My red wrap dress swished around my knees as I moved around the tables in the library and admired the setup for the holiday decorations that some of our young library patrons were creating to take home that afternoon. The Christmas trees were next level, and I loved it anytime the library was filled with the artwork of the children who visited.
“Grace.” Gabby waved to me from the circulation desk, so I headed in her direction.
“Yeah, Gabs?” I asked, running a hand down the back of Gabby’s cat, Aslan, who was swishing her tail as she strutted over the table with a very vocal greeting.
“Ben’s mom was by earlier. She wanted to thank you for the Hanukkah focus in the library at the start of December.”
“Not necessary,” I said, my brain running through a mental list of the things we needed to do still for our open house this afternoon.
“I told her you’d say that. She wanted me to remind you that as a member of one of the only Jewish families in town, she’s very grateful that both our library and schools have been so inclusive without even having to be asked.”
“I’m glad they feel welcome, but it seems like the least we could do,” I pointed out. We highlighted books written by Jewish authors, had a few dreidel art projects, sang some songs during story time. Bare minimum, and I strived to do more in the future. But we worked to be inclusive of all holidays, so of course we weren’t going to leave Hanukkah out.
Gabby shrugged and then picked up Aslan off the table to plop her down on the floor. “At any rate, how can I help, boss? Anything you need to get ready?”
I ran over what we had left for our afternoon celebration, giving Tim and Emma jobs as they appeared. Our volunteer Santa Claus, Scott, was set up in the children’s-book room near the fireplace in an armchair, ready for pictures with kids. We had a sugar-cookie decorating station in the kitchen. Art stations were scattered among the tables in the fiction and nonfiction rooms. And story hour with some holiday books would be going on for the entire two hours—we were each taking shifts—in the foyer with the reader on the grand staircase and the kids gathered below on the floor in front of the circulation desk. Spiced cider was available for all, and we hoped parents would sit back and relax. It was such a busy season—we wanted to give them this moment of calm before the storm.
Three hours later, the four of us were collapsed in various states around the kitchen. Tim had glitter in his hair, which honestly wasn’t all that surprising. Gabby had paint on her shirt. Emma was wearing antlers on her head, but she might have had those on when she arrived. And my dress had held up, but I felt like a Mack truck had run me over at some point in the evening.
Tim spoke up from his prone location on the couch. “Please remind me to tell Eric that our cat and two pups are enough. Children are adorable, but that’s how they trick you, and the next thing you know, they’ve suckered you into a glitter art project when we all know glitter was created by Satan.”
“Here, here.” Gabby raised her arm in exhausted solidarity. “Aslan is it for me.”
Emma rubbed her belly with a sheepish expression. “It’s too late for me and Grace over here.”
“Suckers,” Tim muttered.
“True that,” Gabby said, reaching out to kick my foot to lighten the statement.
Tim shot me a look. One, I will note, that was reallynotfilled with remorse. “How pissed are you about the glitter, boss? I mean, in my defense, I thought it would be a sprinkle here and there, not full-blownglitter in the air.”
“Should we call you Pink?” Gabby asked with a raised brow.
“The woman is a beast. I’d love to be compared to her,” Tim said. “But as I was saying, the kid had a great argument about said glitter making the snow come alive in his painting. Who the hell knew kids couldn’t sprinkle?”
Gabby spoke up, frighteningly matching my thoughts. “Everyone, Tim.Everyoneknows kids make messes with glitter.”
“I’m sure we’ll get it all cleaned up,” he shot back.
“Not a chance.” Gabby shook her head at him. “We’re going to be finding glitter throughout this place until we all retire. Mark my words.”
“And you think you could leave this?” Emma gestured toward Gabby and Tim.
I immediately groaned. When Cheryl called the other day, Tim had known I’d been upset and that I had mentioned staying home, but he thought that conversation had been dropped. I hadn’t shared that I’d actually considered, albeit briefly, staying home because, well, everyone would know why in three… two… one…
“I’m sorry,what?” Thewhatwas screeched. I mean, it’s the only way to describe it.
“Calm down, Tim—” I started, hands up in a calming gesture.
“Don’t try to calm me down, missy. What does Emma mean, ‘leave this’? I thought that had been settled?”
I sighed. Never let it be said that Tim didn’t have feelings. Big feelings. I mean, on the positive side, it also meant I knew we all mattered to him a heck of a lot. It also meant that I loved his partner, Eric, for many things—including the fact that he kept Tim on an even keel.
“The woman I’d found for in-home daycare for Mia called yesterday. She’s moving to South Carolina—”
Tim interrupted because he is the most impatient man on earth. “I know that, Grace, but I thought we covered what a hot mess you were for the past three months.” His arms flailed like a Muppet. “No, Grace, just no. I’m so sorry. I know what a headache it was to find even that place.” Tim popped up from the couch and began pacing around the kitchen, circling the farm table in the middle, as his hands continued to fly about while he talked. “Okay, this is fine, we’re fine. Between the four of us, we know the whole town. Who can we call? There’s got to be something.” He came to a stop in front of me and leaned against the counter, hand on his hip, finger wagging in my face. “Because if you think you’re leaving this place, you have another thing coming. Youarethe Ryan Library. I mean, we’re no slouches”—he gestured back at Gabby and Emma—“and the rest of our crew, but you are the one that keeps this place going. You write the grants, do the paperwork that none of us knows how to do—”
“Or wants to do,” Emma piped up.
