SEVENTEEN
Blake held open the door and ushered in the young woman who had made me feel like a two-inch Troll doll at the city council meeting. It wasn't her fault, though-tall, beautiful people had that effect on me.
"That's not what the law says, Blake," she said as she entered the building. "The 1967 case-"
I turned to Melanie. "She's citing precedents," I whispered. "She's not your average fluffy."
"I don't even know what citing precedents means," Melanie whispered back.
Blake led Tara over to the circulation desk. "Honey, you remember Melanie, from the meeting," he said.
Tara nodded. "Nice to see you again."
"And of course, Addie."
What did he mean by that-"of course, Addie?" Did he mean "Of course you remember this airheaded chick who attacked the mayor with cardboard and had to be bailed out of jail?" That's not what really happened, but how was I supposed to know what he remembered of the incident?
"Hi," I said, offering my hand in what I hoped was not a masculine way. Tara took it, and I liked her grip immediately. She wasn't one of those cold-fish handshakers.
"It's good to meet you officially, Addie," she said. "Blake tells me you practically run this place."
"He said that?" I blinked. "He said something nice about me?"
"Oh, come on, Addie. I say lots of nice things about you." He motioned for Tara to follow him down the stacks.
"He said something nice about me," I whispered to Melanie.
"See? He's not all evil," she replied.
"Yes, I am." His voice floated from behind the bookshelves. "I just give credit where it's due, that's all."
Tara stayed for about an hour, and then Blake took her to her friend's house, where she was staying, so he could finish his shift "uninterrupted," as she put it. I was able to breathe a little easier when they left. My feeling that we'd be under inspection had pretty much been justified-I saw it in Tara's eyes as she walked around the building. I had a brief suspicion she would pull out a white glove to check for dust on the shelves, but cast it aside. She hadn't done anything to make me feel as though she disapproved. I was just self-conscious, especially after Blake's sideways compliment. It should have been reassuring, but for some reason, it made me all the more edgy. Although, come to think of it, he had been doing the dusting lately, so if she found anything amiss, it would be his fault, not mine. I liked that.
@ ??1
"And that takes care of the kitchen." Mom flung herself onto the living room couch, and Aunt Kathy joined her. I had already taken the overstuffed chair in the corner, and we stared into space.
"I can't feel my arms." I flopped them at my sides. "How many shelves did I just wash?"
"At least a thousand," Kathy replied. "But every last plate, pan, and can of beans has been put where it belongs."
"I feel guilty that you're over here helping me," Mom said. "You've got unpacking to do too."
"Yeah, but it's more fun to unpack your stuff. I can be snoopy and check out your cookware. You have better saucepans than I do."
"You can borrow them."
We sat quietly for a few more minutes, and then I tried to move. It was a pretty pathetic effort. "Think the kids are done with their rooms?"
"I doubt it," Mom said. "But that's okay. As long as they can find their school books and their beds, the rest can wait." She stretched and then gave a giant yawn. "You know, I'm completely worn out, and I'm getting a headache. Let's call it a night."
Kathy stood up. "I think a hot shower is in order. Let me know when you're ready to start again tomorrow, and I'll come over."
Mom waved tiredly at her sister, and Kathy closed the door behind her.
"Think we'll ever get unpacked?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm sure we will." Mom absently rubbed her arm, the one that had been broken in the car accident. I hoped she wasn't straining it too much. "Just a matter of time." She pushed herself to her feet. "A shower sounds good. I think I'll take one too."
I sat in the living room and listened to Mom's water run. Over the last two days, we'd been working hard to get things put away, and before long, the only boxes left would be those for storage. Things were coming together at home, but I didn't even want to think about how many boxes were left to pack at the library.
@ ??1
Once again, I couldn't help but cringe at the unfairness of the situation. Just the weekend before, I had helped my family relocate to a new house, and now, four days later, my coworkers and I were starting our move to the new library. We'd already moved two shelves over to test the system, but we couldn't take full residence until today. All my muscles were screaming. I could almost hear them inside me, begging for mercy, wondering what they'd ever done to deserve such awful treatment.
However, I would be lying if I said I didn't feel just a little smug when Blake handed me the keys to the moving truck. Apparently, years of driving a motorcycle had hindered his truck-driving abilities. I can be kind-I decided not to bring up the bookmobile incident, even though we both knew we were thinking about it. And I was especially motivated by the fact that Tara had stuck around to help us. I didn't want to chase off extra hands, and I didn't want to embarrass Blake in front of her. I figured I owed him for the whole Rob thing.
Chase showed up a few minutes after that and greeted me with a big high-five, like we'd known each other forever. In a way, I felt like we had. We'd hit it off really quickly and I was glad he'd be helping us out-the project would be a lot more fun with him there.
Tara taped up the boxes of books that would go into storage and placed their inventory slips on the outside in plastic sleeves-my idea, thank you very much. Chase and Blake got to work dismantling the bookcases. I had the much easier task of stacking the shelves they removed and placing all the bolts in a bag. It was fun listening to the two guys tease each other as they worked, but I kept glancing at the clock. It was getting late, and Melanie had said she and Luke would come down to help us. Our deadline was looming, our manpower was limited, and I didn't know when my friend was going to show up.
Finally, an hour later, Melanie and Luke came in, his arm slung around her shoulders. I smiled and said hi to him, figuring I'd done my duty and could ignore him the rest of the day. I knew I couldn't do it forever, though, because in just a few days, he'd be my best friend's husband. I inwardly cringed at the thought. This wedding still didn't feel right.
"You guys got a lot done," Melanie said, looking around at the dismantled shelves.
"Maybe you don't need us after all." Luke turned as if to leave, but Melanie tugged him back.
Blake rose from the floor where he had been squatting. "Hey, guys, I'm glad you could make it." He reached out and shook Luke's hand. "I'm Blake. Thanks for your help."
Luke mumbled something that could have been in a different language-that's how much I understood.
Chase came around the corner of the nearest upright bookcase and cheerily greeted Melanie, but when his gaze fell on Luke, his face froze into a mask. He paused and leaned against the shelves, crossing his arms. Luke pretended not to see him, which of course made me all the more curious. When you grow up in a small town like I did and there's something mysterious going on, you want all the details, and you generally get them sooner or later, usually from a sweet, well-meaning older lady. I didn't know if I could wait to hunt one down.
I glanced at Melanie. She didn't notice anything strange-or if she did, she didn't show it.
Luke and Melanie started carrying the pieces of shelving out to the truck. Chase returned to taking out floor bolts, and I walked over to Blake. "What was that all about?"
"What?"
"You mean you didn't notice that . . . thing?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What thing?"
I flapped one of my hands at Chase. "The thing. With Luke and your roommate."
"No."
I sighed. Guys could be so unobservant sometimes. I decided I'd imagined the whole thing-that's what happens when you read a lot of fiction, I guess.
We all worked hard for the next forty-five minutes, but then Luke and Melanie decided to take off. They hadn't really been working anyway-Luke had spent a lot of time playing with Melanie's hair, which I found too annoying for words. I collapsed on one of the couches, with Chase to my left and Blake in a chair across from us. Tara stretched out on the floor.
"What now, master?" Blake asked.
I shook my head. The place looked like it had been ransacked. Pieces of shelving were stacked up against the walls, and there were still rows upon rows of shelves yet to be catalogued, emptied, and dismantled. It was overwhelming and disheartening. So much to do.
"The moving truck is almost full," I said. "Let's call it a night here, okay?"
"Okay." Blake pulled himself to his feet, groaning. "Man, my back is killing me."
"That's what happens when you geriatric types try to do the work of us youngsters," I said, and Chase laughed.
Blake scowled at both of us. "Go home and we'll meet up here in the morning."
I patted the truck keys in my pocket. "Are you sure you don't want to go for a midnight drive?"
"I'm sure."
@ ??1
After a good night's sleep and a hot shower, I was ready to go again. Mom was at work early, but had left some muffins on a plate in the kitchen. I got the kids out the door for school, then returned to the library. Blake was already there, climbing off his motorcycle, and he had Tara with him. She pulled off the spare helmet, and her long blond hair cascaded down in waves. Yep, very Taylor Swift. Jealous much?
I had to hand it to her, though. The day before, I'd wondered how much help she was going to be, but after she got the boxes taped, she pitched right in and started carrying shelves back and forth like she'd been doing it her whole life. I'd pictured her worried about chipping a nail or something, but I'd judged her unfairly. Yes, she was beautiful, but she wasn't a wimp.
I drove the moving van over to the storefront, with Blake and Tara following on his motorcycle. The van handled really well, and there was not one incident the entire way. I was quite proud of myself.
Chase was waiting for us when we got there, his truck o' tools parked right in front. Blake unlocked the door-I hadn't been given those keys, darn it-and we got to work. We lined the shelves against the wall, then compared our rough floor plan with the actual layout of the building. Because we were signing a two-year lease, we'd gotten permission to bolt the shelves into the concrete floor. I was very relieved. The thought of those heavy bookcases, full from edge to edge, without the extra stability-I'd had nightmares about some little kid getting crushed in a tumbling domino maze of shelves.
Chase pulled out a tape measure, and he and Blake began marking the maroon carpet with white chalk as they decided where the bolts should go. I took a seat on the floor, leaning up against the wall, and Tara sat next to me.
"Law school. Wow." It was lame, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. I wished I had some precedents to cite or something.
"Yeah, it's pretty intense." Her gaze followed Blake as he moved around the room. "I can't wait to be done."
"I bet you'll be a great lawyer."
She turned to me. "So, what's Blake's job really like? He doesn't say much about it."
I shrugged. "He mostly keeps me and Melanie out of trouble. And he does all the paperwork, and watches the budget-stuff like that." Speaking of Melanie, she was late again.
Tara nodded. "Sometimes during the day, I try to imagine what he might be doing right at that moment. We don't get to see each other as often as I'd like, and it helps me miss him less."
I'd sometimes thought that way about Rob while he was at college, so I knew what she was talking about. I'd picture him in his math class, or hunkered down over a beaker, or taking a test. Since Thanksgiving, I hadn't allowed myself to daydream about him at all. Period. For any reason. All thoughts of Rob were strictly banished to the storeroom of my brain. So, why was I letting myself think about him now? I turned my attention to Tara. "What are your wedding colors?"
I didn't hear what she said-I actually didn't care. Wedding colors didn't matter to me. I just needed to stop thinking about Rob.
After the guys stopped using the floor as their personal chalkboard, it was time to start putting up the shelves. We hadn't bolted the first two in-just practiced taking them down and putting them back up-so I wasn't sure what we were in for. At first I was nervous. I wished Blake hadn't put me in charge of this project-I felt too responsible. What if something got really, seriously damaged? But when Chase brought in his super put-bolts-in-the-floor-of-the-new-library gizmo, I stopped being so concerned. Blake was right-Chase knew what he was doing. The gizmo was really loud and I clapped my hands over my ears, but it wasn't too much longer before a shelving unit was reassembled in the first row chalk-marked on the floor, and Chase invited me over to test it.
"Test it? Test it how?"
"Shake it, kick it-whatever you like." He grinned.
"Just make it a good test," Blake said. "He's dying to prove his mad skills."
I looked at Chase, then the shelves. I grabbed the unit and started to climb up the front, like a ladder.
"Careful," Tara called out.
I glanced down. Chase had a smirk on his face, the kind of smirk you get when your prowess is being tested and proven.
"Seems pretty strong to me," I said.
"Are you stopping there?" he asked.
I smiled and kept climbing until I had reached the summit. I sat on top of the unit and raised my arms in the victory sign, my knuckles hitting the ceiling. "Ouch."
"Okay, you know the shelf is secure. Time to come back down," Blake said.
"It's actually pretty nice up here. There's quite a view." I cupped my hands over my eyes and looked around. "You guys should come check it out."
"Hardy har har," Blake said. "Now would you please come down?"
"You don't doubt my craftsmanship, do you, Blake?" Chase asked, pretend hurt in his voice.
"No, not at all. But don't you read the paper, man? Fifteen percent of all accidental librarian deaths are caused by falling from the tops of bookshelves. This is not a safe industry."
I sighed. "Okay, Mr. Worrywart. I'll come down." As I prepared my descent, I realized this was actually one of the tallest cases we owned. We'd purposely put it on this side, farthest from the windows, to allow the light to come in from outside, and I was a good three feet higher than I would have been on any of the other shelves. I started to climb down, and it wasn't hard, but my ballet flat slipped and I had to throw my weight onto my other leg. Kind of served me right-I should have been wearing something a little more substantial in the dead of winter.
I regained my footing, but felt warm hands encircle my waist.
"It's okay. I've got you," Blake said in my ear as he helped me down the last two shelves.
When I reached the bottom, I turned on him, ready to say something snarky about not needing his help, but the expression on his face stopped me. He looked genuinely worried.
"Thanks," I said awkwardly. "Um, I was fine, you know."
"Yeah, I'm know. I just wanted to make sure."
We stood there silently for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. "How about lunch? On me. Tara, want to help me pick it up?"
"Sure." She rose from the floor, graceful even while doing such a traditionally ungraceful thing.
Blake pulled a paper out of his pocket and started jotting down a lunch order. I tried to ignore the warm spots on my waist where his hands had been-it had to be my imagination that I could still feel his touch. I didn't even like him.
"Addie? What do you want?"
His eyes were a little too intense for me. I turned and pretended to wipe a speck of dust from the shelf with my sleeve. "Oh, I dunno-the usual, I guess."
He made a note. "I don't know why I'm bothering to write this down. You're so predictable."
A moment later, he and Tara left, and Chase enlisted my help with the next shelf. We worked well together, I thought, and it really didn't come as a surprise to me when he asked me out. We decided on a time later in the week, and by the time Blake and Tara brought lunch, tucked in the little trunk on the back of his motorcycle, we had the details all mapped out. Blake didn't chastise me for my (probably) foolish ascent of the bookcase, and I tried to ignore the way Tara looked at me for the rest of the day.
Thanks for reading this chapter!
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Text Copyright © 2012 by Tristi Pinkston
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ISBN: 978-0-9838293-6-2