Arnie shelved another book. “To give the Grinch a run for his money?”
Stella straightened a book on a nearby shelf, lining up its spine evenly with the ones on each side. “I’d totally beat him.”
Arnie chuckled. “Because if you’re anything, it’s heartless and cruel, especially to children.”
Arnie had a way of pulling out her smile even when she didn’t feel like ever smiling again. “Anyone been in yet?” she asked.
He shook his head, and they walked toward the circulation desk. A slow, quiet library day could often be excruciatingly boring, but a peaceful start to the morning was one of Stella’s favorite things. It felt like inhaling a deep breath or standing barefoot in a grassy meadow. Libraries in the mornings felt like endless possibilities, endless stories that could take a person anywhere. Stella grabbed the baggie of Froot Loops. “Did you finish all the morning tasks? Clear the book drop? Run the hold slips? Reboot the computers?”
“Are you testing me to see if I can still perform my duties efficiently?” He pointed toward a rickety cart that Stella thought had been built at the same time as the library—a millennium ago. The right back wheel lagged as though caught on bubble gum, and the left front wheel squeaked to high heaven. “As my minion, I’m going to command you to shelve the rest of those. You might want to oil that front wheel again. WD-40 is in the desk drawer.”
Stella caught sight of a flyer taped to the end of a bookshelf. BlueSky Valley’s annual festival was that weekend. “What about festival duties? Do you need me to call anyone or follow up on anything?”
Arnie shook his head. “All moving along like clockwork. The town’s committee is even more organized than last year. They’ll start setting up Friday, and I have our list of duties already, but no reason to worry about that right now. Do you have everything ready for the care packages and donations?”
Stella nodded. “We have an overflow already, and I suspect we’ll get even more donations during the festival.”
“Your dad would be proud,” Arnie said. “You’ve grown what he started. Every year it’s gotten bigger.” He glanced over his shoulder. “That reminds me. I have another box of book donations for you.”
She smiled, thinking about the program her dad started years ago. Being a navy veteran, he’d wanted to honor others in the military, so he’d started creating care packages for those actively serving. He used the festival every year as a big push to gather supplies and donations for the boxes. She’d taken over after his passing, and it had been her idea to add books to the care packages.
“Thank you for the extras.”
Arnie slid back the cuff of his blue shirtsleeve and checked his watch. The silver face was so large that even from a distance Stella could tell the time. “Margot should be here in half an hour. She’ll want to set up in the story time room before the kids start crowding in. I told her she could bring cookies again, but she’d have to keep an eye on little Brendan Brannigan. He likes to shove extras into his pockets.”
Stella’s lips twitched in one corner. “And his mama sure didn’t like sending those extra cookies through the wash.”
Arnie exhaled and rubbed his ear. “I got an earful.”
“Two earfuls.”
Arnie’s dark eyes searched her face, and his expression remindedStella of when she was young and her dad would lift her up in his arms as though she was a prize at the fair, smiling up at her with such pride and love.
“You sure you’re okay?” Arnie asked. “Work half a day, and if you’re not up for the afternoon, take off.” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder as he walked off. “I mean it, kiddo.”
She popped the last of the Froot Loops into her mouth. “Arnie, I’mfine.”
“That’s what women say when they’re anything but,” he said as he headed toward the main staircase leading to the second floor.
She walked over to the library cart. Its three shelves were loaded with children’s books—picture books, board books, read-alongs, easy readers, and chapter books—all needing to be returned to their homes on the main floor.
“Arnie, I wanted to ask you about—” Three glossy brochures sat on top of the children’s books. She picked them up and waved them in the air. “What are these?” she shouted loud enough for Arnie to hear.
She pinched the papers between her forefinger and thumb and held them away from her body the way someone might hold soiled towels. Serif words, blocky and bold, slipped out from between the pressed pages.Revive. New faces. Matriculation.
Arnie turned and looked at her. His smile lifted his cheeks. “Three great colleges with outstanding English programs. Two close by and one a thousand miles away in case you need a change of scenery.”
Exasperation throbbed in her head. “College? I have a master’s degree in accounting.”
Arnie stopped smiling. He closed the space between them, his shoes clicking against the polished tiles. Stella’s back straightened as she prepared for a lecture.
“You could still go back to school. Get a degree in something you actually enjoy,” he said.
“I don’t need a degree to be your assistant. Besides, I’m too old to go back to school.”
Arnie laughed. “You’re never too old to start something new. It would take you less than two years for another degree, even less time if you only want certifications. If you don’t want to go back to the university, that’s okay, but you need to consider a higher-paying job. You’re too smart to be someone’s assistant forever. Your father would want more for you, and so does Percy. I assume he’s said as much.”
Stella slapped the college brochures on the countertop. Arnie wasn’t the big baddie lording over her, but his questioning made her doubt her life choicesagain, and that peeved her. Why? Because she didn’t want to look deep enough to discover the heart of the issue. She knew Percy wanted more for her, and her dad would, too, if he were still alive. As if either of them truly knew what “more” was. How could they when Stella didn’t even know?
