Page 59 of The Library of Second Chances
‘What was that?’ she asked aloud. The library’s lights flashed brightly for a moment and a sigh that smelled like lavender washed over her.
Mrs Cook had been in a great mood ever since the event with the schoolchildren. Hannah’s café was enjoying some more publicity too, according to her excited messages and photos of the little eatery being full to bursting. We keep running out of cheesecake she texted Chloe. This is amazing. We HAVE to do this again.
‘Maybe we should plan something for Christmas, now it’s coming up,’ said Mrs Cook happily, as she cleaned up the lobby desk. Clementine had perked up and was back to his usual self, watching them from his spot on top of the shelf after eating from his feeder. ‘We could get some tinsel, gather some of the books with a Christmas theme, and have a reading. Ooh, I think there’sa local author living in Kendall, I should check. Hannah could make mince pies. Could you ask her when you see her, Chloe?’
Chloe responded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, half thinking about what the strange man had said before leaving so abruptly that there hadn’t been time to process his words and ask more questions. No doubt he knew Harry and held some kind of grudge against him. What had he meant by whosefaultit was?
Chloe hadn’t asked how Harry’s wife, Julie, had died. She had assumed, since she must have been young, that it had been an accident like Chloe’s parents. She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight as fear curdled in her stomach.
‘Chloe, are you all right?’ Mrs Cook looked alarmed. ‘You don’t look well. Are you feeling poorly?’
‘I . . .’ Despair filled Chloe. When she had first met Harry, she hadn’t liked him. Found him annoying and rude. What if he had used his charms to attract her and made her like him, but he wasn’t really a very nice person at all? What if he was dangerous? She had gotten into his car, let him kiss her . . .
‘I am feeling a bit sick, yes,’ she said faintly.
Mrs Cook made a sympathetic noise. ‘You can take the rest of the day off, if you need to.’ She was so kind it made tears spring to Chloe’s eyes. She turned to quickly brush them away before the librarian could see.
The thought of going home and being alone with her thoughts was worse than staying and trying to keep herself busy. Chloe knew what she needed right now: somebody to talk to. Someone who didn’t know Harry and who wouldn’t judge her. ‘No, I think I’m okay, actually.’ She sniffled. ‘I’m going to go upstairs for a bit and, uh . . .’ She couldn’t think of a task that would take her to the fiction archives.
‘You go, dear.’ Mrs Cook nodded knowingly. ‘Sometimes we do need some time alone in thefictionsection, hmm?’ Her warmgreen eyes turned towards the ceiling. ‘Give her a couple of choices, won’t you?’
Something rippled in the library. Like a confirmation.
‘Thanks,’ said Chloe, grateful. ‘I won’t be long. And if you need me . . .’
‘I’ll call you.’ Mrs Cook was already sitting at the computer. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for, Chloe.’
Chloe hurried to the spiral staircase in the next room that led up to the fiction section. Clementine followed her, his bell jangling. Nobody was here now, almost as if the library had ensured the place would be empty for this moment. Chloe strode past Clementine’s corner, and the cat jumped onto his bed, watching as Chloe wandered the shelves.
Mrs Cook’s request had been heard in the library. Many of the books glowed, golden rectangles among the romance, fantasy, and even mystery sections. Curious, she picked up a large hardback in the latter section, giving a small smile. Ah, yes. A genius detective from London should be able to help. She needed objective advice and logic right now.
She read out the first line from the book, picturing firmly in her mind the character she needed. Then felt the familiar breath of magic wash over her and a new presence nearby.
‘Oh.’ A shuffle. ‘Oh dear.’
There he was. ‘Sir?’ she asked, stepping into the next aisle.
He was taller than she had expected, his thin physique making him look even more so. A deerstalker cap sat atop a head of dark hair. Alert eyes fixed on her over a hawk-like nose.
‘Hello, detective,’ she said politely. She still held the book in her hands. She tucked it beneath her arm. ‘I was wondering if you could help me with something.’
‘Well, I suppose I’m not doing much else at the moment.’ He straightened, fixing her with an analysing look. ‘How can I help?’
They went to sit on the armchairs by the window. Well, Chloe sat, while the London detective examined the curtains and floors with a thoughtful look. Chloe didn’t see the point in meandering around the subject. She told him all about Harry, her growing feelings for him, Julie, and what the strange man had said to her this morning.
‘So the question is, how do I approach this to get the truth?’ she asked the detective. ‘Do I risk it, or should I stop talking to him?’ Despite the fears the stranger’s words had inspired in her, the thought of cutting Harry off made her chest squeeze with misery.
‘If you ask him yourself, he could lie,’ observed the detective. ‘Hmm. Maybe you need to catch him off guard. Don’t ask him any specific questions. Did the man say who he was? Perhaps he is the one lying.’
Chloe knew all this, but somehow it was nice to hear it come from someone else’s mouth. ‘I suppose he could be a competitor, but it seems like a lot of trouble to go to just to spoil a new relationship.’ A relationship Harry didn’t want people to know about. Was there a reason for that, other than him not being ready for people to know he was moving on from his late wife?
‘Well, one thing is for certain. You must ask him. Gauge his reaction and hear his explanation.’ The detective rummaged in his jacket pocket, then his face fell in dismay. ‘I don’t have my pipe with me.’
‘Sorry about that. Smoking isn’t allowed in this library.’ Chloe rose to her feet. ‘It’s all right. I’m sending you back now. Thank you for your help.’
‘Another important case solved,’ the detective said drily. He tipped his hat as she smiled at him, flipping to the back of the book.
The detective had said what Chloe needed to hear. She wasn’t going to be a cliché like in a bad romance novel, avoiding thetopic and breaking her own heart by simply not talking to Harry and asking him his side of the story outright. Miscommunication tropes were so out. Chloe whipped out her phone to text him, and then hesitated.
