The Velveteen Rabbit,Charlotte’s Web, and evenLemony Snicket’swere on the reading list—all books she read to us. Some nights, I even snuck in some raunchy romance books just to hear her laughter, though we both loved them.
At the end of the day, it wasn’t about what book we read, but the time we spent together. When Gram died, my love for reading slipped.
Until now.
I graze my fingertips along the shelves to the pile of laundry in the center of the room. I found bean bags, pillows, blankets, and little chairs to clean. There isn’t a single washer and dryer here, but something tells me Saffron won’t mind.
This room shouldn’t sit in a layer of dust. It should be filled with the laughter of children as their imaginations run wild.
My time here may slip through my fingers, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make every moment count. I will breathe life back into this library, even if it’s for someone else to keep alive.
“Mom?” Lark’s voice pulls me out of my musings as I imagine kids rushing about with little thought bubbles above their heads.
“Yeah?” I might sniffle a little bit, and Lark doesn’t miss it, not at all.
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Awe fills my voice, and I don’t even try to swallow it back. “All the books are here. Someone kept them stocked through the years. I even found boxes and boxes of new books, some published only months ago.”
Her knowing smile lights up her face, and luckily, she doesn’t have time to respond before Ms. Aberdeen cuts in.
Really, where the heck did she come from?
“That would be Arthur,” she says wistfully, stepping from behind a rack that I just walked out of. Was she following me? Watching me? How did I not know?
More importantly, why did she do that?
“Who is Arthur?” Lark questions, and I know she’s still mentally placing everyone in this town. Her penchant for memorization astounds me.
“Oh, my son.” She smiles, her glasses slipping down her nose a little before she pushes them back up. “He is the CEO of a big publishing house in New York.” She presses a wrinkled hand to her chest, her smile full of parental pride.
“He donates all of this?” My arms flap and my hands slap against my thighs for emphasis.
“Well, who else?” She sighs once more, but those intelligent eyes of hers scan each shelf. “You’ve been busy today, Wren.”
For a moment, embarrassment floods me. Did I go too far? She wasn’t around, and I kind of just took over. Passion filled me for the first time in years, as happy memories reminded me of why I love books. “Did I?—”
“Oh hush, child. You did well. I wanted to see what you’d do. Arthur is pleased. He won’t be here until Christmas, but he loved all the pictures I sent him.” She waves a shiny new phone in her hand, which I bet she uses to watchJersey Shorereruns.
“Let me get this straight.” I cock out a hip. “You purposely didn’t meet me just to see what I’d do?”
“Of course. Arthur wanted to know if I made the right choice. I knew I did. But he needed convincing to pay you.” She rolls her eyes before giving me that look, the one that screamsI’m a mom. “You know how it is with children, always thinking they know better than you. They don’t.” At that, she looks at Lark.
Usually, she’d argue that point, but she buried her nose in a book and can’t even hear us.
“She will need a library card for that. Come on, Lark.” Ms. Aberdeen moves to the front desk faster than I ever gave her credit for. I’m thinking she’s not as insane as people assume she is, but perhaps just calculating—which is even worse.
As she gets Lark a library card, I bundle all the pillows into two bean bags to take home to wash. I already regret the decision as I push them into the lobby.
“Your ride is here.”
“What?” I sputter at the sneaky woman, who points out the door to a truck idling at the curb. “You called Arlo?”
“It’s Monday. He always has dinner with his mom and sister on Monday, while the others flock to the bar for ladies’ night.” Ms. Aberdeen cocks her head to watch as Arlo climbs the steps, and I swear she licks her lips at him.
“Come on, Lark.” I’m still eyeing the little woman as Arlo opens the doors.
“Need help with those?” He doesn’t even wait for me to answer before he grabs both and heads back to the truck with Lark on his heels.
