Chapter Twenty-four
T hat night the library was noisy with Wilfredians gathered for the trustees’ meeting.
The atrium looked as it always had: the Eastlake table with its vase of dahlias lovingly arranged by Lyndon adorned the center; the cupola’s stained glass sparkled like jewels under the moonlight; bookshelves full of happy books lined the former mansion’s rooms.
The big difference was that trustees’ meetings didn’t usually even draw the full complement of trustees, let alone most of Wilfred. Tonight’s was not one of those meetings.
Ruth Littlewood banged her gavel on the lectern. “May I have your attention, please? Quiet, everyone.”
As Wilfredians usually did when Ruth spoke, they obeyed.
“We’re going to bypass our usual agenda of budgetary review, etcetera, and go straight to a subject vital to the health of our community: cats.”
The crowd grumbled, but I did hear a few huzzah s.
“Cats are a menace to society.” Ruth cleared her voice, and her words picked up power. “They are an enemy to birds, and many people are allergic to them. They appear cuddly, but in fact have deadly sharp claws. In short, the house cat is a greatly underestimated threat.”
I raised my hand, and Ruth nodded. I wasn’t sure if we were following Robert’s Rules of Order, but I intended to take part in this discussion.
“Perhaps you’d like to be more specific.
This meeting isn’t about cats, but about the suitability of having books featuring cats in the library’s children’s section. ”
“Corrected,” Ruth said.
Wanda harrumphed from her front-row seat. She clutched a sheaf of papers, and an overhead projector sat on the front table. This could be a long night.
Mona tapped my shoulder. “May I sit behind you?” She held a small bottle and a bundle wrapped in a towel, most likely her latest foster charge.
“Sure,” I said. “We’re just getting started.”
Mona unwrapped the bundle to reveal a tabby kitten. Not helpful. I turned again to the front of the room and tried to make my back as wide as possible to hide the kitten.
“Sorry,” she whispered, “but I couldn’t leave her home.”
Ruth waved a hand toward Wanda. “I’d like to introduce a member of the community to explain these views further. I believe everyone knows Wanda, the new caretaker at the retreat center.”
Wanda set her bundle of papers on the lectern, then plugged the projector into an extension cord leading into the kitchen. She wore a crisply pressed but decadesold blue suit and had even applied a smudge of red lipstick. She was all business. She slipped on a pair of reading glasses.
“Thank you, fellow Wilfredians, for your attention to this very important issue. Currently, the library has a plethora of books in the children’s section featuring cats, often in primary roles.
These books portray cats as sympathetic, cuddly, and occasionally even wise beings.
In fact, they are dangerous creatures that should have never been domesticated. ”
She placed a slide on the projector, and the cartoon image of a hissing cat in a baby’s cradle appeared on the portable screen. Next to the cradle were several bottles ostentatiously labeled allergy medicine . An arrow pointed out the window with the words dead birds printed next to it.
“Not a bad drawing,” Duke said from somewhere behind me.
“I propose we remove these dangerous books from our publicly funded space, lest children get the wrong idea.”
Before Wanda could finish her sentence, the projector went dead. I caught a flash of black fur darting through the kitchen doorway. Rodney . I closed my eyes and groaned.
“That cat did it, didn’t he?” Wanda said. “I made my point.”
“Removing books is no way to deal with this,” Patty said. Bless her. “I have grandkids, and I want them to learn about all sorts of things.”
“I’m not saying books with cats should be eliminated,” Wanda said. “You can read these books to your grandchildren if you want to. That way, you’ll be able to expose them to the reality of cats in a responsible fashion.”
My blood pressure was rising to rival a steam engine, but I felt more incredulous than angry. Before I could reply, Duke jumped in. “Great idea,” he said. “I’d like to see books about birds taken out of the library, too. All of them, not just the books for kids.”
Ruth Littlewood shot to her feet, her birdwatching binoculars swaying on her chest. “What?”
“You think cats are a menace?” Duke said. “Look at birds. They wake you up in the morning with their racket, they nest in buildings, and they crap on cars. Birds should be eliminated. Ever wonder why I eat so much chicken? To cut down their numbers.”
Lyndon rose. This was surprising. “Birds also steal fruit in the garden. I have to put nets on the blueberries.”
“I never,” Ruth said. “This is censorship, plain and simple.”
Mrs. Tohler rose. “While we’re at it, I have a problem with leaf blowers. People are too lazy to pick up a rake so they fire up noisy, gas-guzzling contraptions, instead? How is that good for society?”
I doubted we had children’s books that featured motorized lawn care equipment, but before I could say anything, an older woman grasped her cane and stood.
“I’m offended by depictions of the elderly in books.
Sure, my hair is white and I use a cane, but that doesn’t mean I’m helpless.
If you ask me, every book containing the word doddering should be removed. ”
It was time to step in. I stood. “As Wilfred’s librarian, I’d like to—”
Wanda pounded a fist on the lectern and pointed at me. “You’re going to take the word of a woman accused of murder?”
Wow . That was a low blow. I drew a deep breath.
“As I said, as Wilfred’s librarian, I believe we can find compromise.
We all have opinions about what’s right and wrong.
A library isn’t a boxing ring where one view wins over another.
A library is about sharing different perspectives and learning about them. ”
I looked up to measure Wanda’s reaction to, what seemed to me, a logical argument, and found her staring straight at Mona. Uh-oh .
“What is that?” she said, her voice menacing.
Mona’s jaw tensed. “Don’t threaten me.”
“I asked you what you have in your lap.” Wanda’s voice came low and sinister.
Mona defiantly flipped the towel to hide the kitten she was bottle nursing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wanda removed her reading glasses and crept, eyes narrowed, toward Mona. This was the kind of walk Rodney affected when he stalked prey, like the ponytail elastic he regularly chased through my apartment.
“It’s a cat. I saw it.” Wanda practically growled.
Mona lifted her chin. “And what if it is? Cats hurt no one, and that goes double for a children’s book about a cat.”
Now Wanda faced Mona head-on, and the look in her eyes could have frozen rain into icicles. “You have no idea. Even if children don’t read these books, the covers alone influence them. Merely by looking at them they get the idea that cats are harmless. Cute, even.”
“Parents keep an eye on what their children read. If there’s anything to explain, like that cats don’t actually wear striped hats and speak in rhyme, they can,” Mona said. “What’s the big deal?”
“Imagine this,” Wanda said. “A parent determines that reading fiction about cats isn’t what’s best for their child.
Then the kid sees another kid carrying around something like”—from her sheaf of papers, she extracted the photocopy of a book cover featuring a cat drinking tea—“like this, and the first kid gets the mistaken idea that cats are perfectly innocent. If one child can check them out, it hurts every child.”
Defiant, Mona slowly unveiled the kitten.
The tabby’s eyes were closed, and her tiny paws, with their little pink toe beans, made biscuits as she suckled the bottle.
“Cats spread love,” Mona said. “And comfort. They’re beautiful.
There’s nothing more soothing than reading with a purring cat on your lap.
For some people, they’re the only friends they have.
Just because you don’t approve of cats doesn’t mean you have the right to foist your beliefs on everyone else. ”
Wanda turned away. She lived alone at the retreat center. Other than Ruth, she hadn’t seemed to make many friends. Perhaps Mona had hit a nerve.
When Wanda turned back, I saw I’d been mistaken. She wasn’t sad; she was enraged. Her eyes bulged, and her face was as red as Lyndon’s prize-winning beet from the county fair. She gulped air as if to speak, but no words came out.
Ruth quickly grasped the situation. “This meeting will be postponed. Wanda, everyone, thank you for your thoughts. We’ll reconvene in a few days.”
She left the podium and led Wanda by the shoulders to a chair. People slowly filed out of the atrium, and I retreated to my office to give Ruth and Wanda privacy. When I reemerged, they were gone, and the library was once again empty.
Ruth wouldn’t delay rescheduling the trustees’ meet ing. By then, I’d have to have a plan. That was, if I wasn’t in jail.