Page 1 of Love in the Stacks
Chapter one
Nicole
“Look good, feel good,” I say aloud to my reflection in the mirror.
I need today to go perfectly at work, so I’m starting with my outfit, hair, and makeup on point. I carefully picked out the wide-leg trousers with subtle blue and white plaid stripes with a light gray background and paired them with a bright red eyelet blouse over a black cami. Silver ballet flats finish the look. It may be overkill for my position as a librarian at a small-town college, but I’m dressing to impress today.
I smooth over my hair with one hand as I give my reflection a final once-over. My naturally blonde hair is straight and chin-length, but for the last three months, it’s also been a soft purple color. I might change over to a new color before long, but so far, I really love the lavender. I know that colorful hair styles are at odds withwhat many people picture when they think of a librarian—most are still envisioning an older woman with gray hair pulled up in a bun, cat-eyeglasses on a beaded chain, and a scowling face all wrapped up in a cardigan sweater. But that’s not me, nor is it most of the real-life librarians I’ve worked with.
Okay, I do love a nice cardigan.
Today at our all-staff library meeting, I’m going to suggest adding a graphic novel collection, hence the nerves I’m trying to shake. Not sure you can get much farther from a 1950s shushing librarian than that.
I’ve worked at Parker Library on the Harkness College campus for about a year now, and while my boss, Herb, has been supportive and open-minded, the library—and the college itself—tend to lag a bit behind the times. I’ve prepared my case for why a graphic novel collection would be beneficial, including citing examples of libraries at larger colleges and universities that have done the same, but I’m not sure what kind of reception to expect.
I glance around my apartment to make sure I’m not forgetting anything, then I lock the door and practically skip down the steps in my nervous energy. I rent an apartment on the second floor of a converted bungalow three blocks from the college campus, and so far, I haven’t needed a car. It’s a relief for my bank account which is already balancing student loans in addition to typical things like rent, utilities, and food.
Adulting is hard.
I intend to spend the ten-minute walk to work in downtown St. Anastasia going over the bullet points of my proposal, but asI breathe the early morning air, my senses are distracted by the picturesque scenes around me. The historic, downtown area that’s home to Harkness College is flooded with tourists, restaurants, art galleries and museums, and cultural and historical sites, all right on the water. It has narrow, brick streets more reminiscent of European towns than a city in Florida. A typical suburban business district with box stores, fast food restaurants, and businesses surrounds the downtown area in short driving distance, but the character and personality of St. Anastasia all reside within the approximately ten square miles encompassing the official “city” limits.
I fell in love with those ten square miles and with the beautiful campus of Harkness College when I traveled from Texas to interview a year and a half ago. Before that, I had been working as an outreach librarian at the Austin Public Library, where I landed my first job out of library school—that is, my master’s degree program for library and information science. A mixture of wanting something new outside of the city where I’d lived my whole life and a pull to be part of a college campus again had my eyes wandering to job ads for librarian positions in academia. Getting away from my long-term college boyfriend—now ex—was also pretty appealing at the time.
I scan my badge to open the back employee entrance to the library. As I enter the staff break room, my eyes land on Tasha, one of our regular student workers, with her eyes closed, resting her head on the table.
“Rough night?” I ask, nudging her gently.
She grumbles and lifts her head, shaking out her black curls. A crease from the table edge marks the deep brown skin across herforehead. “I had a paper due today that I may have put off until the last minute. I was up way too late finishing it.”
“What about?”
“The intersection of feminism and race in theater in the 1990s,” she responds, her brown eyes crinkling.
“Oh, so nothing too heavy?” I tease.
Tasha is an English major in her junior year with a minor in theater. She’s considering a career in libraries, so she’s around a lot, even when she’s not working. She smiles. “Nah, just a BS piece really.”
She eyes me up and down before adding, “You’re dressed up today. Any reason?”
“Yes,” I say breathily as I sit down next to her. “At the team meeting today, I’m going to pitch my graphic novel idea. I’m nervous but like an excited nervous.”
“Oh, is that the idea you were talking about a couple of weeks ago? Starting a graphic novel collection?”
“Yeah. I love graphic novels, and I just see so many ways they could tie into the curriculum for the English, art, and even history courses. Plus, it would be a fun way to get students excited about the library.”
“Sounds cool.” Tasha grins. “Let me know if you need a student testimonial.”
“You’re teasing. But actually, that would be pretty helpful. Can you email me a quote?”
Just then, the cataloging librarian walks in, making a beeline for the coffeemaker with his mug.
“Good morning,” he nods.
“Good morning, Alex,” I respond. He cocks his head at me but doesn’t say anything else.
As he leaves the room again, I can feel Tasha watching me. “What?” I ask.
“You know his name is Adam, right?” Her eyebrows rise as she puts a hand on her hip.
