“I came by to see if a particular Dewey decimal number is linked to any of the books here at the library.”
“Certainly. What’s the number?”
Finley relayed it.
Fake nails tapped against the keyboard as Dakota typed the digits into her computer. “Yes! This call number belongs to a book entitledBrothers: Twenty-Five Stories About the Ties That Bind. It looks like a compilation of nonfiction stories.”
Hallelujah!“Excellent.” She’d never heard of that book, but it sounded like the kind of thing her father would have liked. He’d always enjoyed reading both fiction and nonfiction. “Where should we look for it?”
“I’ll show you.” Dakota was halfway out of her chair, her focus still on the computer screen, when her progress abruptly stopped. “Oh, wait.” She returned to her chair. “This book is still in ourcatalog, but it’s no longer available. There’s a note here that says that it was withdrawn.”
“Oh?” Finley’s exultation began to flatten. “What does it mean when a book is withdrawn?”
“It means that we decided to take it off the shelves and out of circulation.”
“Does it say how long ago it was taken off the shelves?”
“It was removed three years ago.”
Three years?The exultation flattened so much that it became a canyon. “What becomes of books that are withdrawn?”
“Our Friends of the Library group typically sells them in their annual sale.”
She tried to get a read on Luke. He looked like a poster child for the brooding leading man in a romantic movie. Scruff covered his granite cheeks. If he was experiencing disappointment, it didn’t show. His regard was level, steady. In fact, the only time he’d let his mask slip was during their kisses. At this moment, it was hard to believe that he’d revealed as much desire as he had.
She focused on Dakota. “I have reason to think that my father, who passed away in the fall, might have left something inside that book for me.”
“Oh dear. What do you think that might be?”
“I’m not sure. But it would mean a lot if I could get my hands on the book. Any ideas how I might be able to do that?”
Dakota pushed her lips to the side. “We send out a weekly e-newsletter to our patrons. There’s a News and Notes section at the bottom. We could add a note, asking people if they happen to have purchased that book at the sale. And, if so, to contact you.” She pointed toward the hall leading to the bathrooms. “We also have a community bulletin board. You’re welcome to pin a request for information there.”
“Thanks.”
Dakota picked up a pen and scribbled down information. “Here’s the book’s title and author. Here’s its ISBN number, publisher,and date of publication. It looks like it was first released fifteen years ago.” She lifted a binder from her desk drawer, flipped several pages, then began writing again. “Here’s a name, number, and email for the man who handles our weekly emails. And, just in case it’s useful...” She flipped several pages. “Here’s the name, number, and email of the president of our Friends of the Library group. It might be worth giving her a call. Who knows? It’s possible this book wasn’t purchased at the last few sales. In that case, I’m pretty sure they store the books that don’t sell and put them out again the next year.”
Finley accepted the piece of paper with thanks. After wishing Dakota and Loretta her very best, she and Luke returned to his truck.
He immediately turned the heater up and steered them toward Furry Tails. The cab of his truck had become something of a mobile treasure hunt headquarters.
“I’m going to start,” she said, “by calling the Friends of the Library president. If by some chance the book is still in their inventory, then there’ll be no need to post on the bulletin board or in the email newsletter.” With cold fingers, she typed in the phone number Dakota had given her.
When the president answered, Finley introduced herself.
“Finley! I know exactly who you are. I’m the owner of the Buttercup Boutique.”
Recognition slotted into place. This was why Finley loved living in a small town. Forget six degrees of separation. Approximately one and a half degrees of separation existed between Misty River’s residents. The owner of the Buttercup Boutique, a clothing store, was a fashionable woman in her late forties. She had several kids and fabulous hair. “Of course!”
“I’m crazy about reading, and so I said yes when they asked me to volunteer with Friends of the Library.”
“That’s so kind of you.” Finley explained that she was seekinga book that held special significance. “Dakota at the library suggested that you may store leftover books until the next sale.”
“That’s correct. We set up a booth at the Apple Festival every year and sell books. The community is very supportive, so we never have many books left. At the moment, I believe I have two cardboard boxes full. I stuck them in the storage room in the back of my shop, so feel free to come by anytime during business hours. I’ll take you back there and you can go through them.”
“Would it work for you if we headed in that direction now?”
“Sure! I’ll see you when you get here.”
