Chapter 1 #2
Mrs. Gulliver nodded in approval before tottering down the street again. She was nearly eighty. Wasn’t it too early for her to be up and about? Didn’t she need her rest?
Greyson dropped his head back against the headrest with a low chuckle. “Almost four years, and she’s still thwarting my romantic overtures.”
I twisted my wedding ring and unabashedly studied Greyson’s profile as he laughed.
He didn’t do it often, especially in this carefree manner.
Strong jaw and nose. Tousled sandy-brown hair, somewhere between blond and brunet depending on the lighting.
Perpetual light scruff. Hypnotic ocean-blue eyes.
A faint scar slashing through his right eyebrow from a roughhousing accident with his brothers growing up.
Broad shoulders that didn’t mind shouldering the weight.
I’d married a good man. A handsome one, too.
“Pais, if you plan on working today, you should probably hop out now,” Greyson said, smirking wryly when he caught me ogling the taut muscles in his neck. “Before Gulliver comes back and really has grounds to slap us with a public-indecency fine.”
I rolled my eyes, tucking away the catalog of my husband’s fine features for later. “We would never.”
Greyson hopped out and jogged around the front to open my door. But before I stepped out, he glanced up and down the street before ducking down and cupping the back of my neck to draw me in for one last kiss. “Says who?”
I laughed and slid out, wrapping my arms around him. “Have a good morning. We’re still on for lunch?”
“Yeah, and I’ll pick you up after work. You finish at 4:30?”
I nodded, glancing up at him. “But I have to finish painting the library’s windows, so don’t rush.
” In addition to my librarian status, I had a side job of painting seasonal window murals for all the downtown businesses, and the library’s were the last ones on my summer list, thank goodness.
I was getting tired of perching on ladders.
“Pretty sure I’ll be rushing anyway since this town seems intent on chaperoning me and my wife.” Greyson kissed my forehead and with a last squeeze released me. “That might be the breaking point for me accepting Keegan’s offer.”
More laughter bubbled out of me. “So you say. Oh!” I whirled back to him. “I still need to grab a few things before the girls and I leave for the hot springs tomorrow.”
Greyson smiled at me. “I remember. Don’t worry about it. We’ll swing by on the way home.”
“My hero.” I slowly started walking backwards towards the front door and blew him a kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I waved, and he honked in farewell before driving away.
Shifting the satchel on my shoulder, I faced the library.
Serenity Springs Public Library was quaint with its tan brick facade covered with swaths of ivy and broad windows under a small green-and-white-striped awning.
Flower boxes under the windows bloomed in a rainbow assortment of colours, each more vivid than the last. The poster on the front door—courtesy of Ethan, my younger Gen Z coworker—always made me laugh.
PLEASE DO NOT LET JERRY INSIDE.
WE DO NOT WANT JERRY IN THE LIbrARY.
JERRY’S OWNERS DO NOT WANT JERRY
IN THE LIbrARY.
JERRY WANTS TO BE IN THE LIbrARY.
DO NOT LISTEN TO JERRY. THANK YOU.
Jerry was the Gullivers’ Maine coon cat, who roamed downtown like it was his own personal Serengeti and he was king of the jungle.
He had a habit of bribing (read: tricking) patrons into letting him into the air-conditioned splendor of the library.
We kept a dish outside the building for pets because Serenity Springs got warm in the summer, and we weren’t heartless, but still—no cats in the library.
What a concept. Someone call Dr. Seuss.
Honestly, Jerry should be the one getting Mrs. Gulliver’s tickets (you know, for unwanted breaking and entering) instead of honest Serenity Springs bystanders. Oh well.
But Jerry was easier to handle than the squirrel that had been crawling through the book return slot last spring to steal our head librarian’s lunches.
It got so bad, people had to call through the slot when they returned a book to announce that they were not in fact the squirrel.
Eventually, animal patrol got involved, and the squirrel was relocated. Never a dull moment around here.
I flung the door open. “Good morning, Flo!” I smiled at the head librarian behind the desk.
Flo glanced between me and the clock, then grunted. Like I’d ruined her morning simply by not being late and giving her an opportunity to lecture me. Poor Florence. She really needed better hobbies.
Because even with that special goodbye, I was three minutes early. Greyson was nothing if not efficient.
One day, I would crack my boss’s prickly facade and get her to smile at me. Or at least not grunt her greetings in monosyllables. But after six years of working here, I still hadn’t managed it.
“Up high, Ms. Pais!” Ethan, our seventeen-year-old intern, strolled around the corner, pushing a book cart and lifted his hand for a high five. “Did you see Jerry?” he added after I tapped his hand.
I snorted. “No, but I saw his owner.”
Flo harrumphed, and Ethan made a face. “Guess your day can only get better from here then, huh?”
I laughed, tugging my cardigan more securely around me, and stepped around the counter.
Flo and Ethan’s easy bickering floated in the background, and I paused for a minute to breathe in the smell of ink and paper, stories and legends.
They settled my soul with a warm caress. It was going to be a good day.