Sonia

When I pushed through the library door the next morning, I found Sonia practically doing a tap dance behind the circ desk. She was bustling with energy, arms flying and hair bouncing.

Lenny stood to the side watching her, shaking his head and grinning his face off.

“Umm, Lenny, how much coffee has she had?” I asked worriedly.

“This is not the work of coffee,” Sonia answered for him. “It is what happens after a good night’s sleep and an adjustment of attitude!”

“She’s had a mug full of optimism, I think, with her usual six mugs of coffee,” Lenny said to me.

“Optimism, schmoptimism,” Sonia tacked back. “There’s nothing a new day can’t fix. You see”—and she pointed dramatically to Black Hat Guy’s chair—“it’s right there in black and white, clear as crystal.” Sonia read it out loud, enunciating every word, “‘Wait for the common sense of the morning.’”

“Which writer said that?” I asked.

“I have no idea, and it doesn’t matter,” Sonia answered immediately. “Yesterday the world was falling apart, but that was yesterday. I’ve turned the page. We are going to be fine. Better than fine. No one is going to take this library away!”

Lenny crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the wall, never taking his eyes off Sonia. He was loving every second of her giddy performance.

“If you would be so kind,” Sonia started, searching through a stack of today’s newspapers piled on the counter, “I have something I’d like you to read. In the Biweekly.”

Sonia found the paper and flipped to the Letters to the Editor section.

“Take a good long look at this!” She flapped the paper open and held it in front of my face like a mirror. “First column, on the bottom.”

And there it was, under the heading A Letter of Gratitude:

Dear Foxfield Residents,

A community is only as strong as its members and services. I am writing this letter to express my deepest appreciation for the community of Foxfield, and in particular, Foxfield’s exemplary public library.

Just a few days ago, an unexpected and tragic event unfolded in the library. My daughter witnessed an emergency medical situation that thoroughly shocked and frightened her, but because of the truly heroic individuals at the library, she was never in any danger of her own. One person in particular, Miss Jamie Bunn, took it upon herself to ensure my daughter’s well-being. Miss Bunn located our contact information, called us to explain the situation, and stayed by my daughter’s side until help arrived. I cannot thank Miss Bunn and the library staff enough for their genuine concern, attentive care, and timely response when faced with such a challenging and unprecedented event.

The professionalism and exceptional service provided by our library makes me proud to be a Foxfield resident. Our library is a town treasure and will always hold a special place in my heart.

With my deepest gratitude,

Gabrielle Evans

When I finished reading it, my eyes shot right back to the beginning and I read it again. Lenny grabbed his own copy from the stack and read it, too.

“Oh my God,” he said.

“This is amazing,” I whispered to myself.

“This is AMAZING!” Lenny shouted.

“Shh,” Sonia scolded him. “We’re in a library.”

“Can you believe this? I can’t believe this,” Lenny said, again with too much volume. “The timing couldn’t be more perfect!”

“Lenny, hush down. You’re in a library. You are in the exemplary Foxfield Library, which provides very professional and . . .” Sonia paused, trying to remember. “Let me see that, Jamie. What did it say again?”

I turned the paper for her.

“Oh yes,” she continued, pointing with her finger at the print, “very professional and exceptional service. I think we should send Trippley a personal copy.” Sonia took scissors out of the desk drawer and cut the letter out of the paper, making sure to keep the printed date at the bottom of the page attached. Then she pulled out some glue and construction paper and mounted the letter onto a bright red sheet so the article was framed.

“I’m using our largest mailer so I won’t have to fold it,” Sonia said.

“It looks good,” I said when she held it up for us to see.

“Why’d you mount it on red, though?” Lenny wanted to know. “I would have gone with blue, to use Foxfield town colors.”

“Red’s a fighting color, querido,” she said with a devilish grin. “And this is war.”

Then she hunched over the envelope and wrote out the address to Mayor Trippley at town hall.

I raised my eyebrows at Lenny and he raised his right back at me.

“I wouldn’t mess with her when she’s in a fighting mood,” Lenny told me.

“I wouldn’t either,” I agreed.

And then he leaned in close to me and whispered, “She called me querido.”

“Yes, Lenny,” I whispered back. “I heard her.”

Lenny glowed.