Chapter Twenty-Seven

NAN HAD HER eye on Brandy D’Ambrosio and Amo Gonzalez. She’d seen the teenaged girl and the student worker whispering in the auto repair section, the most unlikely place for either of them to be, as neither had a car or a driver’s license. Amo had even taken his earbuds all the way out, so this must be important. They had picked their corner well. There was no way Nan could creep up behind them to listen.

So she boldly walked close to them, clipboard in hand, a frown on her face as if she was trying to solve a difficult reference question. She pulled out a book and ignored both of them. They looked up briefly, then resumed whispering. Sometimes it was to her advantage to be a fifty-year-old woman, the epitome of invisible and unimportant.

“I don’t want to,” Brandy insisted.

“I don’t either,” Amo said. “But I will if you will.”

“I hate that stuff.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Why should I?”

“Because he’s a good guy. We’re just helping out for a while. Please.”

Brandy sighed heavily. “Just for a little while.”

“You might love it when you get used to it,” Amo said.

“I won’t.”

Nan had no idea on earth what they were talking about. But when they walked up to the front desk, bent over a clipboard there, and signed their names, she knew.

Amo had talked Brandy into signing up for the fantasy worlds book club that Dunkan was starting just as soon as he had six people signed up. That was what Nan and Dunkan had agreed on. If the library had six people signed up and a few of them didn’t show up, Dunkan could still hold the meeting. Nan had been keeping her eye on the list; it had stayed steady at four people for the last month.

So Amo and Brandy had just made the fantasy worlds book club a reality. Nan wondered if Dunkan would be happy or miserable at the news. It would help him spread his wings. That was for sure.

*

SHE DID NOT foresee costumes. Two large women seemed to be dressed as fireflies. A group of teenagers in feathered capes swooped in. Someone in a mask that reminded Nan of a hermit crab shell took a front row seat.

She did not envision an overflow crowd. Apparently, fantasy worlds aficionados did not believe in signing up for things ahead of time, but they certainly believed in showing up.

Dunkan wore a long blue velvet robe with a gold sash. Under a pointy coned hat, his face bloomed bright red as he called the meeting to order and began with a dramatic reading, a short passage from his favorite fantasy epic. Nan marveled at his courage and flair.

She didn’t catch the author or title of the book he read from—and it didn’t matter because she’d never read it—but she had to admit she was sucked in instantly. The power of storytelling was stronger than its subject matter. Changelings! Conjurers! Demons! Ancients! Celestials! Doppelgängers! All of them tearing across a fallen kingdom in a quest to save the world from disappearing into a vast sinkhole of oblivion placed there by an evil lord.

As she tiptoed away, secure in knowing Dunkan had the club well in hand, she saluted all oddballs and different sorts, herself included.

All are welcome here. All are embraced here. In a way, the public library was as fantastical a world as these imaginary ones.