Page 14 of The Library of Second Chances
When Chloe held the book to him, he took it and left without another word. ‘Yeah. I’m on my way. Aye, that’s canny. Tell them . . .’
The large doors closed behind him and his voice faded. ‘See you, then,’ Chloe muttered beneath her breath. She hopedsomeone else would be manning the desk next time this Harry walked in.
She supposed she would have to check if they had the rest of the books in stock, but right now she couldn’t be bothered.
Later, when she was coming back from using the bathroom, a piece of paper caught Chloe’s eye. Frowning, she opened it to see a heart drawn in black ink. Beside it was a smiley face.
Who left this here?she thought, a bit annoyed, and threw it in the bin.
It was nearing noon when she was doing some paperwork and felt something tickle her nose. Dust, maybe. The familiar sensation rose, and as she was about to sneeze, she spotted something on the desk right by her hand. A box of tissues, one peeking out and ready to grab.
Chloe ripped it from the box and sneezed into it.
‘Bless you,’ said Eric, a new pile of books in his arms as he approached. ‘I just came in for my shift, if you’d like to take your lunch break.’
He must have grabbed the tissues while she was upstairs. She could have sworn they weren’t there a moment ago, though.
Shaking herself, Chloe thanked Eric and went out for her lunch, wondering whether Hannah was working today at the café. She wasn’t, but as Chloe waited in line, she looked at all the cakes and pastries they had available. They all looked delicious, and she loved the cosy warmth of this little place. Acoustic music filled the space and customers sat in couples or alone at tables, talking and sipping coffee. One man frowned at his laptop, a steaming black coffee beside him. A woman and her small son ate French toast together.
Outside, a man was parked, leaning out of his window to banter with a man he’d been driving past. A small smile reached Chloe’s face as she passed them, catching snippets of what musthave been private jokes. They laughed like old friends, then waved cheerfully to each other as they parted ways.
You don’t get that in a city.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHENCHLOE ARRIVEDback at the library, she worked at the computer a bit more, inputting several more books with Eric’s help. The hours slipped by, and as the mid-afternoon slump hit, she decided to make everyone a cup of tea. She was heading for the fridge when she almost bumped into Mrs Cook.
‘Hi, Mrs Cook. I was about to make a cuppa,’ she said. ‘Would you like one?’
‘Great minds certainly think alike. I was about to do the same.’ Mrs Cook beamed at her. The kettle was an old-fashioned metal one that clucked on the hob, the sound of the water heating strangely cosy.
‘We’ve got some new books coming in,’ said the librarian as she put teabags in the mugs. As with any good workplace, the library kitchen was always well stocked with coffee, tea, sugar and milk. ‘A few new releases from last year. They’ll be a great addition.’
‘Great,’ said Chloe, hoping to be able to borrow them herself. Buying books was all well and good until you had to fit them into a suitcase. She only owned one paperback at the moment, and she had almost finished reading it.
‘Would you like to have a chat, Chloe? There aren’t any customers here now, and if there are, Eric can sort them. Or would you rather be alone?’
‘Hm? Oh, no, I don’t mind.’ Chloe found herself a little flustered as she sat at the kitchen’s plastic dining table opposite the librarian, the mug warming her hands. She wonderedwhether to bring up what had happened since she had started working here: the night she had escaped here after her bad date, her conversation with the young man with the kilt. Would she sound insane by giving voice to what had happened? She took a sip of tea. Mrs Cook mirrored her, then let out a satisfied ‘aah’ that made Chloe giggle.
Chloe had mentioned her parents’ accident during her job interview, not wanting the subject of her family to pop up down the line and make anyone uncomfortable. But she realised she didn’t know much about Mrs Cook at all.
‘How long have you been a library manager?’ she asked her.
‘Oh, my. Almost forty years now.’ Mrs Cook smiled in reminiscence. ‘From long before we had computers, when we had to keep track of everything manually, with pen and paper. I’ve worked at libraries all over the place, but I’ve been at this one for nearly ten years. I’ve seen people work here, coming and going. Some just worked for the wage. Others, like you and Eric, really love books. It’s wonderful to see.’
‘Wow,’ said Chloe, trying to remember her time visiting this place as a child with her mother. The memories were hazy; in the past year, anything related to Mum and Dad had been shelved in a dark, cobwebby corner of her mind and were now difficult to grasp. She thought she had vague memories of this place, but she couldn’t be sure. ‘You must enjoy it a lot.’
‘Being surrounded by books all day.’ Mrs Cook’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. ‘What’s not to love?’
Chloe agreed. There was no denying she liked this job far more than her last one. As a matter of fact, more than any job she had ever had.
‘My husband never really understood it.’ Mrs Cook held her mug in her wrinkled hands, gazing at the wall as though lost in memories. ‘He did read sometimes, but he preferred sports.’
Chloe noted she used the past tense when she referred to her husband, and she felt a flicker of sadness for the elderly woman. ‘You’re alone, too?’ she said before she could stop herself.
‘Oh, he’s not dead, love,’ the librarian reassured her. ‘We divorced when we were in our forties. Rest assured, he’s living his best life somewhere in southeast Asia.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Oh.’ Chloe vaguely wondered whether he was rich and if he’d crossed paths with Gwen.Thatwould be weird. ‘So you’reMsCook?’
