Lindsey smiled. She wondered at the relationship between Emma and the detective. Trimble had been in town several times to assist with investigations. Word from all the matchmakers in town was that he was single. She figured it would be perfectly natural for them to form an out-of-the-office situation.
She shook her head. Clearly, she was spending too much time with the crafternooners if she was pondering the status of other people’s relationships like the crafternooners debated hers.
“So, there’s been no sign of Stewart?” Lindsey asked.
“No,” Emma said. “In fact, I was thinking that your library might be one of the places he feels safe. If he shows up—”
“You will be my first call,” Lindsey said. “Listen, there are two guys here who were supposed to meet with Peter about buying some of his things for their collectibles shop. I’m thinking you might want to talk to them on the off chance Peter said something to them that would be helpful.”
“Explain,” Emma said.
Lindsey told her their names, where they were from and that their website appeared legit.
“But it’s weird, right?” she asked. “I mean the fact that they’re here right when there just happens to be a tragedy.”
“Right,” Emma said. “Very coincidental.”
“I mentioned that they might want to talk to you about Peter,” Lindsey said. “So they may stop in to see you.”
“And if they don’t, at least I know where to find them,” Emma said. “You gave them Jeanette’s info?”
“Yes, I think they plan to stay with her for a couple of days. Calvin said he would feel odd not connecting with Stewart after they’ve come all this way.”
“Nice work, Lindsey. I may have to deputize you yet,” Emma said.
Lindsey opened her mouth to answer when Beth came roaring up to the reference desk. Instead of her usual story time outfit, Beth was dressed in a professional-looking skirt and blouse with high heels on her feet and makeup on her face. It looked like she’d even styled her spiky black hair. In other words, she looked like a grown-up.
It took Lindsey a moment to remember that Beth had been at a professional development meeting for children’s librarians in southern Connecticut that morning and had just arrived at work.
“I’ll be right—” Lindsey began, but Beth cut her off.
“I figured it out!” she cried.
“Emma, I’m going to have to call you back,” Lindsey said. “I have a library situation here.”
“No problem,” Emma said. “I think we’re done for now unless you have the new Dana Stabenow book in? I’m having a hard time sleeping with this leg and all, and I could use a good read.”
“I’ll fast-track a copy through processing for you and have one of our pages walk it over to the station this afternoon,” Lindsey said.
“Thanks,” Emma said. “You know you’re my favorite library director, right?”
“Ha! I’m also the only library director you know,” Lindsey said.
“That doesn’t make it any less true,” Emma said.
Lindsey laughed and hung up. Then she sighed. Her hold on the Stabenow book had just come in, but since Emma was injured and all, she supposed it was only right to let her have it. Emma’s broken leg earned her a pass to the front of the line.
Lindsey glanced up at Beth, who was looking like she might explode if she didn’t get to share her news soon.
“Sorry.” Beth cringed. “That was unforgivably rude.”
“Not completely unforgivable,” Lindsey said. “The conversation was done. What’s up?”
“I figured out why my numbers are down,” Beth said.
“Oh, well, that’s good, right?” Lindsey asked. “So you can fix it.”
“No!” Beth cried. “It’s even worse than I feared. I’ve lost my people to the competition!”
Lindsey looked at Beth’s distraught face. Beth had a flair for the dramatic, so Lindsey paused before rushing in and offering any suggestions. Well, that and her supervisory training had taught her to listen to her staff and see if they could problem-solve their own issues before she offered any advice.
“Do not give me supervisor face,” Beth said, obviously calling Lindsey out on her strategy.
“What?” Lindsey shrugged.
“You know what,” Beth said.
She grabbed a chair from an empty table and dragged it over to Lindsey’s desk. She sat down and propped her elbow on the edge of the desk and set her chin in her hand.
“I’m not some card catalog–hugging old-school librarian who is resistant to new technology who you have to guide into solving her own problems,” Beth said.
Lindsey raised her eyebrows. “That obvious?”
“Yes,” Beth sighed. “Now this is serious. I have seen the competition, and he is . . . oh man.”
Lindsey reached for her coffee and took a sip. It was getting cold, so she chugged it. She had a feeling this story was a doozy. She leaned back in her chair.
“Tell all and leave nothing out,” she said.
“At the youth services meeting this morning, there was a new librarian from Branford,” Beth said. “Oh, what does it matter? I’m doomed.”
“How can that be?” Lindsey asked. “You’re the best children’s librarian ever. How can this new guy be better than you?”
“I don’t think his knowledge of children’s literature or his ability with felt boards, puppets and finger plays is really factoring into the equation,” Beth said.
Lindsey frowned. “Well, unless he’s handing out free hot chocolate with marshmallows, I don’t see why he’s all that.”
Beth heaved a sigh. “Let me break it down for you. Who goes to story times?”
“Babies to preschoolers,” Lindsey said.
“And how do they get there?” Beth gave her a pointed look.
“Their moms?” Lindsey asked. Truly, she was lost.
“Exactly!” Beth cried. “Have you seen my story times? Have you seen who has been bringing their kids?”
“Lately? No.”
“It’s been all dads,” Beth said. She slapped her hand on the desktop as if she were banging a judge’s gavel.
“Call me crazy, but isn’t that a good—no—great thing?” Lindsey asked. “To have dads engaged in the critical first five years is terrific, right?”
“Yes, but where are the moms?” Beth asked.
Lindsey shrugged. Clearly, Beth was working up to something, and Lindsey was just going to have to be patient.
“They’re at his story time,” Beth said. “And why?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because he is freaking gorgeous,” Beth said. Then she thunked her head down on Lindsey’s desk as if she had expended the very last bit of energy in her soul. “He’s like the Ryan Gosling of youth services. I want to die.”
Lindsey bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her friend was obviously distraught. She would not laugh. She would not chuckle. She would not guffaw. She bit her lip harder.
“Maybe he’s just a novelty,” she said. “If he’s not a good storyteller, the kids will get restless and the moms will let go of the eye candy and come back for a really good story time with you.”
“But what if he’s good?” Beth moaned. “Then I’m ruined. My career is over. No one will come to story times anymore. I’ll just die clutching my finger puppets to my chest and singing an endless loop of ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.’”
Now a snort did escape out of Lindsey’s nose. When Beth glanced up at her, she held up her empty coffee cup and pretended to be choking.
She thumped her chest with her other fist and said, “Sorry, wrong pipe.”
“I should just hand in my resignation now,” Beth said.
“Okay, stop the crazy talk,” Lindsey said. It was all fun and games until her staff was ready to quit. Now she was in full-on director mode. “Think. How can we find out if his story time is any good?”
“We could ask one
of the traitors who has left my story time for his,” Beth said. She raised her head back up, and with a fiery glint in her eye, she scanned the library for one of her people.
“Yeah, no, I don’t see that going well,” Lindsey said. “I could call his director. She likes me. I could just ask her casually how her new hire is working out.”
“Like she’s going to tell you the truth,” Beth said. “With the numbers they’re rocking, she now has bragging rights for best programs in the area. She’ll be afraid you’re poaching, especially since we have a part-time vacancy.”
“You’re right,” Lindsey said. “Damn competitive librarians.”
She was joking, mostly, but Beth was not appreciating her humor.
“Covert op,” Beth said. She snapped her fingers. “That’s what we have to do.”
“Excuse me?” Lindsey asked.
Beth opened her purse and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. “Today. Lunch. Me and you are doing story time recon.”
Lindsey opened her mouth to protest, but Beth was out of her seat and striding toward the children’s area.
“Don’t worry, I have disguises for us to wear,” Beth called over her shoulder.
“Yeah, that was my big worry,” Lindsey said after her, but Beth was too far away to hear.
* * *
“No one is going to believe I’m a grandmother,” Lindsey said. “For that matter, no one is going to believe that Curious George there is a baby.”
“Don’t be such a doubter,” Beth said. “This will totally work. Besides we only need a solid fifteen minutes of observation to know whether he’s got any skills or not.”
“If anyone recognizes us, what are we supposed to say?” Lindsey asked.
“Simple,” Beth said. “We’re auditioning for the next community theater play and we wanted to get into our characters.”
Lindsey rolled her eyes. She looked like a drunken Mother Goose with a bad gray wig, granny glasses and a pair of sensible lace-up shoes. How did Beth talk her into these things?
“You owe me,” Lindsey said. “Big time.”
“Noted,” Beth agreed. She adjusted her blond wig and smoothed her flouncy skirt.
They were standing in the parking lot beside the minivan they had borrowed from Ann Marie, their part-time library clerk. Ann Marie had been more than willing to loan the vehicle to them with the understanding that they would return the van with a box of goodies from Cheri’s Bakery on Main Street.
Lindsey waited while Beth strapped on a baby sling that contained her large Curious George doll. She had dressed it in baby clothes, and Lindsey had to concede that he looked like a baby bundle in there, but if anyone caught a gander of his face, it was going to be game over for sure.
“Come on,” Beth said. “Story time just started. We can slide in a little late, which is even better for us.”
“Yeah, because we want people to notice us,” Lindsey grumbled as she let Beth pull her up the steps of the Blackstone Library.
Lindsey loved her small stone library building all the way down to her squishy middle. But the Branford Public Library, also known as the Blackstone Memorial Library, was a showstopper. The exterior was built of Tennessee white marble in the neoclassical revival style and sported columns modeled after the Athenian Acropolis. The building even had a dome, a freaking dome, the inside of which housed enormous paintings that illustrated the history of bookmaking.
Lindsey assured herself that it was perfectly normal to feel the green-eyed monster rear its spiky head when she walked through the big bronze front doors and paused to marvel at the beautiful building around her. Perfectly normal.
“Come on,” Beth said. She had her arms wrapped around George in a protective way as she marched toward the children’s department.
Lindsey followed, trying not to feel self-conscious, but her wig itched and the toes of her right foot were pinched. She began to hobble, which she figured only added to her image as an elderly lady.
They slid into the story time room and had to shuffle through the mass of people just to find standing-room-only spots in the far back corner along the wall. The good-sized space was packed with moms, toddlers and babies. There were even a few women who had children who were clearly school-age, sitting right up in the front row.
Lindsey glanced at Beth, who pointed to several of her regulars sitting in the crowd and mouthed the words I told you so.
Music was playing from an iPod set in a little speaker stand. The room was restless, as if everyone was waiting. The music started to get louder, and the toddlers wiggled in their seats. A baby fussed, but a mother quickly stuffed a pacifier in its mouth. The music gave way to the sound of sirens, and all of a sudden a fireman burst into the room.
For a moment, Lindsey wondered if there was a fire in the building, but, no, it was the librarian they had come to see. Lindsey could tell because Beth’s jaw had thumped onto the ground and stayed there.
Wearing a full-on fireman costume, the male story time librarian strode into the room, singing all about fire trucks. In no time, the toddlers were up and dancing and pantomiming all of the moves that the librarian made. They drove the fire truck and felt the door for heat. They dropped to the floor and rolled. Then they opened up the hose and put the fire out. The moms helped their babies make the same moves with their chubby little fists. It was ridiculously adorable.
Lindsey glanced at Beth out of the corner of her eye. Her friend was singing the song along with the group, but instead of smiling, she looked distraught, as if it was taking all of her inner strength to keep from wailing. Oh dear.
The song finished to much applause, and Lindsey heard one of the moms let out a loud “whoop whoop” as if she were at a strip club and she now expected the fireman to take off his clothes. Lindsey glanced at the male librarian. Chiseled good looks? Check. Engaging grin? Check. Warm brown eyes? Check. Good physique? Check.
Yeah, it was easy to see why the mom got confused. To his credit, the librarian just grinned at her as if he thought she was carried away by the song and not him. Humility? Check.
Lindsey blew out a breath. She did not want to be the one to break it to Beth, but, yeah, her story times were screwed. There was no way she could compete with this guy, not in the man-starved world of baby and toddler moms, who usually left their houses just happy to not have spit-up on themselves.
This guy was charisma to the tenth power. Lindsey didn’t even have kids and she wanted to go to his story times. The man took off his fireman’s helmet and sat down on the floor. Several kids made a beeline for his lap, and he laughed and let them pile on top of him until he had a lapful.
He picked up Curious George and the Firefighters and began to read. He had a deep voice that he modulated as the story needed, making comical faces as he went, which caused the children to laugh.
“We can go now,” Beth whispered to Lindsey as he finished the story. “Just watching him with these kids is making my uterus hurt.”
Lindsey nodded. She could see where he would have that effect on a woman. She turned to head to the door only to discover that more people had arrived after them and there was no way they were getting past them to leave.
“We’re stuck,” she said over her shoulder to Beth.
“Aw, what?” Beth asked. She glanced past Lindsey and then sighed. “This is going to be torture.”
She was right. Not because the story time was bad; rather it was because the guy librarian was just that good. In fact, as Lindsey watched his music time with the kids, she realized that he reminded her of Beth with his over-the-top enthusiasm and his sunny disposition. It was like he was channeling her.
Finally, the story time ended to a huge round of applause. The good-looking librarian parked himself at the door handing out high fives, hand stamps and hugs as people left. Lindsey noted that a lot of the moms wanted hugs.
As they got closer to the door, Beth seemed to be stalling, letting people get ahead of her.
�
�Is something wrong?” Lindsey asked. She glanced at her cell phone. They were pushing their lunch hour to the max. As it was they would probably be at least ten minutes late back to work.
“I can’t talk to him,” Beth whispered. “He might recognize me from the meeting this morning.”
“This is only occurring to you now?” Lindsey asked.
“I was on a mission before,” Beth said. “I thought we’d be out of here by now. Quick, see if there is an exit door in the back and check if it is alarmed. If we run, I bet they can’t catch us.”
“I am not going through an alarmed door,” Lindsey said. “You’re just going to have to brazen it out.”
When they turned around, they were the last two people in the room. The male librarian was peering at them as if he thought he knew them. Then he broke into a grin.
“Beth?” he asked. “Beth Stanley?”
“Uh-oh,” Beth muttered.
“Let’s go with plan B,” Lindsey muttered.
“Okay, what was that again?” Beth asked.
“Community theater production,” Lindsey said as the man walked toward them.
“Right, got it,” Beth said. She gave a bright if somewhat forced smile to the story teller. “Hi.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It is you.”
“Guilty, ha!” Her voice was loud in the empty room, and Lindsey cringed.
“Hi, I’m Lindsey, Lindsey Norris,” she said and extended her hand.
The man took her hand in his and said, “Aidan. Aidan Barker.”
“A pleasure,” Lindsey said. She glanced at Beth, who was studying the toes of her shoes.
“I didn’t realize you were a mom,” Aidan said to Beth.
He sounded disappointed, and Lindsey noticed he was staring at Beth’s left hand as if it had deceived him.
“Oh, she’s not,” Lindsey said. “Not married and no kids, right, Beth?”
Aidan’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the baby sling, as if he thought Lindsey was missing something.
“I’m sorry, what?” Beth glanced up from her shoes, and Lindsey noted that her cheeks were bright pink with embarrassment.
A Likely Story Page 8