Checked Out Read online

  “It’s okay . . . I’ve got this,” I said, trying to convince myself by sounding confident. “As long as it’s not the adult craft class, right? You know how that turned out last time.”

  “The mosaics? Yes. The library board has decided you’re banned in future from teaching craft-related programs,” said Wilson dryly.

  I winced at the memory. I’d been too gung-ho to think I could fill in for our program volunteer, who’d been out with the flu. In hindsight, we should simply have rescheduled the class. “Perhaps a less messy program would have been a better segue for me. Making wreaths, or something. Mother Goose storytime will be a cinch in comparison,” I said.

  “The bubbles are in the closet,” said Wilson, with a chuckle.

  “Bubbles, right.” The toddlers were used to having bubbles blown at the start and end of storytime as a way of getting them into the mindset. I only hoped the bubble machine, finicky at the best of times, was in excellent working condition or the storytime couldn’t possibly be redeemed.

  “It’s a nine o’clock event,” said Wilson pointedly.

  “And that’s my cue,” I said as I hurried off.

  After I set up the books, bubble machine, and CDs in the community room, I walked over to the circulation desk to check out a patron who was having trouble with self-checkout. I saw a handwritten note on a scrap piece of paper on the desk. It read: FYI, the cats belonged to Elsie Brennon. Unfortunately, she’s recently deceased and the cats have no current home. I glanced around the library as I handed the patron her books. I spotted Linus Truman, a regular, looking my way before he hastily glanced down at his book again. Despite the fact Linus was here every day, he never engaged with the librarians. It made sense if the note was from him . . . he wanted to help out, but didn’t want to get pulled into conversation.

  Then it was time for storytime. The amazing thing was that it went off much better than I could possibly have hoped. I knew the books would work well . . . I absolutely loved Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. The kids were adorable and the storytime itself was fun, if chaotic, with a roomful of toddlers. The only problem I usually had was with the moms. For some reason, this particular group of moms was very demanding, without a single laid-back mom in the group. This might be because they were a lot of first-time moms in the storytime. And if I wasn’t completely prepared (as I wasn’t this time) with not just books but songs and crafts, then the moms would let me know about it.

  Before I joined the moms and toddlers who were already filling the room, I glanced back at our computer room hesitantly. Sure enough, there was a dad in there in with a toddler, same as there had been every day this week. He was waiting each morning when the library opened—said that he was job hunting because he’d lost his job last week.

  I stuck my head through the glass doors of the room. He was focused on a job board while his little girl played with a doll on the floor next to him. “Hey, we’re about to have storytime. Do you think your daughter might want to take part?”

  He brightened. “That would be great. Except—I should be looking for jobs. I look in the morning and try to get to interviews in the afternoon.”

  “No problem. I can keep an eye on her for you,” I said. I held out my hand to her, and she trustingly held onto it with her little hand. This definitely wasn’t protocol. Library policy dictated each child should be accompanied by at least one caretaker. But that way the little girl could do something fun while her dad focused on finding work.

  Somehow, I’d managed to get into the rhythm of the program this time. The bubble machine had gone off without a hitch and the toddlers danced around in delight, their little faces turned ecstatically up to the bubbles gently floating around them. The toddler girl from the computer room looked around in wonder at the bubbles, tentatively putting her hand out to touch any that came close.

  I’d also pulled out an old CD player that was still loaded with a toddler CD and regaled the group with The Wheels on the Bus and Head, Shoulder, Knees, and Toes. We sang along together in between the books, which gave them the opportunity to move around and not have to sit still for too long. It is always good to get your wiggles out when you’re a little kid.

  I was just about to pull out a third book, the marvelous Moo, Baa, La La La!, when there was a tap at the glass door. I looked up and froze. There stood our friendly neighborhood vet from yesterday with two crates and two cats.

  “Are those cats?” asked a tall mom, eyes narrowed, in the tone one might use to say there are rabid coyotes in the building.

  Chapter Four

  I WINCED. THIS WAS a mom who’d proven difficult to deal with in the past. She was a stickler for rules and had complained to the circulation desk before about various patrons who’d fallen asleep in the armchairs near the fireplace and people in the computer room who had drinks without lids on them.

  All the mothers and most of the toddlers turned when the mom asked about the cats. In response, I quickly turned on the bubble machine and the CD player in the hopes of creating a massive distraction, excused myself, and stepped out of the room. Fortunately, the dad from the computer room showed up at that moment to collect his daughter.

  “Thanks!” he said to me, gratitude in his eyes. “I’ve got a lead so I’m gonna call them and see if I can get an interview.”

  “Great! She loved storytime. And she was good as gold,” I said.

  As he took his daughter away, I sang out, “I’ll be right back,” to the women in the room behind me, not sure it was actually true.

  “How are they doing?” I asked, stooping to peer into the crates one by one. I couldn’t help myself—the sight of their little furry faces made me smile. The surprising thing was that both of them appeared very relaxed.

  The vet grinned at me. “They are doing incredibly well. Your orange cat is the friendliest and most laid-back cat ever. And the tabby is such a sweetheart. They make me wish I didn’t already have four cats of my own at home.” She frowned. “It’s still okay that I brought them here, isn’t it?” She glanced at the group of moms through the door.

  “Oh yes, it’s fine. We’ll keep them both here until we figure out what to do. A patron just told me they belonged to an elderly lady who’d died.”

  The vet nodded, “I didn’t see any microchips, but they both seemed well-fed and healthy. And . . . a bonus! They both appear to be litter box trained.”

  “I believe I’d heard Mrs. Brennon was in a car accident a couple of weeks ago. They haven’t been on their own for very long,” I said.

  “Medically, they’re both in great shape. I’ve given them their shots and they’re both fixed now. I guess their previous owner hadn’t gotten around to doing that yet. The mama cat, because I do feel she’s the orange cat’s mother, will need to take it easy with her broken leg, but it set really well and I don’t foresee any problems at all for her,” said the vet.

  “Perfect. Thank you. Here, I’ll open the door to the lounge area and we’ll keep the cats in here.” I hesitated. “I really want to let the cats out when I can help them get acclimated. But I still need to wrap up my storytime. Could you leave the crates with me if I return them later?” I asked. I pushed some of my dark hair out of my eyes. Great. I was perspiring now.

  “That’s fine with me—I have a ton of them,” said the vet. “Thanks again.”

  I walked back to the room and opened the door, giving everyone a flustered and apologetic grin. “Sorry about that,” I started.

  The tall mom again asked, “Hey, were those cats?”

  I gave her a bright smile as if there were always cats populating the Whitby Library. “Indeed they were. Now, how about another song . . . and some bubbles?”

  But even I could tell storytime was completely wrecked.

  “Could we see the cats?” asked the mom. “By the way, I’m Lisa. I know we’ve talked before, but I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.”

  I blinked at her. I’d assum
ed she’d been asking about the cats because she’d wanted to complain about them. “See them?”

  A small, blonde mom said, “My daughter loves cats. Could you bring them into the room?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but they’ve had a rough couple of days.” I gave them a quick version of the cats’ traumatic rescue. “And the vet has just brought them back from being fixed. The one cat has her leg set and needs to take it easy for a little bit.”

  Lisa said in a decisive tone, “You know what you should do? You should let them be library cats. Or at least one of them.”

  The blonde mom said to her, “Wouldn’t that be so cool? The kids could cuddle with the cats and read stories to them. And it just sort of fits a library, doesn’t it? So cozy. A cat, a bunch of books, and a fireplace. Sounds like heaven!”

  “I don’t think that’s something the library is considering right now,” I said evenly. But I felt my heart sink a little as I said it. Wilson was the boss, but I hoped he changed his mind about having a cat or two in the library. There was something about those two that really tugged at my heartstrings.

  “You’re looking for homes for them, then. Well, we’ll consider one of them, for sure. The poor things. And we’ve been wanting to adopt an adult cat, too. Are they litter box trained?” asked Lisa briskly.

  This was something I hadn’t even considered . . . litter box training. And, with the way the blind date had gone last night, the cats had been forced out of my mind. At least I had a bit of litter and a smattering of food that the patron had brought in yesterday.

  “The vet said they’d both used a litter box while they were at the vet’s office last night. To be honest, we’re not really set up with supplies here, at least, not many of them,” I admitted. “The last twenty-four hours have been pretty chaotic.”

  Lisa didn’t offer any judgement on my forgetfulness, but jumped into action. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Janine, you can watch Sarah for me, right? I’m going to run to the store real quick and get you all set up.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said weakly, but she was already striding out of the room toward the library exit.

  The blonde mom, who was apparently Janine, trundled little Sarah off to play with her son on the computers in the children’s section. Storytime was effectively over and I hurried back to the lounge to see the cats.

  I hoped they’d used their litter boxes recently because I wanted to let them out to slowly in the lounge to acclimate to their environment. But first I printed out a warning sign for the lounge door to say that the cats were on the loose and to be careful not to let them out. I had no intention of having them roam the library when they were in an unfamiliar place and might bolt.

  Then I knelt down on the floor, crooning to the cats. Both of them seemed remarkably nonchalant about their current situation. I opened the door on the orange cat’s crate first. He came out, purring and rubbing against me. Then he hopped up into my lap as I knelt and reached his head up to bump it against my neck. I couldn’t help it . . . I was falling in love with this little guy.

  Then I opened the door to the tabby’s crate, and she came out with the same sangfroid, giving chatty little mews as she did. She walked a bit awkwardly with her leg in the cast, but seemed not to be in any pain at all.

  Both cats strolled around the large room for several minutes. The lounge was a comfortable space with literary-themed posters, tables for librarians to eat snacks or their lunches, a small fridge and microwave, and some African violets on the sill of the large window that looked out on the library’s front lawn. I made a quick online search to ensure the plants were safe for cats to be around and sighed with relief that they were. The cats, after sniffing and exploring, settled in the big sunbeam on the floor of the room. After licking themselves and each other for several minutes, they both curled up next to each other and drifted off to sleep.

  At least, they drifted off until there was a peremptory knock at the door. I stifled a groan. The only person who’d knock at the door would be a patron, not a librarian. And that could mean anything could be wrong. I opened the door and saw Lisa there, holding several large bags. She’d apparently conscripted some male patron to help her unload her car, and he set down several large shopping bags of his own.

  “Thank you!” said Lisa briskly, without turning to look at the man. She glanced at the empty crates and then immediately looked to the sunbeam. “Oh, they’re just precious,” she whispered.

  The cats lifted their heads to look at her as if recognizing adoration when they heard it. The tabby cat struggled to her feet and then stumbled toward Lisa, purring.

  Lisa hurried toward her so she didn’t have to walk. “Oh my gosh. This cat is absolutely amazing! After all she’s been through and she’s this friendly? I’d be hiding in a corner somewhere if it had been me.”

  I smiled at her as I unpacked the plastic shopping bags. I saw Lisa had purchased dry and moist cat food, toys, beds, and another litter box. Whoever she was, she had a good heart. And, apparently, deep pockets.

  “My husband and I have been planning to head to the shelter to find a cat for a while,” said Lisa as she rubbed the tabby. “We just haven’t gotten out there yet. This cat seems perfect. What can you tell me about her?”

  I shook my head, “Not very much, I’m afraid. Just that the vet said she doesn’t have any microchips. Another patron said the cats belonged to an elderly lady who recently passed away. The tabby had her shots and is fixed. I can tell you the tabby is supposed to stay quiet for a little while. She’s likely the mother of the orange cat, according to the vet.”

  Lisa said, “I’m happy to reimburse the library for her medical care. I was wondering if my husband and I could take her home?” She looked at me with a hopeful look, the bossiness from earlier gone.

  I hesitated to think it through for a minute. I knew Wilson wanted the cats out of the library, pronto. Lisa seemed as if she’d be a responsible pet owner—had, actually, already proven herself to be a responsible pet owner. And maybe it would be best for the cat to adjust to her forever home instead of getting used to the library only to be moved again. Besides, the tabby and Lisa appeared to be having a lovefest. The cat was in heaven as Lisa tickled her gently under her chin.

  I smiled at her. “I think that would be perfect. And no worries about the vet bill—the vet did the work gratis. The only thing I need you to do is to return the crate to the vet when you can. The vet’s name is written on the crate. And please take some of the cat equipment home.”

  “Thank you!” breathed Lisa. “I’m in here all the time, as you know, so I’ll give you updates. And I’ll give her a literary name that honors her history here.”

  “Great!” I said.

  Wilson stuck his head in the door of the lounge and blinked in surprise at Lisa and the two cats. Lisa glanced up. “I’m on my way out, I promise. And I’m taking one of the cats off your hands, too.”

  “That’s great,” said Wilson in relief. He glanced down, bemused, at the orange cat sprawled out in a sunbeam. To me, he said, “The new children’s librarian is here.”

  Excellent. “What is her name again?”

  Wilson said, “Luna Macon. Could you do me a favor and show her around the library? I have a meeting I need to leave for.”

  I nodded and Wilson left.

  Lisa gave the tabby another rub and then stood to push aside the blinds that gave the lounge area privacy from the rest of the library. “Wow,” she said slowly. Then she grinned at me as she dropped the blinds back in place.

  “Wow?” I asked weakly. I have always, always been wowed by children’s librarians, but usually just in terms of how well they did their jobs.

  Lisa said, “Let’s just say I have the feeling storytime just got a little bit cooler. No offense.”

  “None taken,” I responded automatically. I stood up too and pushed aside the blinds. There was a woman I’d never seen before, not in the town of Whitby, nor
in the library. She had purple-streaked hair, a pierced nose, and sported black fingernail polish. There were tattoos peeking out from her black top (her black slacks were long enough to cover everything that might have poked out). I quickly dropped the blinds before she could turn and see me. Luna did look like she’d be bringing the cool factor to the Whitby Library.

  “I’d better give my tour,” I said quickly, giving Lisa a smile. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and jotted out my name and phone number. “If you have any problems or any second thoughts at all about taking the tabby home, just call me. This is my cell number. If I’m at work, it may just take me a few minutes to get back to you.”

  Lisa took the paper, folded it, and put it in her pocket. “I’ll keep this to keep you updated. But I know this little sweetie is a keeper.”

  I stepped out of the lounge and took a deep breath. I walked up to the middle-aged woman with a smile. “Luna Macon?” I asked.

  She turned and bestowed me with the warmest, most genuine smile I’d ever seen. A gold tooth winked at me as she did. “That’s right. You must be Ann. I’m so sorry about this morning and being a no-show. What a way to start a job, right?”

  I said, “Don’t worry about it. Believe me, it happens. Would you like me to show you around the library?”

  “I’d love it,” said Luna. “I haven’t been here since I was a teenager and that’s been a while, as you see.” She laughed, and it was the infectious type that I couldn’t help but respond to.

  “Oh, did you grow up here?” I asked as we started walking toward the circulation desk.

  She nodded. “Sure did. Then I moved away to—well, originally to New York, but then to a bunch of other places. Then back to New York. My mom is in poor health and that’s why I’m back now. And why I was running late this morning.” Although she was still smiling, I could see she looked tired and stressed.