Page 30 of The Overdue Kiss

One of the ladies steps forward to block my exit. The pocket of her fluorescent jacket reads “Eden.” She lifts her thick, dark shades into her mop of gray hair while she eyes me through another pair of glasses still perched on her nose. “Are you the one Birdie is looking for?”

It sounds more like an accusation than a question.

Birdie? Not sure who that is... or if that’s a bird-watching code.

“I’m not sure. I’m Maya.”

“Are you this mystery girl we’re supposed to be searching for?”

I blink. “I—I don’t think so.”

“Just to be safe, maybe you tell us a little more about yourself.”

Once I explain in detail who I am, why I’m here, and how long I’m staying and where, they are nothing but sweet smiles. Meanwhile, my shopping bag is practically slipping from my sweaty fingers.

Eden loops her arm through mine—like the thirty-minute interrogation never happened—to escort me the rest of the way to the library. Otherwise known as ten steps across the street. The rest of the ladies follow behind us like a gaggle of pink geese, each one talking over the others that I can’t keep up.

“Oh, we’ve heard about you,” says a lady with a matching pink scarf around her neck.

“A librarian! What an odd career choice,” the tallest one in the back says.

“Your curly hair is so full and thick. Is that natural?” asks a soft-spoken woman with bright red lipstick.

“My granddaughter loves to read and lives in Golden too. Her name is Jessica. Do you know her?” says the one on my right with “Kitty” on her pocket.

“Are you married? My son divorced last month. I could give you his number,” says another, their faces beginning to blur together.

I swallow nervously and eye the library door in desperation.

“Ladies, ladies.” Eden holds up her hands to silence them. “Too many questions at once. She’ll think we never have visitors in Rocosa.”

“Thank you for the warm welcome though. Are you all in a club or something?”

“Oh, yes. We play bingo every other Thursday at the church. But we also wear these on our daily walks when we patrol the streets.”

“We can’t be too careful, you know,” Eden says. “The sheriff can’t be everywhere at once, so we self-appointed ourselves as deputies to keep an eye on things.”

“I caught one of the kids skipping school once. Not on my watch, young man!” says the woman whose pocket reads “Myrtle.”

Struck by inspiration, I turn to address all the ladies behind me. “Do you all use the library here often?”

Their chuckles are concerning.

“No, sweetie. Not unless you are looking for the dusty old tomes.”

“They don’t have new releases?” We send Rocosa’s branch boxes of our overstock, including new releases that we have a surplus of. So why are they all shaking their heads?

“Sometimes I stop in there if I need an afternoon nap before bingo starts. It’s dim and quiet on the second floor.”

“What a fib, Kitty. We all know you really go in there to see Mr. Sherman,” Eden says, raising her pale eyebrows.

“I didn’t say a nap was all I was up to.” She fluffs the ends of her white hair with a sassy flick.

The ladies giggle around me.

“So, you don’t attend the library events?” I ask.

“What events?” another woman says.

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