Chapter 4 4

The library's transformation was slow and demanding, but the following week passed with a surprising sense of momentum. The west wing's foundation repairs began in earnest, and the scaffolding outside now braced the once-unstable structure. Despite the steady progress, Emily often found herself clashing with Jake over decisions both large and small. Today, however, the argument boiled over into something neither had expected.

Emily stood in the middle of the library's central reading room, arms crossed as she stared down at a stack of paint samples spread across a table. "We need to use softer tones. Something warm, inviting-like it was back in the day. This is supposed to be a community space, not a sterile office."

Jake leaned on the opposite side of the table, shaking his head. "And softer tones are going to do what, exactly? Make the walls hold up better? We need durable materials and finishes that can withstand actual use. That's what people care about, not the shade of paint on the walls."

"They care about how the space makes them feel," she shot back, her voice rising. "The atmosphere matters just as much as the structure. You wouldn't understand-you're too busy focusing on nuts and bolts to see the bigger picture."

His jaw tightened, and Emily could tell she'd struck a nerve. Jake straightened, his tone sharp now. "The 'nuts and bolts' are what keep this building standing, Monroe. Maybe if you spent less time with your head in the clouds and more time dealing with reality, you'd see that."

Heat surged to her face. "Don't talk to me about reality. I'm the one who has to answer to the investors if this place doesn't meet their vision. You think they're going to care about structural integrity over aesthetics?"

Jake laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of humor. "They'll care when the roof collapses on their heads. But sure, let's make the walls a nice soft cream while we're at it."

The air between them crackled with tension. Emily's fists clenched at her sides, but before she could retort, a loud crash echoed from the west wing. Both of them froze.

Jake was the first to move, sprinting toward the source of the sound. Emily followed close behind, her heart pounding. When they reached the west wing, they found one of Jake's crew members kneeling by a collapsed section of the floor, tools scattered around him.

"Everyone alright?" Jake barked, his tone all business now.

The worker, a younger man named Miguel, nodded sheepishly. "I'm fine. Just stepped in the wrong spot. The floor gave out."

Jake extended a hand, helping Miguel to his feet. "Go grab some water and take a break. We'll secure this area."

Miguel nodded and left, leaving Emily and Jake staring at the gaping hole in the floor.

"We should've reinforced this section sooner," Jake muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Emily stepped closer, peering into the hole. Beneath the broken planks, she spotted something glinting in the dim light. "Wait... what's that?"

Jake frowned, following her gaze. He grabbed a flashlight from his tool belt and shone it into the hole. Beneath the rubble, a metal box lay half-buried in the dirt.

"What the hell?" he murmured, crouching down.

Emily's curiosity flared. "It looks old. Maybe it's connected to the library's history."

Jake glanced at her, then back at the box. "Only one way to find out."

He carefully reached into the hole and pulled the box free. It was heavy and rusted, but the latch was still intact. He set it on the floor between them and looked at Emily expectantly.

"You open it," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and caution.

Jake smirked. "Afraid it's booby-trapped?"

"Just open it, Harper."

With a chuckle, he pried the latch open. The lid creaked as it gave way, revealing a collection of documents and photographs inside. Emily knelt beside him, her breath catching.

"These must be decades old," she whispered, carefully picking up a photograph. It was black-and-white, showing a group of people standing in front of the library. A young woman with a bright smile stood at the center, holding a book in her hands.

Jake leaned closer, studying the photo. "That must be Evelyn," he said, pointing to the woman.

Emily nodded, her excitement growing. "And look at the man next to her. He's holding a blueprint-it could be the architect or one of the builders."

They sifted through the documents together, uncovering letters, architectural sketches, and even a handwritten journal. Emily's hands trembled as she turned the pages of the journal, its ink faded but still legible.

"This is incredible," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's like finding a time capsule."

Jake's expression softened, the usual edge in his demeanor replaced by genuine interest. "You were right," he admitted. "Understanding the history of this place... it does matter."

Emily glanced at him, surprised by his admission. For a moment, the animosity between them melted away, replaced by a shared sense of wonder.

---

That evening, Emily and Jake sat side by side in the inn's common room, poring over the contents of the box. Lily had brought them coffee and snacks, her curiosity piqued when they explained what they'd found.

"This is like something out of a movie," Lily said, her eyes wide. "You two make a pretty good team, you know."

Emily snorted, not bothering to look up from the journal. "Don't get used to it."

Jake chuckled, flipping through one of the letters. "She's stubborn, but she's got good instincts."

Emily shot him a look, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult. "And you're surprisingly capable when you're not being insufferable."

Lily laughed, shaking her head. "You two are ridiculous."

They spent hours piecing together the story of the library's origins. The letters revealed that Evelyn had been a schoolteacher who dreamed of creating a space where knowledge and creativity could flourish. She had partnered with a local architect, Henry, to bring her vision to life.

The journal hinted at something more personal between Evelyn and Henry-a budding romance that seemed to grow alongside their project. But the entries ended abruptly, leaving Emily and Jake with more questions than answers.

"Why did she stop writing?" Emily wondered aloud, her brow furrowed.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. "Maybe something happened. A falling out, or..."

"Or worse," Lily added, her tone somber.

Emily shivered at the thought. Evelyn and Henry's story felt unfinished, like a book with missing chapters. She was determined to uncover the truth, not just for the library's sake, but for her own growing sense of connection to the people who had built it.

---

The next morning, Emily arrived at the library with renewed determination. She set up a temporary display in the main hall, carefully arranging the photographs and letters they had found. The box sat in the center, a tangible link to the past.

Jake arrived shortly after, his usual smirk replaced by a look of approval. "Looks good," he said, nodding at the display.

"Thanks," Emily replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I think it'll help the community see why this restoration is important."

Jake glanced at her, his expression softening. "You're not bad at this, Monroe. Even if you are a pain in the ass."

She laughed, the tension between them finally easing. "And you're not as hopeless as I thought, Harper."

They worked side by side for the rest of the day, their bickering now tinged with a newfound respect. The library still had a long way to go, but for the first time, Emily felt like they might actually succeed.

Beneath the layers of dust and decay, something extraordinary was beginning to emerge-and so were cracks in the walls she'd built around herself.