by Amy Lilly
"I wouldn't worry about it. She might think that no one reads books anymore, but I think we can definitely prove her wrong. We have at least a hundred people come here every day. The kids in this town all love our programs and our reading contests. The town council would be idiots to close the library to build a recreation center with just a reading room. Besides, there are other locations in this town where Carla could build. She’s just jealous because I exercise my brain and she doesn’t."
"I know that and you know that, but she doesn't care. If Carla has her way, she would get this building torn down and finagle a honey of a deal from the rest of the council. Somebody needs to stop her." Charlie slammed down the empty can and headed out the back door to put the bag in the outside bin. I knew he was right about Carla and her plans. I still thought I didn't have too much to worry about though. Carla was like a mosquito that constantly buzzed around looking for blood. It eventually went away or got squashed.
At ten o'clock sharp, I opened the doors. Charlie left to attend the fire department’s benefit breakfast. I stayed busy throughout the morning doing some family tree research for Mrs. Young. At noon, my other part-timer, Claire, came in. She was a high school student who loved books. She was quiet and did a great job. I occasionally would find her sitting on the floor somewhere immersed in a book when she was supposed to be shelving. I always let Claire continue reading. When I was a helper here as a teenager, the former librarian would shake her head at me and give me a knowing smile when she caught me hiding in a corner and reading a book.
I was busy cleaning up after one o'clock story time when I felt someone walk up behind me. Standing up quickly, I turned to see Grant Davis. Grant and I had been best friends throughout high school. We had both been on the debate team and had similar taste in movies, music and books. We lost touch when he left Miller's Cove to attend law school at the University of Iowa. I had heard he had moved back to town two months ago and joined the law office of Biddle, Smith and Talty.
"Phee Jefferson! It is good to see you," Grant said. He had filled out since his high school years. The extra weight looked good on him. His curly blonde hair that had given him a cherubic appearance in his youth was brushed back and he sported a mustache. It was a good look for him. I gave him a warm hug.
"Gosh! You look great. I heard you were back in town, but I didn't have a chance to hunt you down." I smiled at him.
"I got tired of waiting for you to call me, so I decided to come down here and see for myself that you actually became our town librarian last year."
"I sure did. I heard you became some big shot defense attorney at the local law firm. I guess you aren't doing too badly. I saw your mom just the other day at the market. She raved about how proud she was of you. She said that she missed us hanging out in the house driving her crazy. I know she's had a hard time since your dad passed away. I bet she's happy to have you home. My mom’s been checking on her and tries to take her out to lunch, but she seems to prefer to stay at home most of the time. Mom was finally able to get her to come here last week for a nature program. I think she enjoyed herself. She actually stayed afterwards to chat with folks," I said. My mom and Shari Davis became friends ten years ago when they both spent hours driving around town looking for Grant and me when we decided to skip school one day and go to an all-day marathon of classic movies at the local theater. He and I were grounded for a month, but our moms had been friends ever since.
"That's part of the reason why I came home. I called her every week, but I could tell she was depressed. I'm all she has left. I called Mr. Biddle Senior, he interviewed me, and well, here I am. Mom and I just got back from the fire department benefit breakfast. She asked me to swing by here so she could turn in her library books. If Mohammed won't come to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed!" I spotted Shari browsing the paperbacks on the other side of the library. I lifted a hand in greeting to her, and she waved back.
"Well, I, for one, am glad you are back. I need my best movie buddy. Juliet only likes horror movies and action films. She refuses to go with me when they do the classics marathon. Speaking of which, they are playing Gone with the Wind tonight. We should go!" I said excitedly. When we were kids, Grant was always willing to hit the theater with me regardless of what was playing.
"Well, that's another reason I wanted to come by and see you. Great minds must think alike. I saw that it was playing and immediately thought of you. I've been busy moving and getting settled, and I haven't had a chance to come see you yet. So you don't have a hot date already lined up?" Grant asked. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gave me a hopeful look.
"Nope. It was just going to be me and my cat curled up with a mystery tonight. How about I meet you at the theater about fifteen minutes before the show starts? That will give us time to get our Jujubes and slushies and try to snag our usual seats." It would be nice to get out of the house tonight and not dwell on the past few days.
"I have an even better idea. Why don't I pick you up at seven o'clock and we can have dinner at Mimi's then head over to the theater?" Grant suggested.
"That'll work. My house is the dark green bungalow at 566 Willow Street. You can't miss it. I have a bright orange '68 VW van parked in the driveway. Listen, it's been good to see you, but I should get back to work. These books are like gremlins and multiply when you aren't looking. I'll see you at seven." I reached over and gave him another quick hug.
"It's a date." Grant smiled at me, turned and walked away. I paused for a moment at the word "date." I shook my head. I was reading too much into it. Grant and I had been best friends growing up. While the other girls in school were busy chasing boys, polishing their nails and gossiping about the latest boy band, I was watching classic movies and reading Jane Austen. Grant's parents were a little older when they adopted him. He seemed to have grown up in a different era than the other kids. We gravitated towards each other and our friendship was sealed when Carla and her pack of hyenas had "accidentally" dumped a carton of milk on my shirt in the school cafeteria. They had all screeched that I was lactating. I had been mortified. Grant had come to my rescue when he yanked off his pullover and offered it to me. We'd been thick as thieves ever since. It was a shame we had lost touch during college.
The rest of the afternoon flew by. I closed up the library at five o'clock and hurried home to change. I chose a midnight blue silk blouse and paired it with my favorite faded jeans and brown riding boots. I spritzed my favorite 1920's perfume, My Sin, behind my ears. I flicked some mascara on my eyelashes and added a hint of peach lipstick. The addition of my favorite silver hoop earrings completed the look. I hoped my look said “casual night out with a friend.”
A few minutes before seven, I heard Grant pull up to the house. I grabbed my jacket and headed out to meet him.
"I was going to be a gentleman and come to the door," Grant said. He stepped out of his black Porsche 918 Spyder and walked around to open my car door for me. He had changed into a dark blue polo shirt with a black leather jacket.
I gave a low whistle. "Holy cow! You must be doing great to drive a car like that." I settled into the soft leather seats and gave a sigh of pleasure. Grant climbed into the driver's seat, pushed a button and the engine purred like a well-fed cat.
"I do alright. No wife or kids yet, so I decided to buy myself a toy with the money from the new job. I want to play a little before I grow up and settle down." Grant turned down Main Street towards Mimi's. The parking lot next to Mimi's was full since it was a Saturday night.
"I'll drop you off at the front door, drive down and park at the pharmacy. I’ll meet you inside," Grant suggested.
"I'll put our name on the list if there's a wait.” I climbed out when he pulled up to the curb. I walked inside and gave the hostess my name. She advised that a table should be ready in about ten minutes and suggested I order a drink. I sat at the bar and ordered a Cosmopolitan while I waited for Grant. As I turned to face the door to look for him, I was surpris
ed to see Clint heading towards the exit. Walking next to him was an attractive brunette. Turning away quickly so he wouldn't spot me, I attempted to track his movements in the mirror behind the bartender. A moment later, Clint appeared behind me with the woman. She must be the new love interest my mom had mentioned.
"Hi, Phee," Clint greeted me. I turned my stool towards him. Trying to appear calm, cool and collected, I took a sip of my drink. I swallowed wrong and ended up coughing and gagging. Clint patted me on the back. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just went down the wrong pipe," I gasped when I finally caught my breath. I could feel the blush of embarrassment from the roots of my hair all the way to my toes.
"This is Grace Winchester." Clint turned to the brunette. "Grace, this is my friend, Phee Jefferson."
"Nice to meet you, Phee. Is that short for something?" Grace had a low, sultry voice. I instantly hated her a little more for it. The fact that she was gorgeous didn’t help.
"It's short for Ophelia. Nice to meet you, too." I gave her a tight smile as I fingered the stem of my glass.
"Grace is here for a few days. I figured she couldn't leave Miller's Cove without trying Mimi's famous coconut cake. Grace is..."
"Were you able to get us a table, Phee?" Grant walked up and interrupted Clint before he could finish. "Clint Mason. Long time, man. How's it going?" Grant shook hands with Clint and then placed an arm around my shoulders.
"I’m doing alright. I heard you were back in town. What are you two up to this evening?" Clint glanced at Grant's arm around my shoulder. Did I imagine a slight tightening of his expression?
"We were just going to grab a bite to eat before catching the nine o'clock show at the theater. They’re playing Gone with the Wind, and it’s one of Phee’s favorite movies," Grant replied. I felt his hand tighten possessively around my shoulder. He leaned a little closer to me. Grant knew all about my teenage crush on Clint.
"Good to see you, Grant. Grace and I should get going and let you enjoy your date. Phee, I'll see you later." Clint turned and taking Grace's elbow, the two of them headed towards the door.
"It's not a date," I said quietly under my breath. "I guess I just met your new love interest though."
"I'm sorry," Grant said. "I couldn't hear you. The music is a little loud."
I smiled at him. "I said that I think a little bit of Mimi's famous coconut cake for dessert might be just the thing."
CHAPTER TEN
It seemed to her that she wanted more than anything in the whole wide world to see him for a moment—to hear the quick voice—to meet the sparkle of his glance. - Temple Bailey, The Trumpeter Swan
The next morning was Sunday, and I was a hot mess. I had spent the previous evening silently fuming over Clint and his new lady love. Grant sensed something was wrong and tried to draw it out of me, but I told him that it had just been a long week and I was tired. Trying to make up for my foul mood, I suggested that he come with his mother to the birthday dinner at my parent's house. He readily agreed. At the end of the evening when he leant in a little too close in expectation of a goodnight kiss, I gave him a brief hug and hurried into my house without inviting him in.
I pulled on my baby blue chenille robe and knotted it tightly around my waist. Choosing my pink elephant slippers from the closet, I slid my feet into them and scuffed my way to the front porch to grab the Sunday edition of the Miller's Cove Courier. After feeding Ferdie his Sunday treat of grilled tuna, I poured myself a cup of coffee and settled at the kitchen table to read the newspaper. The headlines blared out in large font, "Local Business Woman Found Dead!" Below the headlines was a photograph of Carla Karsen winning one of her awards as top local real estate agent. Holy cow! I didn't like her, but I certainly didn't want her dead. I read further.
"Local real estate agent, aerobics instructor and town council member, Carla Karsen, died in her home late last night. At approximately nine o'clock, an ambulance was dispatched after a call was received from Chris Karsen, the victim's husband, stating that the victim was delirious and violently ill. The ambulance arrived within moments and lifesaving treatment was attempted. Mrs. Karsen died before she could be transported to the hospital. An autopsy will be performed to determine the cause of death."
Leaning back against my chair, I tried to process what I just read. Poor Carla. What a horrible way to die and at such a young age. I felt guilty that I had made up a song about her a few weeks ago. Taking Paul Simon's Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover, I called my tune Fifty Ways to Kill Old Carla. Juliet and I had chuckled over it. Neither one of us had cared for Carla. Now, I actually felt a little ill that I had mentally plotted her death since high school. With a guilty sigh, I continued to read the paper. Below the headline news was a quarter-page article on the Huey Long murder investigation.
"Police have released further details regarding the death of local resident, Huey Long. According to Sheriff Dawes, Long was strangled in his home shortly after five p.m. on Thursday. Mr. Long had an online appointment at the time. According to the individual with whom he was video chatting, the suspect was wearing dark gloves and had on a dark blue or black hooded sweatshirt. The witness was unable to see the suspect's face due to the angle of the computer's camera; however, she did catch a glimpse of the perpetrator as they exited the room. She stated that the suspect had on white sneakers with a red Nike logo on the side. The funeral for Mr. Long will be held on Monday at 2:00 p.m. at Shaw's House of Eternal Rest. The family has requested donations to the local library in lieu of flowers."
I blew out a deep breath in surprise. I did not know Huey Long's family, but they must have known that he liked to frequent the library. The family probably didn't know how much we had to fight to get our stuff back from him every month or what a jerk he was when he did come in. I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.
I got up to fix myself breakfast. I gathered eggs, mushrooms, peppers and cheese from my refrigerator and began to prepare an omelet. I pulled out two slices of cinnamon bread and placed them in the chrome and turquoise 1950's toaster that I had recently discovered in my favorite antique store. I placed it all on a vintage milk glass plate with turquoise trim and sat down at the table to enjoy it. I was determined to have a good day despite the news of Huey and Carla.
After breakfast, I quickly washed up my few dishes and got dressed so I could go into town to buy Dad's birthday present. I drove to Grimsley's Fine and Rare Books. I loved the bookstore. The owner, Mr. Grimsley, had called me Saturday to let me know that he had located a first edition of Ernest Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls. I knew that Dad would be thrilled to add it to his growing collection of first editions by his favorite authors. My father was a professor of literature at the local college specializing in Shakespeare which is how my brother Richard, although we called him Rick, Juliet and I ended up with our names. I think I got the short end of the naming stick in the family. Nobody I knew was named Ophelia. I definitely did not want to be a tragic character like my namesake.
The bell jingled as I opened the door and entered another world. Mr. Grimsley's shop looked as I imagined a 19th-century bookstore in London would appear. The shelving was all dark cherry and large library-style tables were scattered across the hardwood floors. The floors were covered by beautiful Persian carpets to help muffle the sounds of footfalls.
"Hello?" I called out. I surveyed the shelves longingly. I wished my budget was as large as my wish list was long.
"Is that you, Ophelia? Give me just a minute. I’ll be right out," Mr. Grimsley gave an answering shout from the back room. He offered book repair service, so his work room was in the back of the shop. I had used him on several occasions to repair our rare genealogy books at the library. A few minutes later, he appeared with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with a string.
"I have your father's book ready for you." He handed me the package. "And for you, I have something quite special!" Although Mr. Grimsley immigrated to the States when he was in his late
twenties, he still retained his Scottish burr.
"Thank you for finding this for me. Dad's going to love it," I declared. I followed him to the cabinet next to the register and watched as he unlocked it. He reached up and selected a book. He handed it to me with silent reverence.
"The Trumpeter Swan by Temple Bailey. Oh my!" I gently opened the cover. "A first edition from 1920," I gasped with pleasure as I carefully looked through the pages. The illustrations were breathtaking.
"It's a gift for you, lass. It’s a thank you for being kind to my daughter when she was going through a bad spell. If not for you delivering books to her and sitting and visiting with her when she was ill...." His voice trailed off as he wiped at his eyes.
"This is too much," I replied. "I was happy to visit with Catherine." I closed the book and tried to hand it back to him.
"I won't take it back. It's a small gift for the kindness you did for me and my girl. I won't hear anything more about it." He wrapped the book up for me in brown paper. He tied it with a string and handed it to me.
"Thank you very much. I will treasure it forever." I reached out and grasped his hand briefly in thanks. "Now let me pay you for Dad's present, and then I have to go so I can run a few errands for Mom for next week’s big event."
Leaving the bookstore, I walked up the sidewalk to For Goodness Cake. Mom had ordered a white chocolate cake with raspberry filling for the party. I promised her that I would go pay for it and make sure it was going to be delivered on time next week. The heavenly scent of chocolate and butter cream frosting enveloped me as I opened the door of the shop. As I entered, I saw someone else was standing at the glass cases. Grace Winchester, Clint's date from the night before, was selecting a muffin. The girl behind the counter wrapped a blueberry cream cheese muffin in paper and handed it to Grace.
As she turned to leave the store, Grace almost ran into me. “Whoops! Oh, hi! Ophelia, right?”