Just inside the door was a large community bulletin board. Everything from piano lessons to yard sale announcements and charity bike rides dotted the corkboard in evenly spaced increments. Beneath it sat a gray-washed table displaying several genres of books from steamy romance to autobiographies to poetry.
Glossy green plants in blue and yellow pots added life on shelves and sunny, flat surfaces. There was a colorful kids section with bright wallpaper and a rainbow of floor cushions. Quiet instrumental music murmured from hidden speakers. It felt more like a high-end spa than a public library. I approved.
Behind the long, low circulation desk was a woman who caught the eye. Tan skin. Red lipstick. Long, sleek blonde hair streaked with a warm purpley-pink. The frames of her glasses were blue and a tiny stud winked in her nose.
The only thing that screamed “librarian” about her was the large stack of hardbacks she carried.
“Hey, Way,” she called. “You got a line already upstairs.”
“Thanks, Sloane.”
“You have a line for what?” I asked.
“Nothing,” my niece mumbled.
“Tech support,” the attractive and surprisingly loud librarian announced. “We get a lot of older folks who don’t have access to their own eleven-year-olds to fix their phones and Kindles and tablets.”
I recalled Liza’s comment at dinner the night before.
Which made me recall Knox and his penis this morning.
Whoops.
“The computers are over there near the coffee bar and the restrooms, Aunt Naomi. I’ll be on the second floor if you need anything.”
“Coffee bar?” I parroted, trying not to think of my nearly naked next-door neighbor.
But my charge was already striding purposefully past the book stacks toward an open staircase in the back.
The librarian tossed me a curious look as she shelved a Stephen King novel. “You’re not Tina,” she said.
“How’d you know?”
“I’ve never seen Tina so much as drop Waylay off here, let alone willingly cross the threshold.”
“Tina’s my sister,” I explained.
“I gathered that from the whole you look almost exactly alike thing. How long have you been in town? I can’t believe there hasn’t been a trail of hot gossip blazed to my doorstep.”
“I got in yesterday.”
“Ah. My day off. I knew I shouldn’t have buried myself in my fourth rewatch of Ted Lasso,” she complained to no one. “Anyway, I’m Sloane.” She juggled novels in order to hold out a hand.
I shook it tentatively, not wanting to dislodge the twenty pounds of literature she still held. “Naomi.”
“Welcome to Knockemout, Naomi. Your niece is a godsend.”
It was nice hearing good things about the Witt family around here for a change.
“Thank you. We’re, uh, just getting to know each other, but she seems smart and independent.”
Annnnd hopefully not too damaged.
“Wanna see her in action?” Sloane offered.
“I want it even more than a visit to your coffee bar.”
Sloane’s ruby red lips curved. “Follow me.”
I followed Sloane up the open staircase to the second floor, which housed even more book stacks, more seating, more plants, and a few private rooms off to one side.
In the back was another long, low desk under a hanging sign that said Community. Waylay sat on a stool behind the desk, frowning at an electronic device. The device’s owner, an elderly Black man in a crisp button-down and trousers, leaned on the counter.
“That’s Hinkel McCord. He’s 101 years old and reads two books a week. He keeps messing with the settings on his e-reader,” Sloane explained.
“I swear it’s the damn great-grandkids. Those sticky-fingered little punks see an electronic device and they go after it like kids went after sticks and candy in my day,” Hinkel complained.
“She started coming in here a couple times a week after she and your sister moved here. One afternoon some virus software update was giving the entire system shit, and Waylay got tired of listening to me yell at the computer. She popped behind the desk and voilà.” Sloane wiggled her fingers in the air. “Fixed the whole damn thing in less than five minutes. So I asked her if she minded helping out a few other folks. I pay her in snacks and letting her check out double the number of books everyone else is allowed. She’s a great kid.”
I suddenly just wanted to sit down and cry. Apparently my face telegraphed just that.
“Uh-oh. You okay?” Sloane asked, looking concerned.