Read Online The Silence of the Library by Miranda James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Miranda James
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is that doing here?
I wondered. It seemed out of place. I reached for it and tugged, but the cover had stuck to the varnish of the shelf. I set the two Cherry Ames books on the shelf and reached with both hands to prize the darn thing loose. No telling how many years the scrapbook had been there, adhering to the wood.
Finally, with a forceful effort, I loosened it. Bits of the vinyl cover stuck to the shelf. I would have to try later to remove them. I scooped up the Cherry Ames books with my free hand and stepped down from the ottoman. Once again I set Cherry aside and turned my attention to the scrapbook.
I fanned the browned pages, and as I did, I could see that a few of the newspaper articles Aunt Dottie had pasted in were loose and about to flutter out. With more care I examined some of the pages and found to my delight that the items were apparently all related to children’s books. I spotted clippings from magazine articles along with the newsprint. Mildred Wirt Benson, who late in life finally gained long overdue recognition for her role in creating Nancy Drew, was featured heavily. I wondered whether Aunt Dottie had managed to find anything on Electra Barnes Cartwright. I didn’t have time now to delve thoroughly through the scrapbook, and with some reluctance I stuck it in one of the cartons and turned back to my task of choosing books for the exhibit.
Ten minutes later, satisfied that I had a representative selection of both well-known and nowadays obscure series books, I stacked one carton atop the other and carried them downstairs. I had to move with care because I couldn’t see my feet. I made it safely enough to the second floor and took the cartons into my bedroom. Since I hadn’t planned to take them to the library until tomorrow morning, they could stay here for now.
My cell phone rang while I headed down to the kitchen, and I pulled it from my pocket as I reached the first floor. According to the number that appeared on the display, Teresa was calling from her office at the library.
I barely had a chance to say “Hello” before Teresa burst into speech. “Charlie, can you come back to the library right away? Mrs. Cartwright’s daughter called. She and her son are on the way here to discuss Mrs. Cartwright’s fee for next week.”
I knew Teresa had no money in her budget to pay an author for appearing at an event. Neither Mrs. Cartwright nor her daughter had broached the subject when we visited them. What could we do about this? Especially after we’d already advertised on the library’s website that Mrs. Cartwright would appear.
I assured Teresa I would be there in a few minutes. “We’ll figure something out.” I tried to sound confident, but unless Mrs. Marter was reasonable about the amount, we would have to cancel.
TEN
Diesel chirped away in the backseat during our second trip of the day to the public library. My daughter, Laura, laughingly claimed he was conversing with us when he did that, because sometimes he was quite voluble. He would occasionally pause, cock his head to the side, and gaze up at the recipient of his confidences as if he expected a response. There were even times when I figured I knew what he was attempting to tell me, but now wasn’t one of those times. I let him chatter on until I parked the car at the library.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go in and see your buddies again.”
Diesel hopped over the seat and climbed out as I held the door open for him. Finally quiet, he padded beside me as we entered the library.
Bronwyn looked up from the reference desk as we neared. After greeting us in turn—Diesel first, as usual—she said, “Teresa is in her office. She’s really upset. Do you think she’ll cancel the whole exhibit?” Diesel disappeared behind the desk, and I knew he went to rub against Bronwyn. That would make her feel better.
Bronwyn had put in many hours preparing for the exhibit. She had a flair for art and had created the posters, besides the
I wondered. It seemed out of place. I reached for it and tugged, but the cover had stuck to the varnish of the shelf. I set the two Cherry Ames books on the shelf and reached with both hands to prize the darn thing loose. No telling how many years the scrapbook had been there, adhering to the wood.
Finally, with a forceful effort, I loosened it. Bits of the vinyl cover stuck to the shelf. I would have to try later to remove them. I scooped up the Cherry Ames books with my free hand and stepped down from the ottoman. Once again I set Cherry aside and turned my attention to the scrapbook.
I fanned the browned pages, and as I did, I could see that a few of the newspaper articles Aunt Dottie had pasted in were loose and about to flutter out. With more care I examined some of the pages and found to my delight that the items were apparently all related to children’s books. I spotted clippings from magazine articles along with the newsprint. Mildred Wirt Benson, who late in life finally gained long overdue recognition for her role in creating Nancy Drew, was featured heavily. I wondered whether Aunt Dottie had managed to find anything on Electra Barnes Cartwright. I didn’t have time now to delve thoroughly through the scrapbook, and with some reluctance I stuck it in one of the cartons and turned back to my task of choosing books for the exhibit.
Ten minutes later, satisfied that I had a representative selection of both well-known and nowadays obscure series books, I stacked one carton atop the other and carried them downstairs. I had to move with care because I couldn’t see my feet. I made it safely enough to the second floor and took the cartons into my bedroom. Since I hadn’t planned to take them to the library until tomorrow morning, they could stay here for now.
My cell phone rang while I headed down to the kitchen, and I pulled it from my pocket as I reached the first floor. According to the number that appeared on the display, Teresa was calling from her office at the library.
I barely had a chance to say “Hello” before Teresa burst into speech. “Charlie, can you come back to the library right away? Mrs. Cartwright’s daughter called. She and her son are on the way here to discuss Mrs. Cartwright’s fee for next week.”
I knew Teresa had no money in her budget to pay an author for appearing at an event. Neither Mrs. Cartwright nor her daughter had broached the subject when we visited them. What could we do about this? Especially after we’d already advertised on the library’s website that Mrs. Cartwright would appear.
I assured Teresa I would be there in a few minutes. “We’ll figure something out.” I tried to sound confident, but unless Mrs. Marter was reasonable about the amount, we would have to cancel.
TEN
Diesel chirped away in the backseat during our second trip of the day to the public library. My daughter, Laura, laughingly claimed he was conversing with us when he did that, because sometimes he was quite voluble. He would occasionally pause, cock his head to the side, and gaze up at the recipient of his confidences as if he expected a response. There were even times when I figured I knew what he was attempting to tell me, but now wasn’t one of those times. I let him chatter on until I parked the car at the library.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go in and see your buddies again.”
Diesel hopped over the seat and climbed out as I held the door open for him. Finally quiet, he padded beside me as we entered the library.
Bronwyn looked up from the reference desk as we neared. After greeting us in turn—Diesel first, as usual—she said, “Teresa is in her office. She’s really upset. Do you think she’ll cancel the whole exhibit?” Diesel disappeared behind the desk, and I knew he went to rub against Bronwyn. That would make her feel better.
Bronwyn had put in many hours preparing for the exhibit. She had a flair for art and had created the posters, besides the
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