Chapter Sixteen
W ORKERS ARRIVED AT the library the next morning, as Harry had promised, to start working on the leaky roof on the second floor.
Men with tools and hard hats climbed the spiral staircase, sharing banter and laughter that echoed around the upper archives.
Clementine had hissed and streaked away as soon as the tools had come out, disappearing downstairs with a flash of his bushy orange tail.
‘I think I remember picking up a book here not too long ago,’ Harry remarked to Chloe. ‘It was a non-fiction book about my trade. It was’ – he pointed – ‘from that shelf over there, I think. Did the non-fiction used to be up here? Not sure I remember.’
‘Non-fiction used to be over in the upper east wing, yes,’ said Mrs Cook. ‘The library must remember you, Mr Ashcroft.’
She caught Chloe’s eye, and they both smirked at Harry’s confused nod.
They all stood at the top of the stairs as the men with tool belts shifted the bookcase and the metal bucket that had been collecting water, so they could start work, all expertise and professionalism.
They worked well under Harry, and he led them with instructions that told them he was in charge without being bossy or condescending.
Chloe found herself getting a bit flustered, hovering between the downstairs area and thinking of finding excuses to go talk to him. She wanted to mention getting dinner, reclaiming the wasted night at the pub, but surely now wasn’t the right time. He was working.
‘Did you grab that stepladder, Tony?’ called one of the workers over his shoulder.
The man called Tony made an angry noise. ‘Oh no, I forgot. I’ll go and get it.’
‘No need.’ Mrs Cook pointed, and they all looked towards the far wall, half hidden in shadow. A stepladder stood there, shiny and new.
‘Was that there before?’ asked Harry, folding his arms.
‘Probably not.’ Chloe and Mrs Cook exchanged another amused look.
They went downstairs, Chloe recalling that Harry had asked for the rest of the fantasy books.
At the time she’d gotten distracted and hadn’t ordered them.
Mrs Cook explained to her that if the books weren’t registered on the system, she would have to order them in.
After rifling through the files and finding they only had the first two, Chloe picked up the phone.
Then something caught her eye on the desk.
Books, arranged in a neat pile. Chloe picked up the top one; it was the third volume in the series. And underneath it were the rest, all with attractive matching covers.
‘Now you’re just showing off,’ she murmured aloud to the library, putting down the phone. ‘But thank you.’
Chloe worked at the computer, checking the wage slips.
It was another small job Mrs Cook had assigned to her.
With only the three of them as employees, it didn’t take too long.
Chloe decided to check Harry’s borrowing history.
She glanced over her shoulder, then went into the list of library members and their records.
She hesitated before she clicked on Harry Ashcroft .
This wasn’t an invasion of privacy, was it?
What books you read was hardly private business.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she clicked on the link.
The Meaning and Symbolism of Flowers , checked out last week at 2:45pm. Why was he checking out a book like that?
‘It’s none of your business, Chloe,’ she sang quietly to herself, clicking off the tab. She didn’t like flowers. They reminded her of bad times.
After much hammering and called orders, Harry appeared in the reception area with his workers trailing behind him, carrying their tools. ‘The roof’s all fixed,’ he said. ‘Though your cat doesn’t seem too happy about it.’
‘Clementine had claimed that little spot for himself,’ said Mrs Cook fondly. The ginger cat sulked in her arms, looking even grouchier than usual as his tail swayed back and forth.
‘Well, maybe we can make that little area for him,’ suggested Chloe. ‘Shift the bookcases and make a cat play area. Then anyone who goes upstairs to the fiction section can see him.’
As Mrs Cook settled the bill with Tony, Chloe found herself alone with Harry. ‘I . . . um, got your books,’ she said, showing him the pile on the desk. ‘Would you like to check them all out?’
Harry picked up the third book in the series, turning it over. ‘It’s like new. I’ve almost finished with the second one, so this is canny timing. Thank you, Chloe.’
‘Don’t thank me. Thank . . .’ She was going to say the library, but didn’t know how that would sound. Ah, screw it. ‘Thank the library. Mrs Cook is right, it likes you.’
‘Er, right.’ Harry looked amused as Chloe put the books into a bag for him. He thanked her and turned to go.
‘Listen,’ Chloe blurted as he headed for the door.
Harry turned. ‘Let’s . . . Let’s start over.
Go to the pub, or somewhere. For dinner.
Again. Properly, I mean. If you’d like to.
’ Heat rose to her cheeks. ‘I owe you, for the curry and for the coffees. So if you’d like to do something .
. . er, sometime?’ Stop babbling , she thought.
‘I don’t have your phone number,’ she added meekly.
Harry opened his mouth just as the library’s front door opened, a cold breeze flowing into the room. A young blonde woman came in, her long hair flowing behind her.
Chloe’s eyebrows rose. It was Gwen.
Her beauty lit up the room, from the elegant way she moved to her soft smile as she glanced around. Had she put on make-up? Harry’s co-workers stared for a little longer than necessary before slipping through the door behind her.
Chloe’s stomach dropped at the sight of her sister.
‘Hi, Chloe,’ Gwen sang, dancing over to her. ‘So this is where you work.’ She glanced around. ‘Wow, it’s lovely.’
‘Yeah, it’s the only library in the town,’ said Chloe, not quite able to keep the edge from her voice. ‘Um, this is Mrs Cook.’ The librarian smiled at her, still holding Clementine in her arms. ‘This is my sister, Gwen.’
Harry was still there, head tilted in expectation. Feeling it would be rude to exclude him, Chloe reluctantly said, ‘And this is Harry.’
‘Hi, Harry.’ Gwen waved at him. Was it Chloe’s imagination, or did their gazes linger a heartbeat longer than necessary?
And why did she care?
Chloe busied herself with rearranging papers on the desk, suddenly feeling very annoyed with everyone.
‘Do you need anything, dear?’ Mrs Cook asked Gwen as Harry came over to Chloe. ‘Are you looking for a book? Eric just came in for his shift. He can probably help you out.’
‘Would next Friday work?’ said Harry, standing in front of the lobby desk. It didn’t seem that anyone else could hear them.
Chloe looked up to meet his gaze. Her mind was suddenly blank. ‘Er . . . Friday?’
‘For dinner.’ Amusement danced in his eyes. ‘Let me make it up to you properly.’
Was Chloe hearing this right?
‘Hmm.’ She turned from him to put a file on the back shelf so he wouldn’t see her smile. ‘Oh, go on then.’
They exchanged phone numbers. Ashcroft , she thought with amusement. What were the chances?
‘I’ll text you.’ He waved goodbye to the others, and Chloe watched him as he left. She wasn’t sure why he had been secretive about it, but she was also relieved.
‘Who was that?’ Gwen asked with interest.
‘I told you. Harry. He came to fix the roof,’ said Chloe, not meeting her gaze.
‘Yeah, but he talked to you.’ Gwen came to the spot where Harry had stood a moment earlier, then prodded Chloe on her shoulder. ‘Who is he?’
‘No one, Gwen.’ Chloe swallowed a sigh. ‘Do you need something? I’ve got a lot of work to do.’
Eric emerged from the kitchen area just then, and his eyes widening at the sight of Gwen. She had curled her hair today and wore a dress and leggings, a belt accentuating her slim waist.
‘Ah, Eric.’ Mrs Cook passed him. ‘Would you help the customer, please?’
The teenage boy gaped at Gwen. ‘I . . . I . . . Can we help you?’
Despite her discomfort, Chloe couldn’t help meeting Mrs Cook’s eye right before the older woman slipped into the kitchen, coughing into her elbow to hide a giggle. It was just like Eric to be left speechless by a pretty woman.
Gwen leaned her elbow against the desk as though she’d spent her life in this place. ‘I came over because I wanted to see where Chloe works. And I was hoping I could find some job listings here. Libraries are good for that, aren’t they?’
‘I can help,’ Eric said, and he almost tripped over a stool as he hurried to where Gwen stood.
‘Hopeless romantic, that one,’ said Chloe to the library, shaking her head.
Chloe pretended to be busy on the ground floor archives, shelving random books as she watched her sister.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Gwen had an ulterior motive for showing up at Chloe’s workplace.
Gwen, of all people, would know that the internet was a much better place to look at job listings. It felt like an excuse.
Eric asked questions about what Gwen wanted to do and where she wanted to work, as though he were an expert on the subject.
Despite her tension, Chloe couldn’t help mirroring Mrs Cook’s grins as Eric, in order to show Gwen a newspaper he had plucked from the rack, leaned so far over the edge of the desk that it surely was digging into his stomach.
‘Newspapers are good because you know the jobs listed there are legit. There are a lot of scams online, you know,’ the teenager babbled. ‘There’s loads here. Retail, if you like fashion. And here you have bar work, if you’d like that sort of thing.’
‘Are you even old enough to work in a bar yet?’ Gwen asked with interest.
Eric huffed. ‘I turned eighteen last May.’
Still a baby , thought Chloe.
‘How are you doing?’ asked Mrs Cook, appearing quietly at Chloe’s side. Chloe supposed it was quite obvious that she wasn’t doing any real work and was simply listening in to Gwen and Eric’s conversation.
Chloe gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘I’m fine.’
She hadn’t asked, but she wondered if Gwen had ever had a job in her life, or if she had survived this long by flitting between rich men.
For a moment, Chloe allowed herself to fantasise about being flown first class in private jets to Paris, Milan, New York, Singapore, being lavished with gifts and sipping champagne and relaxing on sun-soaked yachts.
Now she lived in rainy old Derbyshire with her sister.
Did Gwen miss that life? Was she really looking for a job so she could start paying her own way, or would she jet off with the next guy who asked?
‘Eric seems to like her,’ Chloe remarked to Mrs Cook, who chuckled.
‘That’s just Eric being Eric. Teenage boys,’ she said, like that explained everything. It wasn’t likely Eric was Gwen’s type.
Chloe watched as Eric went to sit down, only the stool was several feet back from where it had been a moment ago. Eric’s eyes widened and he yelped as he fell to the floor on his bottom, disappearing behind the lobby desk. Mrs Cook and Chloe clutched each other in silent laughter.
Chloe could have sworn she felt a ripple of amusement from the library, too. They had both managed to straighten their faces and look busy by the time Eric emerged from behind the desk, grumbling and rubbing his behind.
‘Thanks for the help, Derek,’ Gwen called cheerfully over her shoulder fifteen minutes later, a notepad page of job listings and phone numbers tucked into her wallet.
‘You’re welcome. And it’s Eric,’ Eric called back, but Gwen had already left, the heavy oak doors closing behind her.
Chloe couldn’t deny that Gwen looking for a job was a positive thing. At least she wasn’t planning on mooching off of Chloe for ever. Whether she did indeed pay her back for the kitchen supplies and the book remained to be seen, but Chloe was willing to choose her battles.