Time to move on. I crossed the Green and headed for the library. A gust of wind bowed the branches of the nearby trees, showering me with red and yellow leaves. I paused to inhale the tangy air. It was a glorious October morning, and I stood in the center of the most glorious setting—the historic town of Clover Ridge, Connecticut. This was my family’s hometown, where I’d spent my summers as a kid. Elegant, well-preserved homes bordered one side of the Green, and an array of shops, Zagat-rated restaurants, and galleries bordered the other three sides. We were a stone’s throw from the Long Island Sound and a few miles from the river, with a low mountain range to the west. Picturesque by anyone’s standards—mine included—but my need to leave was growing stronger every day.
Since graduating from college seven years ago, I’d held five jobs in as many states. Practically a new job every year until I began my online library science degree. Even then, I’d worked in three different libraries before coming here. I sometimes wondered if I’d inherited my wanderlust from my father. He was always away traveling . . . when he wasn’t in prison. Now he was off somewhere—I had no idea where—and my mom was remarried and living in California. I’d come to Clover Ridge for a visit, and my departure was long overdue.
I approached the Clover Ridge Library, which was once a private home and still exuded a warm and cozy ambience. I loved libraries and felt most secure and happy surrounded by books. Still, I wished I were off hiking in the nearby mountains instead of spending the day carrying out tasks any ten-year-old could handle. The wind cut through my cotton poncho, sending shivers down my back. Winter was coming. Time to move on to someplace warm. Someplace new. I yanked open the heavy wooden door and entered.
Where would Sally put me today? In reference with prune-faced Dorothy Hawkins, who would order me to weed the collection? In the children’s room to read a story to the pre-Ks? Actually, I wouldn’t mind that. Only please don’t make me spend the day reshelving returns like I did last week. That wasn’t why I’d gotten my library science degree.
“Hey, Carrie,” Angela called out as I passed the circulation desk. “Great day, isn’t it?”
I grinned back. Angela was in her late twenties, like me, and one of the few library employees who’d befriended me. “Sure is.”
She winked. “I love the new color of your hair.”
I ran my fingers through the spikes sticking up from my scalp. Ever since high school, I’d been a rebel in the looks department. It irked my proper-minded mother because it reminded her so much of my errant father.
“I got tired of red. Thought I’d go for purple this week.”
Angela shot me a look that conveyed sympathy, conspiracy, and warning. “Sally wants to see you in her office ASAP.”
“I’m on my way.” Against my orders, my heart began to race. “I wonder what she wants.”
“Beats me.” Angela turned to a patron to check out her books.
California would be nice. Or Florida. I hurried past the reference desk, glad that Dorothy was mesmerized by something on her computer screen, and turned the corner to Sally’s office. “Library Director” shouted the sign over the doorway in big bold caps.
I stood before the closed door, reminding myself that Sally had no real authority over me. I was working as a floating librarian—a temp—and I could quit any time I liked. If she gave me another lecture on proper attire, this time I knew my rights. The library hadn’t had a dress code for its employees since 1963. Still, I tugged at the ends of my tunic, which refused to budge any lower than midthigh over my leggings.
Besides, I was leaving. I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing Uncle Bosco would be upset when I gave him the news. But I’d told him back in May that I was only visiting. I couldn’t help it if he wanted me to stay so badly he’d made himself believe I’d be settling down in Clover Ridge.
I knocked. As I entered Sally’s office, a draft of wind blew by, as though someone were entering the office beside me.
“Good morning, Carrie.” Sally looked up from her desk. She frowned when her glance reached my hair. “I’m glad you finally got here.”
“I arrived on time. It’s now three past nine.” I wished I hadn’t risen to the bait. Sally loved to put people on the defensive.
“So it is. Please have a seat.”
Uh-oh. What am I in for? I’d sat in this office only once before—the day Uncle Bosco had introduced me to Sally and all but ordered her to take me on as an assistant librarian. I perched on the edge of the chair and hoped my expression was pleasant. I waited as the silence continued.
Finally Sally spoke. “Your job application indicates that before coming here, most of your library experience was in adult programming.”
“It’s true.” I knew I sounded as puzzled as I felt. In the five months I’d been working there, I’d spent no more than ten days in programs and events.
“You had a stint as programs coordinator in a small New Jersey library.”
“Yes. Filling in while the coordinator was out on leave.”
“The director has given you an excellent reference.” Sally sounded unhappy about that fact. She sighed. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but Barbara Sills has had to resign her position as head of programs and events. Her husband took a job in California, and they’re leaving at the end of the month.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“We need a new head of programs and events, and I”—she cleared her throat—“would like to offer you the position.”
“Really?” I stared at Sally.
She looked sullen. I opened my mouth to say I didn’t want any part of this when she spoke.
“I can’t imagine you get much satisfaction floating from one section of the library to the other.”
“I don’t. To tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking of lea—”
A draft chilled my neck as a voice whispered softly in my ear, “Don’t be a fool! Tell her you’ll think it over and give her your answer tomorrow.”
I looked around. Only Sally and I were in the room.
“Go on. Tell her!” the voice hissed. “Or she’ll think you’re a moron and withdraw the offer.”
Startled, I cleared my throat and obeyed the mysterious voice. Was this my conscience telling me my vagabond days were over? “The offer sounds very tempting. And I have been thinking about my future.” Mostly my future outside Clover Ridge.
“Of course you have!” Sally said in a hearty manner not at all like her. “You’re almost thirty. You have to consider what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life.”
I cringed. Did she have to remind me my big birthday was just two months away?
“What does this new position entail?” I asked.
She proceeded to tell me about the various classes, programs, and events that filled almost every hour of the week the library was open to the public. The movies. The trips. How the bimonthly newsletter had to be planned and written three months in advance. By the time she started in on acquiring guest speakers, instructors, and performers, my head was spinning.
Could I handle it all?
Did I want to handle it all?
“That’s quite a workload,” I said. “How many assistant librarians help Barbara?”
Sally’s head jerked back. Clearly, my question had offended. “Two part-timers: Trish Templeton is here every weekday afternoon, and Susan Roberts comes in four evenings a week.”
“Oh.”
“The position is demanding. It requires a good deal of time and effort, but the salary’s quite good.”
I bit back a gasp when I heard the amount. I could pay off my car. I could get my own place. I could—
“However, if you don’t feel comfortable undertaking the position—”
“I can handle it,” I said firmly, a reaction to her dismissive attitude rather than a sureness that I could manage all that would be required.
Sally eyed me speculatively. “I certainly hope so. There are librarians here with more experience and seniority. But considering certain factors and that programs and events is your specialty, the job is yours if you so decide.”
“I appreciate the offer. Still, I must think it over very carefully. I’ll let you know my decision first thing tomorrow morning.”
“That’s understandable,” she said, surprising me. “Why don’t you work with Barbara today? That way, you’ll see how she runs the department. I’ll expect you here tomorrow at nine sharp. I’d like to get this settled once and for all.”
I was dismissed. I closed the door behind me, careful not to slam it as I wanted to. Sally had all but told me she disapproved of me for the job. Obviously, I was being offered the job because Uncle Bosco sat on the library board and had made a hefty donation for the future library extension. What’s more, Sally’d had someone else in mind for the position.
“You did admirably well,” a voice whispered in my ear.
I glanced down and was shocked to find a frail-looking elderly woman at my side. I was no giant, but she couldn’t have been more than five feet two inches in her black “old lady” shoes. “Who are you? How do you know—?”
“Shhh.” She pointed across the room, where prune-faced Dorothy sat glaring at me from her seat behind the reference desk.
“I bet she wants the position,” I murmured.
“I think she’d kill for it.”
“Oh.”
“She always was a spiteful child,” the woman said. “Once, when her younger sister received a stuffed elephant for her birthday, Dorothy threw it into the pond. Of course, she denied it, but we all knew she’d done it.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I was there. Dorothy’s my niece.”
I shivered. “Who are you?”
The woman crooked her finger. “Follow me and I’ll explain.”
She led me into an empty office and asked me to close the door. When we were seated and facing one another across a desk, I said, “Okay. Talk.”
She cleared her throat. She seemed almost transparent. “I’m Mrs. Havers. Evelyn Havers. I used to work here in the library.”
“Used to?” I leaned across the desk. “You’re looking . . . rather pale.”
“I’m fading is what you mean, dear.”
“Fading?” I was having difficulty following her end of the conversation. “Were you in the room with Sally and me? I couldn’t see you when you spoke to me. You told me . . .” I jerked back and gawked at her.
Mrs. Havers exhaled loudly. “Do us both a favor and don’t get hysterical when I tell you I’m a ghost.”
“A ghost!” I echoed, feeling hot and then cold and too numb to move. “I always wondered if ghosts really exist. I’ve always wanted to meet one. One that was friendly, I mean.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You seem friendly.” I blinked. “And you’re real.”
“That I am,” Mrs. Havers agreed. “Both friendly and real. I would explain more, but we don’t have much time. I must soon return to where I go when I’m not in the library.”
I shook my head. I closed my eyes. “This is a delusion. I’m hallucinating. Is this the result of drinking two glasses of wine last night?”
“Don’t be silly! Try to pay attention, Carrie, in these few remaining minutes. Very few people can see me. I realized you have the gift, so I’ve been hiding from you until today. I saw you were bored with the mindless tasks they had you do. Why show myself if you were planning to leave? But now that you have the chance to stay on as head of P and E, it’s time we got acquainted.”
My mouth fell open as I watched her grow more transparent by the second. I leaped to my feet and yanked open the door, ready to bolt.
“Please don’t be frightened,” she pleaded. “I’ll never hurt you.”
I turned slowly. “Why are you here?”
“I’m not sure. I believe I’m supposed to help in some way, but I’ve no idea how.”
“Who else can see you?” Was I the only freak?
“Only a little girl named Tacey. She’s four. She sometimes brings me cookies, though I’ve told her enough times I can’t eat them.” Mrs. Havers smiled. “She’s afraid I’ll go hungry.”
“Why did you follow me into Sally’s office?” I asked.
“I knew she’d called you in for something important. And I was right. I hope you’ll take the position.”
“I’m not sure what I’ll do. It sounds like a lot of work and responsibility. Besides, I was thinking it was time I left Clover Ridge.”
“You can’t run away from yourself or your history.”
“You know nothing about me!”
Mrs. Havers didn’t answer because she was no longer on this plane. What a bizarre day this was turning out to be. First an amazing job offer, then an encounter with a ghost. I opened the door and headed for Barbara Sills’s office.
* * *
“So Sally’s finally made up her mind,” Barbara said when I told her why I’d come. She was a petite brunette in her midforties, with sparkling brown eyes and a touch of ADD, which I figured helped carry her through her many tasks. “I suggested she consider you as my replacement a month ago.” Barbara winked. “It took a push from the board to get her in gear.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” I said. “I’m still thinking it over.”
“Don’t take too long. She’s interviewed a few applicants, but so far, no one’s been a good fit. Dorothy’s dying for the position and pressuring her best friend to wield her influence. But Sally’s smart enough to know Dorothy would make a total mess of things. However, if you won’t take it, she might have no choice but to give it to Dorothy.”
Barbara put me to work laying out and typing up the January–February newsletter. We worked side by side in companionable silence. Suddenly it was lunchtime.
“Shall we?” She reached for her jacket.
“Of course,” I said, as if we’d been eating lunch together these last few months.
We walked around the corner to the Cozy Corner Café, whose lunch menu featured giant-sized sandwiches on homemade bread and two hearty soups that changed daily. I ordered a turkey and bean sprout sandwich on their eight-grain bread and ate every crumb. I took mental notes as Barbara filled me in on the various programs she’d recently set up, but we were constantly interrupted by people stopping by to tell her how much they were going to miss her and her husband.
“I’m going to miss all this,” she said as we were paying the bill. “Clover Ridge is such a friendly place. Doug and I moved here nine years ago, and it seems we’ve lived here all our lives. You must know the feeling. I understand your family’s been here for generations.”
“My grandfather and Uncle Bosco, who’s actually my great-uncle, grew up on Singleton’s Farm, three miles outside of town. I used to spend summers here when I was little, before they sold the farm.” I laughed. “My job was to feed the chickens.”
“And now you’re back,” Barbara said.
I shrugged. “I’m thinking of moving on—maybe to California like you. Or to Florida.”
Barbara looked upset. “I thought you were seriously considering taking over P and E.”
“I am thinking about it. I told Sally I’d let her know my decision tomorrow morning.”
We walked back to the library in silence. It was obvious I’d disappointed Barbara, even though I’d told her my intentions from the get-go. I sighed. People heard what they wanted to hear.
The truth was, part of me—the part that longed to run my own program and events department in a small library—was ready to rush into Sally’s office and shout, “I’ll take it!” But the other part of me shied away from anything permanent, especially in a town where people knew the type of man my father was and that he’d been in prison.
We entered the library and passed a line of patrons waiting to check out books and films at the circulation desk.
Barbara took off her jacket. “Trish will have come in by now. She’s a dynamite worker and can handle any job. She’ll work overtime as long as you give her enough notice so she can get someone to babysit her two kids.” She grimaced. “Don’t expect the same level of work from Susan, though she does her best.”
“Good to know.”
Trish was typing away on one of the computers. She was short and round, with rosy cheeks and dark-brown hair that framed her face. She reminded me of one of those Russian nesting dolls.
“May I tell her?” Barbara asked.
“Of course.”
After Barbara finished explaining that I’d been offered her job, Trish got up and hugged me.
“This is the best news I’ve heard today. I think I’d have to quit if Dorothy got the position.”
I sat at the table to finish laying out the newsletter. When I was done, Barbara had me write blurbs for handouts for next month’s programs and events.
“How do you decide on new programs?” I asked after I’d done a few.
“I keep my eyes and ears open for guest speakers. I have a long list of people who’ve contacted me wanting to do a program.” She laughed. “Tomorrow we’ll go through the list together. Too many of them are downright boring.”
“We have a real exciting program coming up in two weeks.” Trish’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“You mean Al Buckley’s talk,” Barbara said. “I’m sorry I’ll be missing it. You’ll have to e-mail me all about it.”
“Who’s Al Buckley?” I asked.
“Al was a detective on the local police force. Fifteen years ago, he was in charge of a murder case that was never solved,” Trish said.
A chill snaked up my back. “Around here? Who was murdered?”
“A lovely woman named Laura Foster,” Barbara said. “She was married and had two boys in high school. Someone came into the house and struck her when no one else was home.”
“How awful,” I said. “And how awful that they never found out who killed her.”
Barbara and Trish exchanged glances.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The word is that Al was drinking a lot in those days and wasn’t on top of things like he should have been,” Barbara said. “In fact, there was a hearing, and he ended up leaving the force.”
“But he’s cleaned up his act,” Trish said, “and feels terrible about not finding Laura’s killer.”
Barbara nodded. “When he called a few months ago, he said he hadn’t been able to get the case out of his head. He started investigating on his own a year or so ago and has found what he believes is new evidence that will put the killer away.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t he go to the police with what he’s found?”
“He did, but Al doesn’t know if they’ll follow up on it, given his history with the department.”
“They should listen to him!” Trish said. “Al’s a great guy and a terrific detective. He and my dad have been friends for years. I know what a bad time he was going through when Laura was murdered. Now all he wants is to solve the case and write a book about it.”
“It will make for an interesting program,” Barbara said, “but now we have to get to work.”
* * *
At ten minutes past five, I retraced my morning walk, my head abuzz with the many surprises of the day. Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco’s home stood on the far side of the Green—a large, white, wooden-framed house of the same architectural style as the library and most of the other houses in the area. I’d arrived in May, despondent and lethargic, grateful for my aunt and uncle’s loving hospitality. I immediately felt at home in their large, beautifully decorated guest room and never tired of gazing out the window at Aunt Harriet’s gardens and the mountains in the distance.
They’d bought the house from another old Clover Ridge family seventeen years ago after selling the family farm. Uncle Bosco liked that it was located smack in the middle of town yet had a deep front lawn that afforded them a sense of privacy. Aunt Harriet appreciated the acre of backyard, which was large enough for a good-sized vegetable garden as well as the floral and shrub arrangements she loved to design.
My aunt and uncle were where they always were at this time of day—in the den, ensconced in matching lounge chairs, enjoying a glass of wine. I kissed them both and then went to get my glass of Chardonnay chilling in the refrigerator.
“Have a nice day at the library?” Uncle Bosco called after me.
“It was okay.” I sat on the sofa and sipped my wine.
“Just okay?” Aunt Harriet asked.
I bit back my smile. “Why? Is there anything special about today?” Obviously, they knew about the job offer—just as they knew about everything that went on in Clover Ridge.
Uncle Bosco cleared his throat. “We’re asking because we want our favorite grandniece to be happy.”
I burst out laughing. “Uncle Bosco, did you twist Sally’s arm until she agreed to give me the library position?”
“Of course not. I simply pointed out that you’re the most qualified for the job.”
“Though I’ve worked in programming for less than two years?”
“It’s more hands-on experience than anyone else has.” Uncle Bosco eyed me closely. “You don’t sound as glad as I thought you’d be.”
I frowned. “I didn’t plan on staying here long-term. This job sounds so . . . permanent.”
My great-aunt and uncle exchanged glances.
“But you’ve seemed happy lately,” Aunt Harriet said. “Much happier than when you arrived.”
“I am happier,” I agreed. “Who wouldn’t be, living with you guys? You spoil me. Never letting me do more than help with the dishes and the grocery shopping. Only, I don’t think Clover Ridge is the right place for me.”
“Nonsense!” Uncle Bosco boomed as he always did when brushing aside opposing opinions. “We Singletons have lived in Clover Ridge for generations. You have cousins here and in the neighboring towns.”
“Their father wasn’t a thief who lived apart from his family even when he wasn’t in prison. Sooner or later, people are going to figure out I’m Jim Singleton’s daughter.”
“Let them,” Uncle Bosco said. “You’re your own person, Carrie. You’re beautiful and smart, and it’s time you thought about settling down.”
Why is everyone telling me to settle down?
“Besides, I’d forgotten how cold it gets here in the winter,” I said. “I’m thinking of heading south to Florida.”
“The job’s a wonderful opportunity,” Aunt Harriet said. “You’d be doing work that you love.”
“Why don’t you give it a shot?” Uncle Bosco said. “Offers like this don’t come along very often.”
“True,” I agreed.
“If you don’t like it for some reason, you can always leave,” Aunt Harriet said.
“Maybe I’ll do that.” A weight slid off my shoulders. It was a decision I could live with—taking a job I loved, yet knowing I could leave at any time.
You call this a decision? All you’re doing is putting it off, my critical voice scolded.
Perhaps, but this way, I’m giving the job a chance, I answered back.
Aunt Harriet pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll go and see to dinner. We’re having meatloaf, veggies, and garlic mashed potatoes.”
“Can I help?” I got up too.
“No, you can’t.” She pressed my shoulder down. “You put in a day’s work at the library. Relax here with your Uncle Bosco.”
I suddenly remembered my odd experience earlier in the day. “Did you know Evelyn Havers?”
“Of course. Everyone knew poor Evelyn,” Aunt Harriet said. “Why are you asking about her?”
“Someone mentioned her name in passing—and that she died.”
Uncle Bosco let out a sigh. “Evelyn worked in the library for as long as I can remember. The sweetest woman you could ever hope to meet. Always helping anyone who needed a hand. She fell in the parking lot. I’m ashamed something like this happened here in Clover Ridge, where we look after one another.”
Aunt Harriet nodded. “It was a bitter cold February evening five years ago. No, six. Evelyn was one of the last people to leave the library. She must have slipped and fallen on a patch of black ice, hit her head, and lost consciousness. They found her the following morning a few feet from her car. Poor dear. The only consolation is that she didn’t suffer. Someone set up a shrine where she fell; people left flowers in her memory for months afterward.”
“How awful,” I said. “Didn’t anyone realize she never made it home?”
“Evelyn lived alone after her husband died.” Aunt Harriet smiled. “Such a good-hearted soul. She’s been gone all this time, but I still expect to see her whenever I’m in the library. It’s as though her spirit lives on in the place she loved best.”