A big, bearded man came up the steps and glared at the kids one by one, starting with the oldest boy. “Trevor. Rose. Cara. Patrick. Emma. Ethan. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“It was here, Dad,” the smallest child said. “And you were going to be on the phone a long, long time.”
Dad glanced at his watch. “Five whole minutes is indeed a long time.” He sent me an amused look. “But you knew you were supposed to wait for me.”
“It was here,” the princess girl said. “And look!” She brandished the book at him, a cover of pinks and purples and gold.
“Again with the princesses.” He shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s good!” She pulled the book to her chest. “It’s my favorite!”
He patted his daughter on the head and held out his hand to me. “Chad Engstrom. And, yes, they’re all mine. Three sets of twins, what are the odds?”
“Minnie Hamilton,” I said, shaking his hand. “They were hesitant to come on the bookmobile. Now I think I understand.”
“Kids,” he said, sighing. “Can’t live with them, can’t leave them out on the street for someone else to take.”
“You’re stuck with us,” Trevor said, his nose buried in a biography of Thomas Edison.
Chad made a deep, menacing, growly noise. “And you’re stuck with me. What do you think of that?”
“We think we love you,” they chorused.
I laughed out loud. A scene like this would never have happened inside a library. If this was what driving a bookmobile was going to be like, I was hooked.
A hand tugged at the hem of my cropped pants. “Do you have a book about a puppy?” A girl—Cara? Or was it Emma?—looked up at me, her small face full of hope and expectation.
“You bet,” I said promptly. For two months I’d done little except get ready for this day. I knew every inch of the bookmobile. I knew how many steps it was from front to back, I knew the mechanical systems inside and out, and I knew every single book on the shelves. “Right over here.”
As soon as she was settled, another hand tugged at my pants. Big blue eyes filled with question marks looked up at me.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Miss Minnie. What’s your name?”
“Ethan.”
“Hi, Ethan. How can I help you?”
“My dad said you’d show me the bookmobile.”
“Absolutely,” I said just as a quiet thump came from inside Eddie’s cabinet. “Why don’t we start at the back?”
I showed Ethan and his father the wheelchair lift, spent some time over the strapped-in book carts that I’d soon be wheeling into senior centers and day cares, and told him how the books and DVDs and CDs and magazines were arranged. The top half of my brain was engaged with being a bookmobile librarian. The bottom half, however, was running around in frantic circles. How long could Eddie stay in the cabinet undetected? I knew he’d survive the day if he didn’t eat anything, but by noon he’d start complaining that he was starving to death. Loudly.
“What’s in there?” Ethan pointed at the critical cabinet.
“Storage,” I said. “Paper towels. Glass cleaner. Nothing interesting.”
Eddie gave the door a thump. I gave it a light whack, hoping the child would think I’d made the noise both times.
“Mrr,” Eddie said.
“Shhh,” I whispered.
“Sorry?” Chad asked.
“Shoot,” I said quickly. “I forgot to bring a book your children might have enjoyed.”
“Oh? What?”
Four years of undergraduate work in library science, two years of graduate school, nine years of working in libraries, college summers working in a children’s bookstore, not to mention my own book-filled childhood, and my brain was dry of any suggestions. I gave a sheepish smile. “Afraid I can’t remember the title. I’ll try to—”
“Dad, look!” Ethan pointed. “The cabinet’s moving!”
“Leveling,” I said, putting my heel firmly against the door. “The bookmobile must not be completely level, so the door is opening on its own.” Or it would have, if there hadn’t been magnets holding the door closed, but there was no need to bother these nice people with that little point. I braced my heel against the bottom of the door, trying for a casual pose. “Do you have any other questions?”
His brother Trevor, sitting on the carpeted step at the base of the shelves, snorted. “Bet he has more than one.”
“Answering questions is why I’m here,” I said. “What do you want to know, Ethan?”
He pointed to the driver’s seat. “Why does the library have a steering wheel?”
“Because this library is on wheels. You saw me drive up, remember? And if something has wheels, you need a way to steer it.”
He nodded, then pointed to a shelf of books. “If the library moves, why don’t those fall on the floor?”
“You have bookshelves at home, right? And I bet yours are flat, like this.” I held my hands out in front of me. “If books on the bookmobile were like that, they would fall off when we hit bumps on the road.” My hands made bouncing motions. “But these shelves are different. Do you see how?”
Ethan looked at my hands, looked at the shelves, and frowned deep enough to put crinkles in his forehead.
Trevor sighed heavily, but otherwise kept quiet.
Finally, Ethan pursed his lips and nodded firmly. “They tip.”
His father clapped him on the shoulder. “Way to go, kiddo! You figured it out all by yourself.”
But Ethan wasn’t done asking questions. He pointed at the laptop computer on the counter behind the driver’s seat. “What’s that for?”
I moved away from the cabinet and showed him the RFID scanner and the wiring connecting it to the computer. “We use these to keep track of where all the books are.”
Ethan was roaming, running his fingers over the shelves, his intelligent eyes hunting for things he didn’t understand. More questions were clearly imminent.
Chad watched his son. “You’ve done a great thing here.” His other five children had piles of books at their feet.
“Thanks,” I said. “We had a generous budget, but even a great big pile of money runs out at some point.”
“That’s right, you had a donation.” Chad snapped his fingers. “I remember reading about it. Some guy who grew up around here?”
I nodded, smiling as I thought of my elderly friend. “Stan Larabee. He’s about seventy now. He moved away after high school and got into Florida real estate development. When he retired a few years ago, he moved back up here and—”
There was a click that sounded a lot like the click the cabinet doors made when being opened. I looked up. Froze solid. Half a nanosecond later, my mouth started to open, but I was far, far too late.
“Hey, look!” Ethan said, pointing.
Princess jumped to her feet. “It’s a kitty cat!”
“Mrr,” said Eddie.
Chapter 3
“A cat?” Chad looked at me.
I sucked in a large breath and blew it out. “Your kids aren’t allergic, are they?” Because now all six of them were sitting or standing or kneeling in front of the cabinet, giggling and pointing.
Chad snorted. “Those kids are so healthy, my wife and I have been tempted to inject them with a flu virus so they know what it’s like to be sick.”
“Can I pet him?” Ethan asked.
“Why do you have a cat in the cabinet?” Trevor asked.
“He’s beautiful,” Princess cooed.
The middle girl asked, “What’s his name?”
“Eddie,” I said, sighing. “His name is Eddie.” I made my way through the children and crouched down. The troublesome one had retreated so far into the cabinet that his fur was sliding up against the back wall. “We’ve been discovered, pal. You might as well come on out.” His yellow eyes stared at me. “Come on,” I said, “the natives are friendly.” I danced my fingers on the front edge of the shelf. He inched forward, sniffing, and finally came forward far enough to let me swoop him up.