The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series)

by Deena Remiel

  Finally at her doorstep, she opened the door with her key and slunk inside. Tossing her purse and keys on the little foyer table, she threw herself onto the couch. The cushions slowly absorbed her body, creating a cocoon-type effect. Just what she needed. A hug at the end of an excruciatingly difficult day. A grumbling, gurgling sound reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. This schedule sucks! I must demand a dinner break be worked into the schedule tomorrow. It’s how her old library operated, and it’s probably a labor law anyway. If need be, she’d look it up.

  For now, she needed to find food. This island wasn’t about Pizza Hut or McDonald’s. It was all quaint places to meet and eat organically grown foods. The mainland could keep the commercialism and fast food chains. Remembering the small grocery store she passed on the way from the dock, she thought about going back out. She mulled it over long enough that she fell asleep on the couch.

  Chapter Four

  “You really should be nicer to her, you know.” Susan cracked her window open slightly and fresh air rushed in.

  “Susan, I want her outta here like we got Caroline out. The less people around the better. We don’t need a nosy busy body with a fresh set of eyes in this place and you know it. No, if I make it very uncomfortable for her she’s bound to leave.”

  “He sees things differently. Aren’t you afraid he’s gonna find out you’re trying to give her the boot behind his back?”

  “We have a difference of opinion right now. We’re not seeing eye-to-eye on the future and what our next steps ought to be, but he’ll come around.”

  “And what if he doesn’t? You could find yourself in a heap of trouble for meddling in his affairs. He has plans for this one, Nancy. She’s different than the others. You do anything to mess that up and he finds out, you’re dead meat and meeting Satan personally.”

  “Well, that won’t happen, now will it? Not if you keep your big mouth shut about it.”

  “I told you a million times I won’t say a word. But don’t you think we’re starting to draw attention to ourselves? I mean Camille is the third librarian they’ve shipped over. Can’t you tell them we’re fine with just the two of us?”

  “That’s not how it works. Certain size libraries get a certain amount of librarians. No, we’ll just have to beat the system. We need to make her so unwanted and uncomfortable that she leaves by week’s end. Can you handle that? Because all I’ve seen you be is nice.” She reached out and seized the older woman’s arm. “Nice doesn’t get her to leave, Susan. Mean and obnoxious and ruthless does. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Nancy released the hold she’d had on Susan’s frail arm and returned it to the steering wheel as she pulled up to the curb by their house. “Good, go inside and think up all the mean things you can say and do tomorrow to make her day utterly miserable. Channel the bitch I know is inside you. I’ll see you when I get back. I have some errands to run. Ha! Already I have some wicked things in mind for her.” She smacked her hands together and smirked.

  ***

  Some point during the night, Camille woke and dragged her weary body up to her bedroom. Just before crashing again, she’d set her alarm and now regretted that decision. Its obnoxious beeping earned it a toss across the room. She didn’t have to be at the library until 1 pm, but wanted to get herself set up before leaving for work. At the moment, though, her stomach ached from hunger. First on her agenda this morning, shop for groceries! Shuffling to the bathroom, she made a mental to-do list.

  Buy food and necessities. Eat, dust, vacuum, wash the dishes and cups, and read. She couldn’t go a day without reading something. With last night’s encounter still fresh in her mind, non-fiction paranormal took hold of her heart again. It irritated her this morning that she freaked out. How many people could say they’d interacted with a couple of ghosts? Not too many, she was sure. Instead of running out, she should have stayed and interacted with them more. The things I could have possibly learned from them.

  Showered and changed, she sprinted out the door and headed straight for the store. It took all of five minutes to walk there. She’d wind up in the best shape ever from all the walking she’d be doing while on the island.

  Never had shopping been such a pleasure. It could have been her hunger talking, but they had everything she needed and it all looked scrumptious. Before she knew it, her cart was filled.

  “Would you like help out to your car?”

  Her fantastic shopping trip just went down the toilet. She thought briefly to drive her car to the island, but something about keeping it in her driveway at home solidified in her mind that this transfer would be temporary. And when she found out how close everything was to each other, it seemed silly to bring her car only to drive a minute down the road. However, she didn’t anticipate the shopping. How would she get her groceries back to the house? Call a cab? Possibly, but that would be silly as she lived just down the street. Maybe, they would let her wheel the cart home if she promised to give it back.

  “Um, actually, I don’t have a car. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I should do. Do you think maybe I can walk the cart to my house and return it? I only live down the street a bit. A five minute walk.”

  The cashier gave her a strange look, as though people didn’t ask that question all the time. She didn’t think it ridiculous at all to borrow the cart for a short walk home.

  “I’ll have to ask my manager. I’ll be right back.” As she walked over to Customer Service, Camille leaned against the stack of bottled water and stared at her forlorn cart of groceries. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave here without you.”

  “Are you talking to your food?” Derek asked as he ambled over to her with a few bags in his hands.

  “You know what they say about people who talk to their food, don’t you?” She walked over to her cart and pulled out a box of Goldfish from one of her bags.

  “No, what?”

  She tore into the box and shoved a handful of crackers into her mouth. “They’re hungry.”

  Derek chuckled. “Good one. Are you waiting for someone or are you just exhausted from the shopping workout you’ve had? Geez, I don’t think I’ve seen a cart so loaded since I lived with my parents.”

  “Are you calling me a pig, Derek?” She stared him down with a look she’d patented years ago. The look that said, “Gimme your best shot. I’ll still win.”

  His eyes widened and he waved her off. “No! No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought that’s a lot of food for one person and….”

  She rested a hand on her hip. “So you’re calling me a hoarder now?” His face, as pale as it had been, turned even whiter.

  “Oh, God! This conversation has gotten way out of control. I’m sorry. I….” She couldn’t hold her laughter in any longer.

  “I’m busting your chops, Derek. Relax.”

  He hung his head and then looked up at her with a sparkling gaze and a dimpled grin.

  “Nice, Camille. Real nice.”

  “Hey, when you got it, you got it.”

  “And you got it all right.” They laughed together, and she completely forgot why she had been standing amongst the cases of water.

  The cashier returned to refresh her memory. “I’m sorry, but store policy is the carts have to stay here.” She didn’t wait for Camille’s response, but instead, returned to her register.

  “That bites.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to come up with another solution.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I left my car on the mainland, thinking I wouldn’t need it for anything. Well, here’s ‘anything’, and I need it. How am I going to get these groceries home? A cab is just silly. I only live down the road a bit.” She took another handful of crackers before she fainted from hunger.

  “I got my car right outside.” He jiggled his keys in the air. “I’ll take you and your groceries home.”

  “You would do that for me? But you barely know me.”

  “
Your name’s Camille. You’re a librarian who loves having a stocked kitchen. I can tell that if you don’t eat something substantial soon you’re gonna keel over. Come on. No more talk. Let’s get you home and fed.”

  “Thank you. You’re very kind. Probably the kindest person I know.” She smiled, and if her belly could smile, she knew it would have, as well.

  In no time at all, he wheeled the cart out of the store, loaded all the bags into his bright orange Chevy SS, and drove them back to her house. He amazed her at every turn. The man even took the bags into her house. His parents had taught him well.

  As she put the groceries away, she had a brilliant idea. “Can I offer you a freshly made lunch for your efforts?”

  “That would be great. I could use something right about now.”

  “Super. I’m ravenous, so the quickest thing to make is peanut butter and jelly. You okay with that?”

  “More than okay. I love PB and J. Throw me the bread and I’ll make it for us.”

  Wondering what she’d done to deserve the star treatment, Camille observed as Derek slathered one piece of bread with a heaping of peanut butter, and spread the jelly on the other slice. Her mouth watered. She learned immediately that care and precision were not his strong suits in the kitchen.

  “Do you cook a lot at home?” she asked, fighting against her instinct to stay aloof.

  “Not really.” He handed her a thick sandwich oozing with the delectable spreads. “It’s hard to when I’m out investigating. But while I’m here on the island, it might be easier. Now, PB and J doesn’t qualify as cooking, but it’s all I got in me. I hope you like it. If not, feel free to reassemble.” He fixed another one for himself.

  ***

  Derek watched Camille plunk down at the kitchen table, moaning and groaning over the most meager of meals as though it were lobster dripping in butter. He shook his head and sat down across from her. He thought he’d wrecked everything earlier at the store. Pieces of his foot were still being extracted from his mouth. Her humor delighted him. He may not have caught on to her jibing, but he’d be ready for it the next time.

  “So what are you investigating? You said you were doing ‘important work.’” She licked at the gooey mixture as it oozed out the sides.

  “Ooh, I kinda wish you hadn’t remembered that pompous remark. Sorry about that. Sometimes my words sound right in my head but wind up making me look like a horse’s ass.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m socially awkward and have an intense dislike of people. And why I just said that, I have no idea. See, there I go, being socially awkward.” She closed her eyes, dropped her head in her hands, and sighed. He patted her arm.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I assume, and happily so, that I’m not one of those who you intensely dislike since we’re breaking bread together. So you’d like to know what I’ve been doing, eh?”

  “Yes! I would love to know what has you focused for so many hours.”

  “Well, recently, a child’s gone missing from the island. The leads are cold except for one. I’ve discovered that a satanic cult, The Mission, used to operate on this island a long time ago. Supposedly, they were shut down about forty years ago, but who really knows. Other children who lived here have vanished. From what my research is telling me, there’s a pattern. Every six years a child goes missing. The first case dates back thirty six years.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s horrible. Have any of the children been found?”

  “Nope, and the police are no closer to finding out what’s happened now than they were all those years ago. I’m convinced the cult is alive and active. I believe the kids have been kidnapped, trafficked, or sacrificed in some satanic ritual. I don’t know, but I’m convinced they’ve been used somehow by this cult. That’s why I’m on the island. I’m here to find out for certain. I need to discover where they used to conduct their meetings. I’ll be interviewing families and stuck in your library for a while, pouring over newspapers and anything that helps me figure this out before the current child, Zachary Michaels, disappears forever.”

  “I’ll help any way I can at the library. But there may be a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve come across a mystery of my own. It involves the library censoring information about a murder/suicide that took place in the basement there many, many years ago. Documentation can be found on the internet, but not in this library. Who’s to say if the library has everything you’ll need?”

  “Fascinating and disturbing. I guess they figured it would be bad publicity to keep information on it. But news is news and that’s censorship all right. Wow! Wonder what else, if anything, has been going on down in that basement.”

  “I’m wondering if I should tell you the rest of it.” She squinted at him as though sizing him up, evaluating whether or not he could tolerate hearing what she had to say.

  “Well, you wondering out loud is teasing my curiosity, so out with it already. I think I have a pretty open mind.”

  She lowered her voice. “There are spirits in my department.” She paused and waited, he supposed, for him to react. But he really had no reaction as of yet.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “One I think is malevolent and the other seems sweet and helpful. I believe them to be the couple involved in the murder/suicide all those years ago. And now, I’m sure you think I’m absolutely off my rocker.” She stood and walked toward the front door. “It was nice talking with you but I’m used to this routine. Thanks for the lift. Don’t forget your bags. I’ll see you at the library.” She opened the front door with a defeated look on her face.

  “Whoa, hold on.” He chased after her and gently closed the door. “First of all, don’t speak for me. I do a pretty good job of it all by myself, minus the semi-frequent hiccups. Secondly, what makes you think I don’t believe you? I’ve read and seen enough to know there’s something beyond this earthbound world. There are paranormal events that can’t be explained so easily. So if you say there are spirits, there are spirits. I’d love to meet them. Hopefully they’ll come out to play while I’m there.”

  She threw him a skeptical glance. “I’m impressed. I didn’t take you for an open-minded kinda guy. My apologies.” She sat back down at the table and grabbed a bag of chips. He followed.

  “Accepted. You see, I’m a foster kid who grew up in a loving household of hippies. They told me to be open to everything, but also to question everything.” He downed a handful of chips in a matter of seconds.

  “No wonder you’re a reporter. You’ve had that instinct ingrained in you.”

  “And you,” he said. “Why do you do what you do?”

  “Well, I failed at serving up food, so I tried serving up books instead. It suits me much better since I love to read. I love meeting the characters. It’s only real people I can’t stand.” She twisted off the cap of a Jones soda and took a swig. The way her lips pursed around the neck spoke volumes to his groin and he fidgeted in his seat. There was something about this woman that gripped him. He couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but he decided to make it a priority on his list of things to do.

  “You make it sound like what you do is a no-brainer. I’m sure there’s a lot more to it than handing a person a book and putting them back on the shelves.”

  “Of course, there’s cataloging and purchasing. I need to be a jack of all trades. I need to know a little about a lot. But mostly, on a daily basis, I’m serving up books to patrons and collecting them back when they’re done with them. I’m a book waitress, Derek. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Knowing a little about a lot can be a very useful tool. In fact, I bet it comes in very handy.”

  “I do have a strange ability to remember everything I see on a page. It’s been rather useful on occasion, if I’m to be honest. Holy crap! Look at the time.” She leapt from her chair and ran out of the kitchen. He heard what could only be described as an elephant stampede, and guessed she’d raced
upstairs.

  “I’ve gotta get ready for work!” she shouted from afar.

  “Why don’t I drive you there?” he called after her. “It would shorten your commute by a couple minutes and give us a chance to talk more.” He wandered into the living room, meandered around, inspecting all the knickknacks that lay about. He looked at himself in an old mirror and puckered his face. He’d forgotten to slick back his unruly hair this morning. Raking fingers through his mess of waves, he did his best to make himself look a little less disheveled.

  A few moments later, the elephants descended upon the living room. Camille shuffled over to him. “Sounds like a plan, Stan. Thanks.”

  “All set?”

  “Not yet. Can’t find my hairpin. It flew out as I ran upstairs. I may just have to wear it in a ponytail today. Hopefully Nancy won’t be angry. Something tells me I won’t like her when she’s angry.”

  “How very Hulk-ish of you to say so.”

  “Yeah, well, comic books are reading, too. Ah, there it is!” She scooted over to the bottom step and picked up the rogue pin.

  He put his hands up in surrender. “You’ll get no argument from me. Funny, I didn’t take you for a comic fan.”

  “We’re surprising each other it seems today.” She laughed lightly.

  She twisted her long golden ringlets into a severe rope and secured it closely to her head. Maybe she’ll let me unpin it someday soon. Shame all that hair has to be hidden away.

  “Shame….” he murmured.

  “What’s a shame?”

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing.” Deflect! Deflect! “Are you ready to go?”

  “Let me grab an apple and the chips. You might as well go start the car.”

  “Got it.” As he lumbered out the front door, he allowed pure mortification to wash over him. He had it bad for her, and his fantasy of what he’d like to do with her had almost been revealed. How stupid could a man be? Sliding into his seat, it finally dawned on him what attracted him so to her. Besides having the sexiest hair he’d ever seen, she had a quirky personality that he admired. Her humor warped as much as his. One day soon, he’d get up the nerve to ask her on a date.