Chapter1
“Just burn them if you have to.” Kenzie waved a hand toward one of the tall bookshelves filling all but one wall in the library room. The walnut shelves literally bulged with books collected over a lifetime. Several lifetimes, to be fair. “Just let them go, Mom. Be free of all these dusty, old books. Seriously, it’s probably unhealthy to breathe the stale, musty air in here.”
“I happen to like the smell of old books,” Riva protested.
“But these books are like an anchor around your neck. This whole house is too much for you. Using the books as your excuse to stay is ridiculous.”
“It’s not an excuse.” Riva looked up at the familiar shelves. The books were like friends. How do you get rid of friends? “What would I do with the books?” she asked, more to herself than to her impetuous daughter.
“Just imagine the huge bonfire you could have with them. You could invite the neighbors, roast hot dogs.” Kenzie laughed like this was funny.
But Riva stared in horror. “B-burn books?” she stammered. “You can’t be serious.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that’s pretty drastic. But there must be someway to get rid of them.” Kenzie walked along one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that had been added to the library about ten years ago—designed to match the fine craftsmanship of the original shelves that had been built more than a century ago. Kenzie shook her head with an expression a detective might wear when investigating a crime scene.
Riva watched her daughter trail an accusing finger along the spines of books, as if the innocent titles were somehow responsible for her dilemma. At one time the legions of books had been neatly arranged by genre. But over the years, especially after Riva and Paul had retired, the shelves grew so crowded they’d resorted to stacking more recently acquired titles horizontally in an effort to utilize every inch. And paperbacks were double stacked.
Kenzie turned abruptly toward her mom. “How on earth did you manage to amass so many in the first place? I don’t remember all the walls having shelves or being so packed in when I lived at home. Didn’t you used to regularly donate boxes of old books to the library? What became of all that?”
“I suppose that’s where it started. I donated your grandpa’s old law books, ones I knew I’d never read. And that got me interested in volunteering for the Friends of the Library and helping with the annual book sales.” She smiled sheepishly. “But I’d always come home with more books than I brought. Eventually I ran out of books I wanted to get rid of but kept bringing home books from the fundraiser.” Riva shrugged. “And then there were garage sales. We found some marvelous first editions.” She pulled out a Clancy hardback that Paul had been particularly proud of.
“And Dad probably didn’t help much.” Kenzie paused by the section that held her father’s collections of westerns, war stories, historicals, biographies, and such. “Surely, you can let some of these go now ... you know, since Dad’s gone.” She sighed. “He wouldn’t want to see you trapped here by all these books. He’d want you to let go and move on.”
“Let go ... move on...” Riva frowned. By burning books? Byliquidating his collection? Did Kenzie really think it was that simple? Like Paul’s beloved Louis L’Amour titles, many he’d owned even before they met forty years ago. For some unexplainable reason it always brought her comfort to see the row of them up there. Like Paul was still in this room with her, leaned back in his worn leather chair, feet propped on the ottoman, reading glasses halfway down his handsome straight nose, happily lost in a new historical.
Riva removed a large book they’d purchased on a vacation in Mexico. She opened it, admiring the glossy photos of arts and crafts created in Oaxaca. “Oh my. I’ve never even looked inside this book before. It’s beautiful.” She held it up for Kenzie to see. “And you think I’d want to burn this?”
“Then give it away. Or have your own book sale. Just shake these things loose from you. Be free.”
Riva set the book on top of her to-be-read stack, promising herself to look more closely at it later. “Oh, Kenzie, you are well aware of how most people don’t want real books anymore. All my friends seem to have gotten rid of their collections. Either they don’t have time to read or they only read electronic books or listen to audiobooks. Even the Friends of the Library have nearly given up on their yearly book sale. Maybe you should talk to them about book burning.”
Riva forced an impish smile for her impetuous daughter. Naturally, it was easy to be impatient when you were thirty and just embarking on an exciting new career in an exciting new place. Everything was dispensable, and minimalism was the order of the day. And perhaps that made sense if you were on the move a lot. But it just didn’t sit well with Riva. And now she wished she’d never complained about her oversized house and how difficult it would be to downsize, even blaming her resistance on the books of all things. She must sound like a foolish old woman to her hipster daughter. “Honey, I understand you wanting to encourage me to move on. I get it. I just don’t think I’m ready yet.”
“But the cost of keeping this big old house ... it makes no sense, Mom. It’s like these books are holding you hostage. Like this library has become your jail.” Kenzie checked something on her phone as she continued her lecture. “I thought it would help with me coming here to clear out the last of my stuff. That having the upstairs bedrooms and attic cleared out would motivate you to get serious about moving. That’s why I put in all this effort.”
“And I appreciate that, honey. I never dreamed you would work so hard on it.”
“I just wanted to make this easier for you. You’re getting older, Mom. You need to take it easy.” She patted Riva’s shoulder in a way that suggested she was on her last leg.
“I’m only sixty-one. That’s not so old. And I take good care of myself.” Indignation rose up inside of her, making her stand up straighter ... stronger. She could probably still beat her daughter at tennis.
“I know you’re doing great now. But you aren’t getting any younger. Why not get out of here while you have the strength and energy to move on your own. And, really, those new senior condos on the edge of town look pretty good. I heard they even transition into assisted living if you need it. Think about it—zero maintenance ... all the free time you’d have. And the new friends you could make. We could get you into a nice two-bedroom, and I could still come visit you.”
Riva felt her nose turning up. “I’d never want to live there. Honestly, it seems like an end of the line kind of place, where people go to die.” She didn’t care to admit she’d noticed old folks wandering or just sitting on the grounds of that new development. Some with walkers, some with wheelchairs, all moving slowly and aimlessly. And maybe she was delusional, but she just didn’t feel that old. Not yet. “I do appreciate you clearing those upstairs rooms out so efficiently.” It was her turn to pat Kenzie on the shoulder. “Setting a fine example for me on how easily you got rid of those things.”
Kenzie laughed. “Well, what did we need any of that junk for?”
“Sentimental value?”
Kenzie held up her phone. “I took pics of anything that felt a little special. I’ll have them right here if I need them.”
“Right.” Riva wasn’t so sure, but it was too late to make a fuss.
Kenzie brightened. “You could do that with your books. Take pictures of all of them. Then let them go.”
“Yes, that’s an interesting idea.” Riva knew she wouldn’t do that as she looked up at the clock hanging above the library’s French doors. “Good grief—it’s nearly one! I should get you to the airport.”
“No need. Samantha’s picking me up. We’re gonna grab a bite at the airport and catch up on old times.” Kenzie’s phone chimed. “In fact, that’s her now. She’s probably in the driveway.” She hugged her mom goodbye, and just like that was gone.
