So of course we went, making the seven o’clock movie by the skin of our teeth, then since the other movie at the two-screen theater also looked good, we went to the nine o’clock showing, too. Kate and I strolled home the long way, talking about the movies, about other movies we’d seen, about movies we’d like to see, and we’d continued talking once we got back to the houseboat.
Which was why, when I woke up the following morning, I stared blearily at my alarm clock, then was instantly awake and throwing back the covers.
“Mrr!”
“Sorry, pal.” I gave Eddie an apologetic pat on the head. “Kate!” I called. “Wake up, it’s late!” I hurried into the bathroom, took the shortest shower in the history of Minnie showers, and was dressed and toweling my hair by the time Kate extracted herself from her sleeping bag.
“Why did you let me sleep so late?” she wailed, stomping into the bathroom, where her complaints came through the thin door. “It’s my first day at Older Than Dirt. Pam will fire me if I’m late, I know it. She looks mean, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to take the job, and now I’m going to be late!”
If she stopped yelling at me and focused on getting ready, she wouldn’t be late at all, but I kept my mouth shut and opened the bag of leftover bagels.
Kate stormed out of the bathroom, tossed her pajamas onto her sleeping bag, snatched up her purse, and stomped out, completely ignoring my apologies and the cream cheese bagel I was holding out for her.
Eddie bumped his head against the back of my knee. “Mrr.”
“Yeah, I love you, too. And I’d give you a nice long snuggle, but you’re covered in Eddie hair and I’m dressed for work.” My near-uniform for summer was khakis, a dressy T-shirt, and an unstructured three-quarter-length-sleeve jacket. All slightly boring, but professional and practical. “See you tonight, buddy,” I said, picking up my backpack and opening the door. “Have a good kitty day!”
“Mrr!”
I stopped, because Eddie’s reply had sounded as if it had come from the top of the kitchen counter. He stayed off the forbidden space when I was home, but was walking out the door considered as being home?
Erring on the side of Eddie’s wishes, which was the most sensible side because he eventually won any contest that mattered to him, I headed out into the day, an hour later than I’d planned.
This meant I didn’t have time to keep my promise to Rafe to stop at the sheriff’s office, but there were other ways of communicating. The sidewalks were still mostly empty at that hour, so I did some walking and texting and hit the Send button to Ash’s phone with a satisfied nod.
I fast-walked the last few blocks to the library and dropped into my chair right on time. Then I sighed, because Kelsey was scheduled to work that day and I knew what that meant.
With my trusty ABOS coffee mug in hand—the Association of Bookmobile and Outreach Services—I hurried to the kitchen, because it was possible Kelsey was also running late.
But no. I stood in the doorway and watched glumly as Kelsey Lyons, one of our part-time clerks, pushed the coffeepot’s Go button. Kelsey was a wonderful clerk, but she had the unfortunate belief that the only good coffee was coffee with enough strength to climb out of the pot by itself.
“Early bird gets the first brew,” she said, smiling. “It’s not often I get here before you do, Minnie, so thanks.”
“Oh, man.” Josh Hadden, our IT guy, stopped in the doorway I’d just vacated. Josh was stocky, with short black curly hair so similar to mine that some people took us for siblings. “Kelsey made the first pot? You sick, Minnie?”
“Running a little late. My niece and I were at the movies last night.”
“In town here?” Josh eyed the dripping coffee. “I hear they finally got that digital projector.”
I shrugged. “We sat, we watched, we left. It didn’t seem any different to me.”
Josh shook his head. “How is it you grew up with two engineers and learned nothing? But speaking of big purchases, has the library board decided what they’re going to do with Stan Larabee’s money?”
“They’re still looking at options.” And I was pleased I was out of the loop on those meetings. Sometimes not knowing anything was the absolute best.
“You’ve told them about the servers?” The coffee drip slowed and he held out his mug for Kelsey to fill. “Thanks. Because,” he said to me, “I’ve been asking for new computer servers since I got here, and I still don’t have any. Someday one of them is going to break down and we’ll be in a world of hurt.”
I nodded in what I hoped was a soothing manner. “You’re absolutely right.” And since I could tell he was about to launch into an explanation of exactly why we needed new servers, what kind of server we should buy, and from whom, I said, “And I’ll go talk to Graydon about it right now.”
Josh grinned. “You’re the best assistant director this library has ever had.”
Since I was the library’s first assistant director, I knew exactly how much that meant. “Wish me luck,” I said, and climbed the stairs to Graydon’s second-floor office.
“Knock, knock,” I said, leaning inside the open door to look at the thin-faced man at the desk. “Do you have a minute?”
Graydon looked up from his computer screen and smiled. “For you, I have two. Three, if you brought me coffee, but since I can see you didn’t, you only get two minutes.”
I made a face. “Kelsey coffee.”
“And since you saved me from that horrible fate, you zoom up to five minutes.” He nodded at the empty chairs across from his desk. “What’s up?”
Sighing, I sat heavily. “I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”
He laughed. “Who’s spending Stan Larabee’s money this time?”
“Josh.” I sipped the coffee. It was as vile as I’d anticipated, but it was caffeine, and that was the important thing.
“New servers?” Graydon leaned back.
“You’re pretty smart,” I said. “It’s no wonder the board picked you as director.”
“Only because you didn’t apply.”
I shifted uncomfortably. If I’d become director I would have had to give up driving the bookmobile, and I wasn’t ready for that. “Anyway, I told Josh I’d talk to you about new servers, so I have to stay up here for a while.”
“Stay as long as you’d like. I’m writing the June summary for the board, if you’d like to add anything.”
“Even from here I can see that it’s wonderful. Don’t change a thing.” When I was interim director, those reports had been the bane of my existence.
Graydon laughed. “You sound like my daughters when I ask for Christmas letter contributions.”
It suddenly occurred to me that he could be an excellent source for parenting advice. I sat up straight. “You have multiple daughters, all at or over voting age. Can you tell me what it means when a seventeen-year-old girl talks to you a mile a minute at midnight, but slams the door on you in the morning?”
“Uh-oh.” Graydon smiled. “You and your niece aren’t getting along?”
“Only intermittently. With an emphasis on the ‘inter’ part.”
I told him about the fireworks, about Rex, about her nightmares, and about the previous night. I talked and talked and he made many sympathetic noises. When I left, I felt better, but it wasn’t until I’d gone back to my office that I realized he’d never answered my question about the door slam.
* * *
My text to Ash went unanswered for hours. It wasn’t until I was thinking about what to pick up for dinner—and that at some point I’d have to actually cook something, but today wasn’t the day to start that kind of habit—that he sent a reply.
Ash: Looking at Vannett. Thx.
Me: No problem. Glad to help.
Ash: Glad you are. Just stay away from snowstorms.