Love In The Stacks – by Stephanie Marie Whitson #2
"As much as it pains me as the head librarian to say this, perhaps if you read less you could find time to date," Gladys pointed out.
"Have you been talking to Sheila?" I asked and handed her my library card.
"I did run into her the other day, but she declined to participate, claiming she has a boyfriend," she said.
"I haven't met him yet, but she seems happy enough, I guess," I said.
"Speaking of boyfriends..." Gladys slid across a pink form.
"You won't take ‘no’ for an answer, will you?" I already knew the answer as I picked up the pen she offered.
"I think you need to fill your time with something other than books and work, and yes, I am aware we are in a library," she said.
"So, just my name, favorite genre and that's it?" I asked, sliding the form back toward her.
"Yep. That’s it. Let me do my magic and all you need to do is show up Saturday for your blind date," she said and placed the form into a bright pink file folder.
"What a minute? This Saturday? Why so soon? And why aren’t you waiting until it is closer to the holiday?" I plastered her with questions.
"This way there’s less pressure for the blind date if it’s not on the actual holiday. Besides, I already know you don’t have plans this Saturday," she said.
"Gladys, you know very well I have to work Saturdays," I pointed out.
"Not this Saturday."
"And how exactly could you know that?" I asked, mimicking her stance and giving her my best glare.
"Lips are sealed. Morning, Sheila."
"And what are you doing here?" I asked my sister, spinning around on my heel to face her.
"What? Can't I come into the library to check what's taking you so long?" she asked, the face of fake innocence.
"I see what's going on here. You two are conspiring against me."
"There is no conspiracy, sweetie," Gladys said.. "I checked with your sister to make sure you would be able to attend the event, but that's all I am guilty of."
"Besides, I think it sounds like a fun event for you, since I am currently seeing someone," Sheila added.
"Fine. Fine," I said, waving my hands in a mock surrender. "I will attend this event if only to get you to lay off the idea of me needing a boyfriend."
"Perfect." Sheila said with a grin.
"Don't go ringing wedding bells yet, dear sister. This town is small and the dating pool is even smaller. Now come on, we have a restaurant to open." I said and dragged her out of there before she started planning my wedding.
THE DAY ARRIVES
I looked around my extremely clean kitchen, admiring the sparkling linoleum, and ignoring the fact I only cleaned as a way to focus on something other than this ridiculous idea of a blind date.
I glanced at the time once again, and let out a low grumble.
Might as well get it over with. I finished my glass of lemon ice water, rinsing it out before adding to the barely filled dishwasher, one of the many perks of living alone.
There was nothing else to impede me from heading to my doom, or as my sister called it, my date with destiny.
It wasn't far to the library, and within minutes I found myself parking in nearly the same spot as when I somehow got talked into participating in this event.
I don't believe in destiny and I only agreed so you won't bug me about it.
That was the mantra I had going through my head as I walked up the walkway and entered the library.
"What the what?" I whispered in awe, mantra immediately forgotten.
I spun around, taking in the transformed library I no longer recognized as my escape from the world outside.
Each of the large study tables in the lobby were covered with red, white and pink flower petals.
In the midst of the flowers was a centerpiece with an electric candle and seashells surrounding it.
Looking up, I was flabbergasted at how someone, let alone sweet, old Gladys, had managed to hang white and pink colored lights from the ceiling.
To top it off, I could hear soft music playing over the intercom.
"What do you think?" Gladys asked.
"How did you accomplish this in such a short amount of time, and who did you bribe?" I asked.
"Trade secrets, my dear. Are you ready?"
"Explain how this all works to me again, please," I asked, stalling for time.
"You filled out the paperwork with your favorite genre and I used that information to match you with another person with similar tastes.
You wrote down that you prefer thrillers, so you will find your table adorned with valentine goodies, a book for the two of you to discover, along with the fancy placard designating the table for a thrilling loving couple. "
"Wow, you sure put a lot of thought into this event," I complimented her. "But what happens if more than two guys like the same genre as me?"
"In that case, I make them change their genre. Don't you worry, kiddo, I know what I am doing," she said.
"Don't you think I am a bit old to be called kiddo?"
"Not when you are at least a decade younger than me. Now, scoot. Find your table and wait for your date to arrive," she said, giving me a helpful push to start walking towards my doom.
I knew better than to keep our friendly, well-meaning librarian waiting any longer and resigned to get through this blind date. If I played my cards right and kept the conversation to a minimum, perhaps I could finish the new book I had picked up this week. Oh my goodness.
I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized by the set up in front of me.
The round table by the window, which was typically an ugly brown, was now covered in a large red tablecloth with matching red covers on the chairs.
In the middle of the table was a smaller white tablecloth, with a glass candle holder filled with seashells and sand.
A black metal sign holder, similar to what we use to label tables when we have our patio open, was sticking up with the word “thriller” on it.
I took a few steps to admire the lovely table, which has even more rose petals on it, along with a book wrapped in pink and red tissue paper.
I let out a quiet laugh as I read what was written across the front: “for you to discover together.”
"Hello."
I set the book down and turned to greet the voice, which I could only assume belonged to the person I was forced to meet..
"What are you doing here?" I stuttered.
"The same thing as you, I would think," Fred replied.
I watched in silence as he cautiously walked around the table and pulled out a chair. It took me a few moments to realize why he was standing there, and I immediately took a seat.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
“They really did a number on the library,” Fred said as he took his seat.
“Have you been here lately?” I asked.
“Not this week,” he said. “Why a thriller?”
“What? Oh, why did I pick thrillers as my favorite?” I asked. I raised my eyebrow at his nodding as a way to reply. This is going to be a long date.
“I do enjoy other genres, but there’s something about reading about crimes, hunting down bad guys and getting scared when the dead body isn’t really dead. What about you?”
“The chase.”
“Listen, Fred, I know you didn’t expect me to be your blind date of all people, but…. What is that on your hand! Are you married?” I asked, grabbing his hand to inspect the gold ring, which was tarnished with age.
“Why would I be here if I was married?” Fred asked.
“Some men do that, you know,” I said. I glanced from his beat-up gold band to his eyes. Is he going to cry?
"I have never taken it off," he said, gently removing his hand from mine only to hide it under the table.
"I'm sorry, Fred. I didn't mean to upset you, but you have to understand where I, a single lady, might get the wrong impression with your ring still on your hand. Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not right now, if that's okay with you."
"We do not know each other well enough yet for me to know that part of your story. For now, why don't we switch to something happier," I suggested.
"Such as?" he asked, sounding sadder by the minute.
"Such as what a wonderful job they did transforming the library for this blind date event. Speaking of which, want to share who goaded you into signing up?"
"Gladys."
"Ha! Of course it was her. Who else would know our tastes in books so well," I said, letting out a laugh.
"Let's see what book they left us," he said, picking up the book. "Oh, that's funny!"
Someone with the same sense of humor as me? Perhaps this wasn't the worst thing I had been talked into doing.
"What's that look for?" Fred asked.
"Appreciating your sense of humor, that is all," I said, letting myself finally relax.
"Do you want to open it?" he asked.
"You go ahead," I said.
I watched his hands, rough with age and the years at sea, open the tissue-wrapped book with such grace and agility it was though I was watching an intimate dance between a man and his most prized possession.
He gently laid the book on the table as he set aside the brightly colored tissue paper, only to take the book in his hand and offer it to me.
"Have you read this one before?" he asked.
I looked down at the selection and instantly let a smile dance across my face. "It's one of my favorites." I held my breath, waiting.
"Mine, too! I especially enjoyed the part where the new janitor boyfriend was there to protect her," he said, letting a smile appear.
"But what about the reason the janitor was there to protect her? Her kid's dad, who she thought had died, had sent him to keep an eye on things," I replied, pure happiness flowing through me as I found someone I could talk to about strange plotlines.
"I'm surprised," he said.
"About what?"
"Most ladies prefer romance novels," Fred said.
"I like romance just as much as the next lady, as you say, but thrillers and mysteries hold a special place in my heart. Always have," I said and crossed my arms, silently daring him to argue.
"Hey," Fred said and offered his hand to me. "There's nothing wrong with liking thrillers."
I remained with my arms crossed, studying his face and outreached hand and before deciding he was telling the truth. "I appreciate that, Fred." I took his hand, no longer hidden under the table, and gently swirled the ring around his finger.
"Were you happy?"
"Very."
"Do you think you can be again?" I asked, still holding his hand.
"I would like the opportunity to try." Fred gently squeezed my hand.
"That's all one can ask for, isn't it?"
"One day I will share my sad story of how I lost her, but let's not make it today," he said, barely a whisper.
"What do you suppose happens next?" I asked.
I watched as he brought my hand closer to his mouth, gently kissing my knuckles, one by one.
"Destiny, my dear. Pure destiny.”
Stephanie Marie Whitson is a hopeless romantic who likes to write characters finding love.
She enjoys writing small towns, mainly because she spent years living in a small coastal town.
Stephanie lived life on the road for several years before claiming Texas as her new home state.
When Stephanie isn't typing late into the night, we can find her with coffee in one hand, notebook in the other as she attempts to teach her children to appreciate math.