Read Online Help Wanted by Richie Tankersley Cusick - Free Book Online Page B

… like a tragedy about to happen .…
    â€œStop this! You’re being silly,” she mumbled to herself. “I need this job, and I’m taking it.” The sound of her own voice spurred her to action. She pressed the buzzer by the gate and a moment later found herself walking up the long drive to the house.
    â€œMiss Bailey, no one’s home at the moment,” Winifred greeted her at the front door. “If you’ll just follow me, I’ll show you where you’ll be working. And if you need anything at all, I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”
    â€œGreat.” Robin smiled. “And please just call me Robin.”
    Robin liked the woman. In spite of her stiffness, there was something about her that made Robin feel comfortable. Robin followed her down the foyer and through a set of doors into a darkly paneled study. Several lamps had been turned on against the gloomy afternoon, and there was a fire crackling in the fireplace.
    â€œSee that bell there?” Winifred jutted her sharp chin in the direction of a mahogany desk where a brass bell rested upon a small brass tray. “If you need me, just ring that and I’ll come.”
    â€œThanks,” Robin said, shrugging out of her jacket. She tossed it onto a chair, and Winifred immediately picked the jacket up and folded it neatly over one skinny arm.
    â€œYou look half frozen,” Winifred went on. “Can I bring you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Cocoa?”
    â€œYes, cocoa would be nice.” Robin smiled gratefully, and Winifred left her alone.
    All of Lillith’s books had been transferred into here, Robin noticed at once. There were stacks and stacks of boxes lined along the shelved walls, and more boxes pushed discreetly back behind the overstuffed chairs. Robin wandered over to the desk, where tablets and index cards, pens and pencils were already laid out for her use. A long row of windows framed the cold, gray afternoon.
    Well, this is it. Time to get to work .
    She walked over, chose a carton, and opened it. The musty smells of damp and age washed over her as she pulled out several books, and then, on second thought, she dragged the whole box over to the desk. She felt like a little kid again, off on some treasure hunt, and as she began digging through the contents, her stomach gave a curious little twist of excitement. Look at all these books … they’re so beautiful … there’re so many of them … She was so intrigued that she hardly even noticed when Winifred brought her cocoa, and it was some time after that before she even thought to check the clock and realized she’d already been there two hours.
    This is wonderful.… I could spend the rest of my life here doing this .
    There were exquisite art books, volume after volume of prints, artists’ biographies, and lengthy art histories. Some of the books were positively ancient, and Robin suspected they might also be extremely rare. She handled them carefully, lovingly, afraid that a single breath or misplaced touch might dissolve them to dust. From time to time she came across books of other varied interests hidden among the dusty stacks—human anatomy, science, philosophy, nature—and these, too, she stopped to admire, all the time wondering about the mysterious woman they’d belonged to.
    â€œShe could talk to the dead.…”
    â€œLies, lies, lies,” Robin mumbled to herself. “All those mediums are fakes. Everyone knows that.”
    She looked up with a start as a muffled noise brought her back to reality. A door closing somewhere in the house? Glancing at the clock, she couldn’t believe what she saw— six-thirty? I’ve got to get home!
    There were only five books left in the carton. Robin lifted them out and began to scribble information on her tablet, when she heard the noise again.
    â€œWinifred?” she called out. “Is that you?”
    No one