Page 34 of The Library of Second Chances
Feeling a bit silly, Chloe cleared her throat and said, ‘Hi, um, library. I’m sorry your roof is leaking. It’s going to get fixed tomorrow. By people who work for Harry. You like him, don’t you?’
Nearby, the curtains fluttered in response, making a grin slowly spread on Chloe’s face. The windows were closed, so there was no breeze to cause the curtains to move, but it didn’t scare her. It made her feel reassured. She wandered up the corridor back towards the leak, where she watched the water drip down.Every ten seconds or so, a fat droplet would drip into the bucket with a soft plink.
‘We have to keep you in top shape,’ she said. ‘We’ve got an event coming up soon. Lots of kids reading children’s books, like Lily did.’
The library seemed to shiver with delight, a rush of warmth washing over Chloe. It ruffled her hair, making her laugh. ‘I’m looking forward to it, too.’
She double-checked the reception desk was clean and tidy, and spotted something on the desk. A folded piece of paper.
Huffing, Chloe picked it up. It was identical to the note she had found before, a torn page of notebook paper folded in half. She opened it.
I like you.
Chloe read it again, the three simple words written on the page in thin, elegant writing.
She had brushed them off as forgotten rubbish before, but . . . was someone leaving her notes?
How childish, she thought. She slipped it into her pocket, wondering if it was Harry who was leaving the notes, if it was some kind of joke.
After switching off all the lights, giving Clementine one last scratch behind his ears and locking up the library, Chloe remembered she didn’t have anything to read tonight. Not unless she was going to try to decipher the text among the wine stains in her book.
There weren’t any books in her parents’ house. She had an e-reader, but it wasn’t the same as holding a paperback. She would have to rectify that.
No. What was the point in starting a collection if she was leaving soon? She had to stop thinking of this arrangement, her staying at Mum and Dad’s, like it was permanent. She should sellthe house and use the money to get a nice place by a city where she could start a new career. There wasn’t anything to keep her in this town.
Not even a job that she was starting to love.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHLOE LOOKED UPat the stars in the sky, only a few clouds drifting by. It indeed looked like it was going to be a dry night. She picked up a frozen meal from the supermarket, hesitated, then bought one for Gwen as well. It seemed mean to ignore her.
When she entered her home, the scent of cinnamon hit her. ‘Gwen?’ she called, hearing music. Her stomach dropped. If her sister had destroyed the kitchen again . . .
‘In here,’ Gwen called. Chloe stepped into the kitchen.
It was clean, only a glass mixing bowl and spoon in the sink. ‘I made cinnamon rolls,’ said Gwen, pulling off some oven mitts. ‘I didn’t know what time you’d be back, but I think I timed it quite well.’
‘Ah. Did they . . . uh, turn out okay?’ Chloe pulled off her jacket and draped it over the chair at the dining room table. A tray sat on it, covered with a clean tea towel.
‘I think they did.’ Gwen was wearing a simple dress, her blonde hair straightened. It glimmered in the kitchen light.
‘I bought dinner.’ Chloe held up her shopping bag. ‘Though maybe you’ve eaten already?’
Gwen hadn’t, so they ate together. Though they were being polite to each other, there was still a strained silence between them. Chloe tried to think of something to say. With people like Hannah, topics came up with ease and you could chat for hours. But with Gwen, who daintily ate her steaming food while staring at the wall, Chloe struggled to findanythingto talk about.
She supposed years of bitterness couldn’t be cured with cinnamon rolls and frozen lasagne.
‘This is so much better than the Brown Slop of Doom I made yesterday,’ Gwen remarked, holding up a forkful of instant lasagne.
Chloe smirked. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything.’
It was almost annoying how beautiful the cinnamon rolls had turned out. ‘Where did you learn to bake these?’ Chloe asked around a huge mouthful. The dough was perfectly set, the result light and fluffy with a hint of sweetness. She and Hannah could compare notes.
She supposed her sister would say she’d learnt to bake in France or Austria or something, but Gwen held up her phone. ‘Good old Google.’
They washed up together as well, Chloe washing and Gwen drying, like when they were teenagers. Some days they would laugh and chatter. But those felt like centuries ago. The evenings that stood out most in Chloe’s mind right now were the ones when they’d bickered. Chloe would purposely put soapy dishes on the rack to annoy Gwen. Gwen would declare that she would wait until they were dry and make herself a cup of tea while Chloe glared at her, elbow deep in soapy water.
Soon the dishes were dried and put away, the remaining cinnamon rolls in a Tupperware box in the fridge. ‘Chloe . . .’ said Gwen, fidgeting. ‘I got you something.’
