Read Online The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series) by Deena Remiel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Deena Remiel
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the first hair dryer was a vacuum cleaner?” The guy stood there with a “do you think I give a shit” look. Damn these facts swirling in my head! “Well then, y ou must have my boxes.”
“ Yeah, f ive of ’ em , right ? ”
“ That is correct, sir.”
“Sign here and here , please , and we’ll start unloading.” He offered her his clipboard.
“Sure, you can put them all right in this room .” Not keen on having him or any other strange man see her bedroom, she’d settle for bringing those boxes upstairs herself.
“Okay, give us five minutes and we’ll be out of your way .”
“Thank you.” She smiled and retreated to the kitchen to find a cup and pour ed herself some orange juice. By the time she downed her glass, they’d only one box left to bring in. As she watched the truck disappear down the road, she wished it would turn around, pick up all her boxes, put her in one, too, and take her back home. Her real home. Where she could feel the solid ground beneath her once again.
It seemed as though, from the start, transferring to Shelter Island had its share of problems. She had no idea that among the list of everyday acclimating endeavors, she’d be required to endure hazing, share space with ghosts, and become a party to a satanic cult investigation. Having the day off would give her a chance to reassess her position overall and strategize her next steps.
When she left this library, where did she go? She couldn’t go back to her old job . Or could she? They weren’t downsizing. She was lent to this library temporarily. But what if Nancy or Susan sent horrible reports back to her old boss about her? She wouldn’t put it past them. She decided to call him after getting ready for the day and formulat ed key points for their conversation.
Just as she stepped out of her clothes and into the shower, the phone rang. Damn it, no answering machine. She hopped back out and left a wet footprint trail as she ran while wrapping a towel around herself.
Breathless and wet, she picked up her phone and answered, “Hello?”
“Ms. Dutton?” A rich baritone voice seemed to sing her name.
“This is she.”
“Hello, this is Victor Langdon, President of the Shelter Island Library Board.”
“Oh, hello sir. You know, I’m not supposed to be at the library today. I already cleared a day off to receive my belongings from moving.”
“I’m not calling to check up on you. I’m calling to ask you to come to a lunch meeting today. The board wants to extend a hearty welcome to you and thank you for filling in while we find a permanent solution to our staffing woes. I can’t begin to tell you how much we appreciate the machinations you’ve gone through just for us. Please join me at my home at one o’clock. There will be light cocktails served on the terrace overlooking the lake.”
“Wow, I mean thank you. That’s very generous of you and totally unnecessary, but I’ll be there. Just tell me your address please so I can arrange a taxi.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll send my chauffeur around for you. You may not be aware of who I am beyond a name , Ms. Dutton, but do a simple internet search on me , and you will understand that this is a mere trifling in a day’s work. Enjoy the rest of your morning. I will see you shortly.”
She ran back to the shower and shuffled through the myriad of facts stored in her brain from the countless hours of reading she’d accomplished during her tenure with the library system. As she shampooed her hair, she recalled an article in Forbes magazine about a business magnate with the same name who ’d made a killing in the microchip industry.
He was the Library Board President? Why would he even bother? Then again, Shelter Island was the convenient second home for many wealth y people. You had to have money to live here, or work for someone who owned property . O r like her, you had to provide a necessary service to the people living here . It reminded her of a
“ Yeah, f ive of ’ em , right ? ”
“ That is correct, sir.”
“Sign here and here , please , and we’ll start unloading.” He offered her his clipboard.
“Sure, you can put them all right in this room .” Not keen on having him or any other strange man see her bedroom, she’d settle for bringing those boxes upstairs herself.
“Okay, give us five minutes and we’ll be out of your way .”
“Thank you.” She smiled and retreated to the kitchen to find a cup and pour ed herself some orange juice. By the time she downed her glass, they’d only one box left to bring in. As she watched the truck disappear down the road, she wished it would turn around, pick up all her boxes, put her in one, too, and take her back home. Her real home. Where she could feel the solid ground beneath her once again.
It seemed as though, from the start, transferring to Shelter Island had its share of problems. She had no idea that among the list of everyday acclimating endeavors, she’d be required to endure hazing, share space with ghosts, and become a party to a satanic cult investigation. Having the day off would give her a chance to reassess her position overall and strategize her next steps.
When she left this library, where did she go? She couldn’t go back to her old job . Or could she? They weren’t downsizing. She was lent to this library temporarily. But what if Nancy or Susan sent horrible reports back to her old boss about her? She wouldn’t put it past them. She decided to call him after getting ready for the day and formulat ed key points for their conversation.
Just as she stepped out of her clothes and into the shower, the phone rang. Damn it, no answering machine. She hopped back out and left a wet footprint trail as she ran while wrapping a towel around herself.
Breathless and wet, she picked up her phone and answered, “Hello?”
“Ms. Dutton?” A rich baritone voice seemed to sing her name.
“This is she.”
“Hello, this is Victor Langdon, President of the Shelter Island Library Board.”
“Oh, hello sir. You know, I’m not supposed to be at the library today. I already cleared a day off to receive my belongings from moving.”
“I’m not calling to check up on you. I’m calling to ask you to come to a lunch meeting today. The board wants to extend a hearty welcome to you and thank you for filling in while we find a permanent solution to our staffing woes. I can’t begin to tell you how much we appreciate the machinations you’ve gone through just for us. Please join me at my home at one o’clock. There will be light cocktails served on the terrace overlooking the lake.”
“Wow, I mean thank you. That’s very generous of you and totally unnecessary, but I’ll be there. Just tell me your address please so I can arrange a taxi.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll send my chauffeur around for you. You may not be aware of who I am beyond a name , Ms. Dutton, but do a simple internet search on me , and you will understand that this is a mere trifling in a day’s work. Enjoy the rest of your morning. I will see you shortly.”
She ran back to the shower and shuffled through the myriad of facts stored in her brain from the countless hours of reading she’d accomplished during her tenure with the library system. As she shampooed her hair, she recalled an article in Forbes magazine about a business magnate with the same name who ’d made a killing in the microchip industry.
He was the Library Board President? Why would he even bother? Then again, Shelter Island was the convenient second home for many wealth y people. You had to have money to live here, or work for someone who owned property . O r like her, you had to provide a necessary service to the people living here . It reminded her of a
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