The next morning, I told Sally that I’d be happy to accept the position of head of programs and events.
“I thought you’d reach that decision.” She wore a smug little smile as she handed me a pile of forms to fill out. “I need these back ASAP. Now remember, your appointment isn’t official until the board meeting this Friday. Meanwhile, you’ll continue to work with Barbara to learn as much as you can. Thursday is her last day on the job. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” I turned to leave, but apparently Sally wasn’t finished.
Her gaze went from my dark-fuchsia lipstick to the silver dangling earrings that almost brushed my shoulders.
“Your position comes with responsibilities and obligations, and that includes your appearance. You’re required to dress and groom yourself in a manner befitting a Clover Ridge Library administrator.”
I opened my mouth to say I’d dress any way I liked when I felt a poke to my ribs.
“She’s right, you know,” Evelyn Havers whispered in my ear. “Tell her you’ll be the poster girl of cooperation and proper attire.”
Annoyed, I whispered back, “Stop telling me what to say.”
“Excuse me?” Sally sounded offended.
The second nudge was more of a jab. “Stop acting like a rebellious teenager. You’re a professional woman about to hit thirty,” Evelyn said.
I rubbed my side and cleared my throat. “I’ll be happy to appear more—er, in the manner befitting my new position.”
Sally gave me a broad smile, the first she’d ever directed my way. “Your words are music to my ears.”
Evelyn Havers left me to wend my way slowly to Barbara’s office. Slowly because my brain whirred with ideas for future programs and events: trips to Manhattan, an adopt a dog or cat day, presenting musicals in the meeting room. It was time the Clover Ridge Library entered the twenty-first century.
“Go slowly,” Barbara advised after I’d rattled off a few of my future project ideas. “We have plenty of ongoing programs that our patrons enjoy. Movies, craft programs, and exercise classes filled to capacity. I scratch whatever programs aren’t well attended.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I was disappointed but grateful for her guidance.
Barbara had me print out the handouts I’d written and then place them in the holders scattered about the library.
“Why bother?” I asked. “All this information is in the newsletter and available on the online calendar.”
“Of course it is, but many of our patrons don’t bother to read the newsletter carefully. Like every other merchant and vendor, we have to advertise and promote what we offer. In this case, library programs and events. We need to catch our patrons’ attention. The number of attendees counts, my dear. Never forget it.”
Now that I knew I was taking over as head of programs and events, I peppered Barbara with questions as I tried to learn everything there was to learn. Today was Tuesday. She’d be gone after Thursday. Two more days and I’d be on my own!
“Calm down,” Barbara said when I tried to write down everything she was telling me about library grants. “We’ve literature up the wazoo on the subject. And Sally will help you. She knows you have lots to learn. Every library has its own way of doing things.”
Evelyn Havers remained out of sight, which pleased me to no end. I didn’t need a ghost acting as my private Jiminy Cricket, instructing me how to behave. Only Dorothy Hawkins remained a thorn in my side. She resented my having taken the position and glowered at me every time I passed the reference desk.
Get over it, I silently told her. You don’t have the required courses for the position. But I knew I never would have been offered the job if it weren’t for Uncle Bosco and felt a pang of guilt each time I walked by Dorothy.
We hosted a farewell dinner for Barbara Wednesday night. I was surprised to find myself close to tears when I hugged her good night.
“You’ll do a great job, Carrie,” she told me. “California’s only an e-mail away. Write if ever you need my help.”
“Thanks, Barbara. I’ll take you up on it.”
Thursday night, I dyed my hair a light golden brown, which I thought was its natural color. For the first time in months, I blow-dried it so it framed my face instead of forming it into spikes with lots of gel. Then I rummaged through my tunics and leggings until I found a skirt and top I’d saved from my administrative assistant days in Manhattan. Good-bye, Goth Carrie, I thought as I unearthed a pair of heels hidden away in the back of my closet. I wasn’t going to miss my Goth persona too much. I’d only adopted it as a lark, and because everyone else in Clover Ridge wore such proper clothes. I made a mental note to revamp my wardrobe at the local shopping mall the first chance I got. Besides, I could always slip into my Doc Martens, leggings, and tunic on my days off.
The next morning, Angela called out to me as I passed the circulation desk. “Hey, Carrie, don’t you look cool!”
All eyes turned to stare at me. My face heated up, and I hurried along as fast as my high heels would allow.
Her voice followed after me. “Meeting in the conference room at nine thirty. Don’t be late, Miss New Head of Programs and Events.”
My small audience broke into applause as I ran the rest of the way to my office.
By nine twenty-nine, the four library heads, three librarians, and four assistant librarians were seated around the mahogany oval table in the conference room. Sally made her appearance at precisely nine thirty. Her first order of business was to announce my appointment. The others clapped with enthusiasm. Only Dorothy sat, arms crossed over her chest, in silent disapproval. When it was my turn to present my report, I heeded Barbara’s suggestions and mentioned upcoming events without offering any of my new ideas. Sally nodded her approval, and I released a sigh of relief.
I spent the weekend preparing for my new life. Saturday, I went on a shopping spree, buying pants and jackets, sweaters and blouses, and low-heeled shoes as if I had an unlimited supply of money. I even indulged in a pair of sexy brown leather high-heeled boots—so different from the Doc Martens I normally wore every day. I charged it all so I wouldn’t have to start paying for my purchases until the following month.
Now that I had a good job, I suddenly longed for a place of my own. I scanned the classified ads on Sunday morning and circled several rentals I planned to check out. By day’s end, I was despondent. The few in my price range proved to be truly awful—a dank apartment in someone’s smelly basement or three tiny rooms over a dry cleaner’s. All the nice apartments cost more than I could afford right now. This was going to take time.
Be positive. Something will turn up soon.
* * *
Monday morning, I dressed with care in my new brown trousers, ribbed beige turtleneck, and low-heeled shoes. I blow-dried my hair and dabbed on mascara and green eye shadow while my heart raced like a tom-tom. I refused Aunt Harriet’s offer of breakfast—except for a cup of coffee—slipped into my leather jacket, and set out for my first solo day as head of programs and events.
The day went more smoothly than I could have hoped—probably because Barbara had talked me through every contingency imaginable. Having Trish at my side, at least from one o’clock on, was another big help both for moral support and because she knew what had to be done. Unfortunately, Susan Roberts was Trish’s opposite in every important way. She was slow and dim-witted and didn’t have even a smidgen of initiative in her body.
On Tuesday, I arrived at one o’clock because it was one of my late nights. According to my contract, I was to work two evenings each week and two Saturdays and two Sundays every month. Sally made up the schedule, which changed weekly. Trish and I went through a pile of possible new programs and made some headway on the next newsletter. At six, Susan arrived. Trish went home, and I walked over to the deli around the corner and ate my dinner—a bowl of chicken soup, a turkey sandwich, and a salad.
I knew something was wrong the minute I returned to the library. Susan stood hovering in the doorway, a look of panic on her face.
“Carrie, thank God you’re here! I didn’t want to bother you while you were having your dinner, but I’ve looked everywhere. The movie is gone!”
“The one we’re showing tonight?” I looked at my watch. “That was supposed to start five minutes ago?”
“Ye-e-e-ss!” Susan wailed.
I reined in my annoyance and pasted a smile on my face. “I know Trish took the movie out of circulation. Are you sure it’s not in the cabinet where we keep the films to be shown in the meeting room?”
“Of course I looked. It’s not there. Twenty-two people are in the meeting room waiting to see the movie. They’re growing impatient.”
“I’ll speak to them, then we’ll look for it together. Maybe it got misplaced somehow.”
“It’s a popular movie,” Susan said. “I bet someone took it home to see it.”
I stared at her. “Now who would do a thing like that?”
“I don’t know!” Susan blinked feverishly. I hoped she wasn’t going to burst into tears.
I hurried to the meeting room. “Sorry, there’s been a delay. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Susan seems to think someone absconded with the movie,” an elderly gentleman said. “Is that so?”
I cocked my head. “I intend to find out. Be back as soon as I can.”
I hurried to my office, where Susan was rummaging through the shelves in the cabinet. When she heard me, she turned around. “It’s not here.”
“Call Trish. Ask her where and when she saw it last.”
Susan picked up the phone, seemingly glad to have something to do. I wished I knew what to do next.
“Where is that movie?” I muttered to myself as I made a mad dash to the shelves of movies on the odd chance someone had put it there. Or, if I was lucky, there might be another copy. Then it hit me: Dorothy had taken it!
This wasn’t her first bit of sabotage either. The day before, she’d called one of the monthly program presenters, identified herself as me, and told him the program had been canceled. Good thing Trish had called him shortly afterward because he was in the habit of mixing up his dates. And to think Dorothy was Evelyn’s niece.
Where did she hide that movie? I couldn’t very well insist on searching the reference desk. If it wasn’t there, I’d look like an idiot.
“Where did Dorothy put it?” I muttered to myself.
“So you figured it out.” Evelyn was walking beside me and keeping pace, quite a feat for an older woman. But then again, she was a ghost.
“It wasn’t difficult.”
“Don’t blame me. Dorothy inherited her spiteful tendencies from the other side of the family. Her mother—my sister, Frieda—was the most amiable woman.”
“Where is it?” I asked. Too loudly, judging by the scowl a patron sent my way.
“Nestled among the documentaries, I’m afraid.”
A minute later, film in hand, I rushed down to the meeting room. “I have it!” I inserted the DVD in the player, dimmed the lights, and walked slowly back to my office.
“Evelyn, are you still with me?” I whispered.
“Right beside you. I faded to conserve energy.”
“Tell me, what does your niece Dorothy hate?”
“Crowds, broccoli, people talking during a movie. Why do you ask?”
“Why do you think? What is she afraid of?”
“Flying, spiders—”
“Spiders!” I grinned. “Thanks, Evelyn. You’re a dear.”
A band of cold gripped my arm. “Promise me you won’t hurt her.”
“Of course not. I simply want her to stop harassing me.”
* * *
After lunch the following day, I browsed through the party store until I found exactly what I wanted—a big black rubber spider. Back in my office, I scribbled a note: “Any more of your little tricks, and you’ll find a real one in your desk. Or maybe your car. Or perhaps your bed.”
Of course, I hadn’t the foggiest idea how I’d get a spider into Dorothy’s car or bed, but I thought it best to cover all three bases. I worked with one eye on the reference desk and bided my time. The moment Dorothy headed for the ladies’ room, I dropped off the spider and note. When she returned ten minutes later, I grabbed my iPhone, but was too late to snap a photo. No matter. Dorothy’s shriek and expression of horror were fixed in my memory for years to come.