The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,1
and crossed the thick carpet to a pair of matching round-back, padded armchairs facing his desk. She perched on the brocade seat of the one on the right and placed her laced hands in her lap. She offered the dean a smile.
Fine tufts of white hair that stuck up like dandelion fluff on top of his head and bushy salt-and-pepper muttonchop whiskers gave him an almost comical appearance. But his stern frown spoiled any cheerful effect. A curtain of dread fell around her, and her stomach performed little flip-flops. A man who appeared so dire wouldn’t deliver good news. Felicity’s endless pit of nervousness suddenly seemed less far fetched.
He settled in his chair. “Thank you for coming, Miss Cowherd. I know this is a busy time for students, preparing for final examinations.”
“Yes, sir, it is.” She forced herself to speak calmly. “But I presumed it was something important.”
“You presumed correctly.” He opened a folder that lay on an exceptionally large blotter, his movements slow and painstaking, giving the impression the card stock folder was actually formed from a slab of stone. He tapped the top page of the short stack of papers inside the folder with his long, bony finger. “Your academic achievements are impressive, Miss Cowherd. Yours are among the highest scores in the junior class.”
The acrobats in her stomach slowed their leaping. Perhaps his grim countenance was by habit. Even Preacher Finley back home in Georgetown was a somber man who rarely smiled but had a very kind heart. She placed her hands on the chair’s carved wooden armrests and crossed her ankles, allowing her tense muscles to relax. “Thank you, sir.”
He slid the sheet of paper aside, his gaze seeming to follow its path, then lifted a second page and squinted at it. “Every report from your professors is positive, praising your deportment, responsibility, and morals.”
Addie lowered her chin, battling a wave of pride. Her mother stressed humility. She wouldn’t shame Mother by gloating, but it surely sounded as if she were about to receive some sort of award. She coached herself to respond appropriately when the dean finally explained why he’d called her to his office.
“Which is why it saddens me to dismiss you as a student.”
She jerked her head upright so abruptly her neck popped. A spot below her left ear burned as if someone had touched a match to her flesh. She rubbed the spot and gaped at the man. “Dismiss me? But why?”
He closed the folder. “Lack of payment.”
Addie’s jaw dropped. “L-lack…” She shook her head. “There must be a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake, Miss Cowherd. The tuition and board payments ceased to arrive in February. Your parents were allowed our standard three-month grace period, but despite repeated letters requesting payment, no monies were sent. Thus, we have no choice but to prohibit you from attending classes.”
“But it’s only a week to the end of the term. Won’t I be allowed to take my final examinations?”
“I’m afraid not.” The man’s expression and tone revealed he took no pleasure in delivering the mandate, but that recognition did little to comfort her. “Campus personnel and each of your instructors have been informed of the decision. Any attempts to enter classrooms or the cafeteria will be met with an immediate response from security officers.”
Who would escort her away in humiliation. She’d witnessed such happenings more times than she cared to recall during her years at the college. With so many families struggling financially due to the stock market crash of ’29, college was a luxury many couldn’t afford. She never thought she’d be one of the unfortunate ones, though.
She shifted to the edge of the chair and implored the man with her eyes. “Dean Crane, there must be some sort of mistake. I’ll call my parents. I’m positive they’ll send the money right away.” They’d never denied her anything she truly needed. And she needed her degree. “If they promise to do so, may I stay?”
“It’s been three months, Miss Cowherd.”
Fear and worry battled for prominence. “But my father never lets bills go unpaid. Not ever. The payments must have gotten lost in the mail. Or stolen.” Yes, that had to be it. She stood. “Aren’t there desperate people everywhere? Someone must have known there was money in the envelopes and taken them before they could reach the college. There can be no other explanation.”
Dean Crane stared at her for several seconds, lips set in a grim line, beady eyes narrowed. Finally, he sighed.