Lillian circled past periodically, her lips pressed together. Alice shushed the group each time she got close, hoping to stay on the assistant librarian’s good side.
“I can’t decide who was prideful and who was prejudiced.” Anthony Malcolm groaned and laid his head on the desk. “I have a page of notes on why Elizabeth is prideful and a page of notes of the same thing for Mr. Darcy.”
Alice chuckled. “Good—because they both are both.”
He popped up. “They are?”
She nodded encouragingly. “Yes, they are.”
“Sweet.” He started typing, his fingers flying.
“My, my, isn’t this a busy area.” Grandma Westbrook stopped by, a smile on her face. She held several contemporary romances and one mail-order bride book in her arms. The titles were familiar to Alice, who usually put a hold on new releases before they came in. “It’s good to see young people discussing quality literature.”
“We’re only doing it because we have to,” said Anthony, causing snickers from the rest of the group.
“They’re working on their English papers,” explained Alice.
Movement at the top of the stairs caught her eye. Alice checked her phone for the time and was shocked to see that several hours had passed—she hadn’t even noticed.The meeting must be over. Alice patted her hair to make sure all the pieces were still in place. Now that the Russ moment had arrived, she couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands.
“And you’re helping them?” Grandma asked, bringing Alice’s gaze back to the main level.
“She’s amazing,” Karleigh piped up.
Grandma smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth. Thank goodness for those genes, because Alice’s parents never would have paid for braces. “I’ve known that for years.” She patted Alice’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” added Anthony. “It almost makes sense when she explains it.”
Alice laughed. “Almost, huh?” She glanced at the staircase again and found it empty. Her shoulders sagged; Russ must have slipped by while she was talking.
Anthony shrugged and kept typing.
“I’m going to let you get back to work.”
“Are you here alone?” Alice craned her neck, looking for Aunt Michelle. The way Grandma had acted at the meeting had her worried.
“I am. The doc adjusted my meds, and I’m feeling great. I have some things to give you too. Will you stop by sometime and visit?”
“Of course.” So that was what the confusion was about. Good to know it wasn’t anything permanent.
Grandma bent and kissed the top of her head, like she had when Alice was little.
“Is this a real ghost?” Jared, another senior with a penchant for procrastination, shoved a worn copy ofWuthering Heightsin her direction.
Alice worked to move her head from worrying about Grandma back to Brontë. “Why do you ask?”
“This word. I think it means ghost.”
Smiling, Alice handed him a pocket dictionary. He grunted as he flipped through the pages to findspecter.
Satisfied that the group was taken care of for a minute, Alice made a quick circle of the room, hoping to bump into Russ. When she didn’t find him, her enthusiasm took a dramatic drop. So much effort on her hair and the new shirt for so little return. Maybe it was a sign.
Her mind flashed to that scene inSleepless in Seattlewhen Meg Ryan tries on her grandma’s wedding dress and the sleeve rips. “It’s a sign,” she says.
“You don’t believe in signs,” replies her mother.
“I don’t believe in signs,” repeated Alice. Except that she did. She just didn’t want to believe this one.
Chapter Twelve
