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interrupting Taylor tartly, asking a question she already knew the answer to. “We always go late.”
    “We’ve always been allowed to go as long as we want,” Virginia chimed in. Virginia was Maureen’s best friend and minion. “I can’t remember the last time we had to end at seven thirty.”
    “You know why,” Taylor said crisply, “and I can’t join the committee meeting until this room is locked for the night, so let’s wrap up, and you can continue at the Java Café, as you usually do on Tuesday nights.”
    “So how are those tickets selling?” Maureen asked, leaning back in her chair and folded her arms across her stout chest.
    “I think the committee said they are at two thirds of their goal,” Taylor answered, stacking her book and notepad together before sliding them into her leather satchel. “It would have been nice to sell out, but we’ve almost one hundred and fifty people attending, and that’s fantastic.”
    “Apparently half of those attending have been given tickets to make the event appear successful,” Maureen sniffed. “But I’m not surprised you’d have to do that. Who around here can afford to attend a party that costs two hundred dollars?”
    Taylor breathed in, and out, her pleasant smile never once faltering. She didn’t understand why Maureen enjoyed being petty but she wasn’t going to let the nastiness get to her. “I don’t believe that’s true, Maureen. Yes, big donors and underwriters have been given tickets in exchange for sponsoring the Ball, but the committee has sold the majority of the tickets, and it’s not two hundred per person, it’s two hundred per couple, and that covers dinner, dancing, wine at dinner, and pictures.”
    Maureen grimaced. “You’d have to pay me to attend a black-tie ball that’s being held to launch a wedding contest. Only a Californian would come up with an idea as ridiculous as that.”
    Taylor opened her mouth to protest, wanting to remind them that the Wedding Contest was the 100 year anniversary of Marietta’s 1914 Great Wedding Giveaway, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
    Instead she quickly checked her phone as she stashed her book and notepad in her leather satchel. A missed call from Jane. Nothing from Doug. Good.
    Taylor went around the room, pushing in chairs, picking up scraps of paper left behind before turning off the lights, locking the door and heading downstairs to the main floor.
    “Off to the Wedding committee meeting?” Louise, the Children’s librarian, asked, passing the foot of the stairs with three children in tow.
    “On my way now,” Taylor answered, smiling as the little preschool boy chased two little girls around the plant in the lobby corner.
    “Apparently Troy Sheenan will be at the meeting, too,” Louise said. “Don’t know if you’ve met him, but he’s quite something. Marietta’s most eligible bachelor and all that.”
    Taylor furrowed her brow. Did everyone have a thing for him? “Hadn’t heard,” she said, trying very hard not to remember her dream last night... and the kiss.
    “Jane sent me a text saying she hadn’t been able to reach you, but she wanted me to know, which is why I’ve been hovering a bit in the lobby. I was hoping to give him a hug. I like the Sheenan boys. They’ve done well for themselves. Very successful young men. Well, all but Trey. Trey’s in and out of trouble, but he’s not a bad person. He’s a sweetheart, he is. He was always my favorite Sheenan.” She nodded at the four year old boy who was still chasing the little girls around the potted plant. “See that little guy there? That’s TJ, Trey’s boy, and the spitting image of him, too.”
    Taylor caught a glimpse of black hair, blue eyes and dimples before the three children veered off in the opposite direction, and now headed towards the Children’s section. “Who is his mom?”
    “McKenna Douglas.”
    “McKenna? Our McKenna... our photographer on the Wedding committee?”
    “The