Chapter 4 #2
looked anything but worn out and feeble, and he was the best-dressed man she knew. He was also the most intelligent.
He shelved an oversize copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology bound in navy-blue leather. “Morning, sunshine. How’s the concussion?” He cocked his head at her as if daring her to lie
about how she really felt.
Stella shrugged and avoided his steady gaze. “I’ve had worse days, but it hurts like the dickens.” She motioned toward the
back of her head.
“No permanent damage, I hope?”
She pushed her damp hair behind her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
“How’s the heart?” he asked, his voice gentle and wrapped in kindness.
So much for avoiding conversations that rekindled the sadness. Arnie’s concern was sincere and valid. Her heart had taken
more of a beating than the cracking she’d given her skull. “Still there, but wishing it was shriveled and charred and lifeless.”
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. Blue Sky 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 reminded Stella 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’m fine.”
“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 choices again, 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?
“If you need me, I’ll be putting away books.” She pointed to the brochures. “You can add those to the ashes in the furnace.”
She skipped the grease needed to ease the cart’s front wheel and squeaked and shoved her way toward the children’s section.
She heard Percy’s voice in her head: Just the two of us against the world. Stella and Percy had no family left except an aunt living in Rhode Island. She didn’t count their mother, who had been nonexistent
in their lives for more than twenty years. Stella didn’t even know if the woman was still alive. Percy had always looked out
for her and was grateful he didn’t have to shoulder the burden of sorting through their dad’s final arrangements alone, but
he certainly hadn’t wanted Stella to quit her accounting job in Memphis and move back to Blue Sky Valley.
Aside from telling her she needed to Get a better job or return to accounting, Percy had also been nagging her to sell the family home they’d both inherited, but Stella refused.
When Percy pressed her for a reason, she’d said, It’s our home.
He’d corrected her: It was our home, and just because a thing once was something doesn’t mean it always has to be. We can change our minds, start
over, try something new.
Starting over and trying something new was easy for Percy. He had a temperament built for adventure and taking life just as
it was. Percy knows how to hold up his hands on a roller coaster and enjoy it, their dad used to say.
And what about me? Stella had asked. You’re a lot more like me, he’d said, and she had shined at the compliment until he added, You like to hold on too long, too tightly.
I wish I’d held up my hands and enjoyed the ride more.
Her dad had never confirmed if holding on was good or bad, but at the time she’d suspected that holding on wasn’t the best
option. These days holding on for Stella was the same as being stuck.
Now Percy lived on the west coast of Florida, enjoying the beach life he’d dreamed about. He worked as a financial advisor
in a successful firm, and every time he talked to Stella, he pestered her about going back to a real job.
Stella sometimes thought about looking for a job in finance again, but imagining sitting through years of crunching numbers
and balancing someone else’s spreadsheet made her eyes glaze over. As a kid, she had believed a more magical life was possible—one
where words came to her, books were portals to other worlds, and her mother cherished her. But after her mom left, life didn’t
feel magical anymore, and the only thing that was left of the magic were the words and books. Suddenly her ability with words
had seemed too weird, and she wanted to be normalish. Normal equated to boring, safe, and practical. Growing up and pursuing a career in finance made sense, but she never loved it and certainly wasn’t happy doing it.
Returning to Big Sky Valley and working in the library was a bit of an escape, and she loved how books made people happy,