Page 59 of Threads of Kindness
“Are you ready?” Anita asked.
Gordon nodded. “Let’s pull our scarves up over our noses. We’ll talk once we’ve finished transferring the machines to your car.”
“I’ll leave it running and the heater on full blast,” Anita said.
They each pulled their knitted caps down over their ears and wrapped their scarves over their noses. Both of them wore down-filled gloves and puffer coats.
Anita unlocked the shop while Gordon opened the hatchback. Working together, they quickly stowed fourteen sewing machines in the back of Anita’s SUV. She began repositioning them to make room for the fifteenth.
Gordon waved her off, pulling his scarf down to speak. “I’ll hold the last one on my lap,” he said.
She nodded, and he hoisted the final machine. Anita locked the back door to Archer’s Bridal, and they each reclaimed their spot in the front seat.
Anita turned to face Gordon and laughed as she pulled off her fogged-up glasses. She dug a tissue from her coat pocket to wipe away the condensation that formed the moment she stepped from the frigid air into the warm car.
“Can I have one of those?” Gordon asked, extending a hand. “My nose hairs froze in the short time it took me to say that one sentence to you.” He blew his nose.
Anita pulled out of the parking area and headed toward the Highpointe College Library. “I’m glad they got the roof at my new building done when they did,” she said. “Sam told me the roofers won’t work in this weather.”
“Having a new furnace is helpful, too,” Gordon said. “The interior work can now move forward.”
“They’re supposed to start refinishing the wood floors next week.”
“How long will that take?”
“Sam thinks it’ll be a week, give or take.”
“Remodeling that space is coming along fast,” Gordon said. “Other than a delay in getting the air-conditioning unit, you’ve completed everything on schedule.”
“And under budget,” Anita added. She gestured toward the temperature display on the dashboard. “A delay in installing the air conditioning won’t be a problem for a long time.”
Gordon chuckled. “I think good luck has blessed your project from start to finish—and nobody deserves that more than you.”
“I have to admit,” Anita said, “I’m encouraged. I was worried about what was in those crates in the basement, but that turned out to be something interesting to add to the museum. With that drama behind us, I believe everything will go smoothly from now on.”
They pulled into the employee parking lot behind the library. Sunday’s car was the only other car there. Anita backed up to the loading dock, just as Sunday had directed.
We’re here,Anita texted.
The metal double doors swung open, casting a bright rectangle of light into the pre-dawn darkness. Sunday stood outlined against the glow. Clad from head to toe in sturdy rubber boots and a thick down jacket with the hood tied close to her head, she looked like a miniature Michelin Man.
Anita and Gordon leapt from the car, and the three of them quickly transferred the sewing machines onto rolling carts waiting inside. Sunday slammed the double doors shut behind them, cutting off the icy air.
“Should I move my car?” Anita asked.
“It’s fine,” Sunday replied, stamping her feet to warm them. “I checked with Lyla—we’re not expecting any deliveries until this afternoon. I don’t want to send you back out in that weather if I don’t have to.”
“Thank you,” Anita said.
“Let’s roll these carts to the exhibit space,” Sunday said. “With the three of us, it’ll only take two trips. Follow me.”
Sunday led them through the deserted library to the exhibit hall. The room was warm, and they shed their outer layers.
“I’ve never been in a library before it opened,” Anita said, glancing around as they returned for the second group of carts. “It’s so peaceful.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Gordon said. “It’s also got an anticipatory energy. Like the moment the conductor taps his wand on the music stand before the orchestra begins to play.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” Sunday said. “As soon as the doors open, the magic begins. Knowledge is the most powerful force for good in the world. I know we have the internet now, but libraries are still the worldwide repositories of information. The written word has contributed to the formation of the middle class.” She stopped abruptly. “Sorry. I’m going on and on.”
