The Book Waitress (Book 1, The Book Waitress Series) (2 page)

“Here goes everything,” she mumbled, and turned the key in the lock.
The house
seemed to
sigh with a whoosh of air as she opened the door.

She
made
a quick scan of the space before her and smiled genuinely for the first time that day. What a charming space!
Scooting further into the room, she
fell in love. The style of the fully furnished
cottage
pleased her sense of whimsy. An oversized
, white
couch and chair flanked a small fireplace
,
its mantel loaded with
k
nick-
k
nacks of fairies, goblins, elves, and gnome statuettes.
She inspected each one, their unique designs reminding her of all the fantasy stories she’d read over the years. The ones that either comforted her when she felt down or allowed her to escape from the pain of reality.
Gas lamps on doilies adorned the
maple side tables, and on the far end, waiting patiently to be discovered, were bookshelves overflowing with books.

Camille w
asted no time dropping her back
pack to the floor and raced over to see what gems lay nestled to
gether waiting for her perusal. Books. They would be her saviors while she transitioned
in
to this whole new world, alone.
Non-fiction, classics, suspense, horror, and romance novels co-mingled on every shelf, no rhyme or reason. She’d fix that.

A telephone rang, and at first, it didn’t register in her brain that it came from inside the house. But the insistent shrill
urged her to locate and answer it before she went mad.
Racing around like a lunatic, she found
it in the kitchen,
and scurried
to pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Camille? This is Nancy W
estin
, the library supervisor. I just wanted to see if you’ve settled in yet. We
need
you down here as soon as possible.”

“Oh, well, I’m here. Just arrived, in fact. Haven’t had a chance to unpack my bag. But if you need me that badly, I’ll come straight away.”

“Please do.
It’s a mess since Caroline left us.”

“I passed the library on my way here, so I know exactly where to go and how far it is. It shouldn’t take me longer than a few minutes
to walk over after I’ve freshened up a bit.”

“No freshening up necessary. We’ll see you shortly.”
Nancy’s terse command and pinched voice sent chills up and down Camille’s spine.

Just as she was going to respond, she heard a click
and scoffed
. “Looks like
someone’s
forgotten her phone etiquette.
And
I have to work with
this
lovely person
?
I
really
dislike people.”
She
sighed and
trudged upstairs to
her new
bedroom.

Despite the urgency in Nancy’s voice, Camille decided
she needed
to clean
up
.
The library
would have to wait a little while longer for
its
new
caretaker
to arrive.
She may not be comfortable around people, but she
knew
how to present a professional appearance for work
and
was determined to
do so now
.

Spilling
the contents
of her
pack
onto the bed, she
sifted through the
items until she found
a suitable pair of pants
,
a blouse
,
and
her b
ag
of tricks that would transform her weary, bedraggled look into a refined librarian. A little blush
to bring her back from the dead
, some gloss
to
soften
the
lips, and
a brush-through
and twist into a chignon
to tame her long, unruly curls
. Giving herself a stamp of approval in the
dresser
mirror, she set off to tackle her demons, known and unknown.

Chapter Two

“I’m doing my best, Nancy. You know we’ve been down a person, so cut me a little
slack
.”

“So who’s going to pay for all the books we can’t find because they’re lost on the shelves or stolen due to your
lazing
off? Let me get my calculator ready and I’ll give you an idea of how much money your
lackadaisical attitude
is costing us.”

“Excuse me.” Two heads swiveled to face
Camille
, one with a look of surprise
and annoyance
, the other with relief.
She
’d been standing in the office doorway having gone unnoticed for a few minutes and decided she’d heard enough. It was time to play profes
sional. “I’m Camille Dutton,
your interim librarian. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Please interrupt. I’m about to get an ulcer.
My name’s
Susan and this is Nancy
.
And I, for one, am very glad you’re here.”
Susan
smiled with a look of relief.

“Thank you,” she said, offering a smile of her own.
“
I’ll do my best to get up to speed.
You know, ulcers
are caused by diet and stress.
”

“Yes, well…
.
” Nancy flashed
a
dismissive glance.
“W
hy don’
t we begin with your duties?
I’ve scheduled you for the periodicals department. It
’s a
rather
robust area
with a lot of traffic. But I was told
it
is
your area of
expertise
. Follow me and I’ll give you the rest of the list. Susan, mind the front and circulation.”

As they walked to the stairs and headed down one level,
Nancy
spouted
her litany of daily chores and scheduled maintenance
to be done
after closing
. “Here, take this paper so you can memorize
it
.” She shoved t
he list into Camille’s gut and
waved her hand around like a game show model. “This is the Periodical Department. Your responsibility. You need to know this place
better than you know yourself
as soon as possible. It’s set up similarly to the branch you
’re
from.
Some periodicals must be signed for and are house
d
behind the circulation desk.
The patron fills out a slip of paper, gives it to you, and you go get the requested periodical. When they return it, you put it away. When new
ones
come in, enter them into the
system
catalog, put the call number
s
on the spines and shelve them
accordingly.
I’ve got my own work to catch up on, so if you have any questions, try to figure it out on your own or ask Susan.
”

With that, she turned and stalked back up the stairs, leaving Camille
standing by the circulation counter,
stunned by her
supervisor’s
abrasive
manner
. It couldn’t
have been
something personal
.
She’d done nothing to warrant her rudeness. People. They were so
complicated. She guessed that’s why
although
she couldn’t stand
them
, she loved
to study their nature.
I
could write another master’s
thesis on Nancy
alone
.

Checking her watch, she supposed she’d be there well after closing. That gave her a few hours to acclimate to her surroundings and
introduce herself to the books. Taking a good look around, she had to admit the place had loads of charm. Wooden book stacks lined the perimeter of the space and flanked
heavy oak
tables
with
green leather-bottomed
chairs set in the center.
Stained glass skylights washed the floors with a kaleidoscope of jeweled colors.
The overall appearance
spoke of age and history. If
these
walls coul
d talk, oh what they might say!

She walked around the currently empty area, up and down the aisles,
caressing
the spines of the books as she went past. The walls may not be able to talk, but the books certainly do. History lived here. People’s research, opinions,
and
all manner of science were immortalized within the covers of the journals found here.

A series of loud cracks and slamming sounds pierced the silence. She squealed, jumped, and turned to look around. No one stood before her, but a slew of books were lying in a messy heap on the floor, some opened, some closed. Looking right and left, peering through the stacks
and
between the books, she still
didn’t see
who could have tossed them to the floor. And when she’d walked past a few moments ago, she knew how securely t
hey were in place on the shelf.

“That’s very odd. How the heck did this happen?” S
cratching her head, s
he walked over to the offending books, and as she picked up the first, noticed the title
The Devil’s Handbook
.

She
bent down and
picked up another. Same title, different volume.
This one had been splayed open to a particular page. Spells. There were spells and recipes written for different evil purposes. She plunked herself down on the floor
as
curiosity compelled her to flit through the pages to see more. In all her five years as a librarian, she’d never seen a periodical whose sole purpose was to teach how to worship Satan. She gl
anced over at the other books l
ying askew on the floor, and they, to
o, were part of the collection.

A soft bell rung in the distance. Scrambling to her feet, she quickly closed the book and replaced all thirteen volumes back on the shelf. The bell rang again.

“Coming! I’ll be right with you!” Camille
straightened her outfit and swept stray strands of curls away from her face as she
dashed over to her circulation desk
.
Waiting at the high counter stood
a tall, blonde
-haired
man
in loose-fitting jeans and a plaid shirt
.
He slapped
slips of paper
against
his
palm
,
and shifted
a beat up backpack slung over one shoulder.

He turned
and
their eyes locked
as she scurried around the desk and pasted on a professional smile.
Thank goodness she’d been rushing about.
It masked the true reason for her breathlessness
—
h
is
heart-stopping, blue-green
eyes.
“How can I help you, today, sir?”

“I’d like to
check
these out, please
, but I don’t know where to find them
.
” He flashed a
pearly white
grin. “
I’m hoping you can help me
.”

“
Sure.”
Looking at his order slips, she noticed they were all for newspapers. They were kept in a different place from the journals. She looked on the floor plan taped to the desk and located their home.
“Follow me, please.”

She joined him around the front of the circulation desk and walked to the far end of the room. Archived newspapers were in a small room off the main area. His slips listed local and national newspapers
for
June of
the last six years
.

“I’m usually self-sufficient in a library, but I’m new to the island and this place is quite different from the ones I’
ve been to.
S
o thanks for helping me.”

“No problem. I’m new here, too, actually. Just arrived about an hour ago, in fact.”