier to hide. Elijah had been born with only one ear so he kept his hair long to cover the bare space where an ear should be.

  I tapped him on the shoulder. “Have you not found a book yet?”

  “I don’t know what to get.”

  “I happen to know that Ruby is looking for someone to read to. Why don’t you ask her if you can listen?”

  Bright-blue eyes found the little girl alone in the corner. “Do you think she’d let me?”

  I nodded. “I’m sure she would.”

  Bottom lip slightly protruding, he debated for several seconds before nodding. “Okay, I’ll ask her.”

  Resisting the urge to escort him over, I watched him approach her only to stand in silence for several seconds until Ruby noticed him. There was a brief exchange before Elijah pulled a chair over, placing it so that she would be on the side he could hear from, and then she turned back the pages to start reading from the beginning.

  This was what made my job so rewarding. Not only introducing children to stories and helping them fall in love with the written word, but teaching them to share that love with those around them.

  “I need to get back upstairs,” I told Ms. Patty, a retired teacher who volunteered at the library and loved working with the children as much as I did. “If you need me, just call my desk.”

  “I’ve got this,” she replied. “You go on.”

  I took one more walk around the room to make sure everyone was settled in before stepping out and heading upstairs. Before I could reach my desk, my coworker cut me off.

  “I have a question for you,” said Miriam Webster. Yes, that was the actual real name of my fellow librarian. A couple inches taller than I was and on the round side, Miriam wore cat-eye glasses, beautiful braids that danced around her head, and her favorite shade of Pixy Pink lipstick, which she never let fade from her lips. “What if we’re all living in a simulation and none of this is real?”

  She’d obviously listened to another conspiracy theory podcast on the way to work today. This happened several times a week and led to conversations on topics ranging from lizard people to political intrigue to aliens living among us. As the voice of reason in these discussions, I played my part.

  “What if w
e are? Would knowing that change anything?”

  As she often did when faced with a rational response, Miriam visibly deflated. “I guess not.”

  “Exactly.” Pointing to the cart at the end of the front desk, I said, “These books still have to be reshelved, and no simulation is going to change that.”

  “You’re no fun,” she replied with a grin. This was a routine we’d performed countless times.

  “Who is no fun?” asked Cassie O’Malley, a young woman who had become a regular visitor recently.

  “Megan has no imagination,” Miriam replied.

  I rolled my eyes as Cassie caught on right away. “Shot down another theory, didn’t you? What was it this time?”

  “That we’re living in a simulation,” I replied. I’d never set out to be a skeptic. I’d simply been born with a deep-seated practicality that prevented me from entertaining such far-flung ideas. “To be fair, I did not shoot down the theory. I simply pointed out that true or not, our lives will continue just as they are so there’s no real point to the debate.”

  “But it’s fun,” Cassie replied with a shrug. “Nothing wrong with tossing around ideas for the fun of it.”

  I was not against doing things for the fun of it. My idea of fun simply differed from Miriam’s. And most other people’s, unfortunately.

  “Okay then,” I conceded, motioning with my hands to indicate the room around us. “What if this is all a simulation? What then?”

  Miriam and Cassie exchanged a puzzled look. “I don’t know,” Miriam said, giving the library patron a pleading expression.

  “Don’t look at me,” Cassie said. “It’s your theory.”

  “It isn’t my theory. I was just asking.”

  The two fell into silence and after several seconds, I said, “Well, that was fun. Cassie, how is your research going?”

  The young woman had traveled from California to Pittsburgh to learn more about her family.

  “Slow, but I’ve got a lead so I’m hopeful.”

  “Let us know if we can help.”

  “Ms. Knox, I need to see you.”

  I turned to find Jeffrey Chamberlain standing in the doorway to the stairs I’d just come up. He’d been my boss for a month now and had yet to use my first name. There were days I doubted he remembered it.

  “Yes, sir.”

  As he disappeared from sight, Miriam mumbled, “Good luck.”

  “Does he ever actually come up here?” Cassie asked. Jeffrey’s office was downstairs, across the hall from the meeting room. “I’ve never seen him in the library.”

  “Almost never,” Miriam replied. “I think he spends the day playing games on his computer, but I can’t prove it.”

  “Managing three branches is a lot of work,” I said in his defense. Not that I didn’t agree with my coworker’s theory—for once—but library employees gossiping with a patron about their boss was not a good idea. “I’m sure once he gets settled in he’ll be more accessible.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Miriam murmured. I shot her a warning glance and she changed her tune. “That’s true that he has a lot on his plate. Nancy was wonderful, but not the most organized person. Taking over for her probably hasn’t been easy.”

  Defending one boss by criticizing another wasn’t exactly a step in the right direction. Nancy Kitchens had overseen three branches of the library system for twenty years. Upon her retirement over the summer, Jeffrey had been hired, and the atmosphere of the library had changed immediately. Where Nancy had created a sense of family among the staff, Jeffrey felt more like a warden. He never smiled on the rare occasions we did see him, and he’d made no effort to get to know us beyond our assigned duties.

  The monthly potluck lunches were over. The group chat was gone. The Sunday check-ins and occasional after-work dinners were no more.

  It was a testament to how much I loved my job and my coworkers that I hadn’t yet asked for a transfer. With nineteen branches in the system, I certainly had that option, but this one was closest to my apartment, and I didn’t only love what I did, I loved where I did it. I wouldn’t let Jeffrey Chamberlain take that away from me.

  “If you’ll start reshelving these books, I’ll take over when I come back,” I said. “I’m sure whatever he wants won’t take long.” The few times I’d been summoned to his office, the questions had been simple and easy to answer. Where was this? What was the history of that? Nothing that required much of my time, thankfully.

  “No worries,” Miriam replied. “I’ve got this.”

  I crossed the short expanse back to the stairway, sliding a copy of The McGraw-Hill Encyclopedia of Science and Technology back into place on my way. These brief meetings were never enjoyable, but for some inexplicable reason, I found myself dreading this encounter more than usual. Dismissing the baseless apprehension, I descended the stairs and tapped on Jeffrey’s half-open office door.

  “What did you need?” I asked, hoping the question might be a quick one.

  “Sit down, Ms. Knox,” he said in his deep, raspy voice. So much for quick.

  Though smoking was not permitted in the library, Jeffrey Chamberlain carried a heavy scent of cigar smoke that made the back of my throat itch. I could only assume the smell clung to his clothing, as he’d added few personal items to what used to be Nancy’s cheery little office. The place could use a few of her plants to soak up the bitter tobacco smell.

  As I settled into the navy-blue upholstered chair, I gripped the narrow wooden arms and told myself not to breathe too deeply.

  “I wanted to let you know that changes are coming,” he began.

  My chest tightened. “Changes?”

  “The head office has brought in a consultant to show us where we can make cuts.” Looking at me for the first time since I’d walked in, he slid a sheet of paper my way. “The managers were asked to submit a list of programs conducted at each branch. I assume he’ll start by looking at these.”

  I knew this list, of course. I’d had a hand in creating several of the programs. At the top was the children’s reading program, which was the longest running program in the entire system. One that originated in this building more than a hundred years ago and was quite possibly the first of its kind in the entire country. I searched for some indication that the programs were weighted. An asterisk or other mark to indicate the ones that should be kept.

  There was nothing.

  “Surely you let them know that the children’s program can’t be cut.”

  “Everything is on the table,” he replied. “I’ll do my best to keep what we can, but there are no guarantees.”

  No guarantees my foot.

  “That program cannot be on the table,” I said, popping out of my chair. “Not only has it been an important part of this library for well over a century, but it’s also a crucial source of learning and support for the children in this area. Especially those without the financial resources to get that support elsewhere.”

  Unmoved, Jeffrey slowly lifted his eyes to mine. “Ms. Knox, I am sharing this information as a courtesy so that you might be prepared should we need to eliminate these programs. As I said, I will do what I can, but you should be ready to make cuts when the time comes.”

  His choice of the word when instead of if made my teeth grind. The man felt no connection whatsoever to what we did here. He didn’t care about the staff, and he clearly didn’t care about the patrons we served. I wanted desperately to ask why he’d even taken this job, but as I preferred not to lose my own, I clamped my lips shut.

  After a tense pause, he said, “If more information is requested about the programs, I’ll let you know.”

  He’d have to, considering he hadn’t taken the time to even ask about them before now. No doubt he’d take credit for whatever information I provided.

  I would not let this go without a fight. “Will you at least make sure I get the opportunity to defend the program if necessary?”

  Sighing as if exhausted by my persistence, he w
aved a hand in the air. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  And I would do the same, even if it meant going over Jeffrey’s head. The kids across the hall needed us. They needed one safe place where they could explore the world that lay ahead of them. Most were from broken homes and had already learned some harsh realities far beyond their years. Here, in our program, they could be innocent, curious, and supported.

  Jeffrey Chamberlain may not be willing to fight for them, but I was.

  Chapter Two

  At the end of the day, I was still fuming.

  “Wow,” Miriam said. “You only type that loudly when you’re really mad.”

  I hadn’t noticed the abuse I was giving the keyboard. Flexing my fingers, I said, “I’m forming a plan to deal with this consultant situation.”

  The logic of bringing in a random stranger to fix anything had never made sense to me. Yes, those who knew the programs well might be more attached to them, but that didn’t mean that we weren’t the best ones to determine what could and could not be cut.

  “That’s a good idea.” Settling into her chair farther down the counter, she said, “You don’t think they’ll let some of us go, do you?”

  I’d been so preoccupied with the programs that I hadn’t even considered the idea of staff cuts.

  “I don’t know. Jeffrey didn’t mention that.”

  Miriam returned to her feet to pace the small area between our workspaces. “I don’t want to work anywhere else. What am I going to do?”

  We already operated with a small staff so I couldn’t see this being an issue. “I really don’t think our jobs are at stake.”