Due Or Die

known to drop the heaviest book she could find beside an unsuspecting snoozer, giving the poor person a small heart attack.

As Lindsey got closer, she recognized the sleeper. It was her friend library board member Milton Duffy. His bald head shone under the overhead lights and his mouth was slightly agape, framed by his silver goatee.

Lindsey gently shook his arm. “Milton, psst, Milton.”

He jolted awake and leaned forward with his reading glasses in one hand and his favorite yoga magazine in the other.

He turned, and when his bright green eyes met hers, he grinned. “Lindsey, you’re just the person I was looking for. Just give me a moment.”

“Certainly.”

He rose from his seat and assumed the mountain pose. From here he went into a deep forward bend. Milton was a certified yogi and Lindsey had learned not to rush him when he was in a posture. She waited as he slowly rose to an upright position, vertebra by vertebra.

With a deep breath in and a sharp exhale, he gave her his full attention.

“So, how did the election for the Friends go?” he asked.

As always, Lindsey was surprised by how deeply in the loop Milton was about the library’s goings-on. She should be used to it by now. As the chairman of the library board, he generally knew what was happening even before Lindsey did.

“Carrie Rushton won,” Lindsey said. “I’m surprised you weren’t there, Milton; you’re a member of the Friends.”

“I felt it might be a conflict of interest, what with me being on the library board and all,” he said.

Lindsey just stared at him.

“Okay,” he relented. “Bill and I have a history and I didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize Carrie winning the election.”

Lindsey raised her eyebrows. What sort of history could Bill and Milton have? How could he just throw that out there and not tell her any more? She continued to stare at him, unblinking.

“Oh, fine,” he said.

Lindsey grinned. The unblinking stare, it worked every time.

“We both dated my Anna in high school, but she chose me and Bill has never gotten over it.”

Milton brushed an invisible piece of lint off his navy track suit. He didn’t meet Lindsey’s gaze and she got the feeling he was embarrassed.

“Why do I think there is more to this story?” she asked.

“Not really,” Milton said. Then he sighed. “Bill is a very bitter man. He never got over losing Anna to me and tried to best me at everything I have ever done. I went to Yale, he went to Princeton. I bought the oldest house in town. He inherited his family’s estate, which is the biggest house in Briar Creek. I married Anna, he married her cousin. It’s ridiculous. You’d think after sixty years the man would get over it.”

“I can see why you abstained,” Lindsey said. “That was a good call.”

Milton opened his mouth to say something, but just then Ms. Cole announced that the library would be closing in ten minutes. Lindsey glanced at her watch in surprise. Where had the evening gone?

She heard the sound of footsteps and saw that the Friends were making their way down the stairs at the end of the room. Ms. Cole heard them, too, and she hushed them as only Ms. Cole could do. It sounded like something between a snake’s hiss and the crack of a whip.

The Friends immediately quieted down. Most of them waved and kept on walking out of the building, but Carrie and Mimi stopped by Milton and Lindsey to talk.

Milton pumped Carrie’s hand up and down in congratulations and she beamed.

“I’m so excited,” Carrie said in a rush. “Mimi and I have a ton of ideas to help get some cash flowing into the Friends’ bank account. Warren told me we have some rare books that have been donated to the Friends. If we can’t use them in the library, I bet we could sell them in an on-line auction and make a fortune.”

“She’s going to be a great president,” Mimi said. “No more of Bill’s spinning his wheels in indecision. We’re going to make some changes.”

“That’s wond-” Lindsey began but she was interrupted.

“The library is now closed!” Ms. Cole barked from behind the circulation desk and they all jumped.

The others exchanged startled glances and hurried toward the door.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Milton said to Lindsey. “Ladies, may I escort you to your cars?”

Mimi simpered and Carrie grinned as Milton bundled up and led them out the front door into the brisk January air.

Lindsey helped shut down the building, switching off the computers, copiers and coffeepots and finally setting the alarm. Even after almost a year, she still got tense when she only had fifteen seconds to get out the back door after she activated the system.

Per usual, Ms. Cole set off across the parking lot to her compact sedan without so much as a good night.

“Do you think the lemon is aware of how off-putting her personality is?” Beth asked Jessica and Lindsey as they stood, watching the older woman stride away.

“I think she likes who she is,” Jessica said. “The lemon is all about maintaining order, and I think the library gives her a place, her own little corner of the universe, to maintain order within. I think it gives the lemon a purpose.”

“That sounds about right,” Lindsey said. “And I do think she enjoys her work in her own way.”

Ms. Cole had been nicknamed the lemon long before Lindsey had come to work in Briar Creek, so she didn’t feel it was her place to tell the staff not to call her that. Besides, with Ms. Cole’s perpetual pucker of disapproval, it was hard to argue against the name, as it was a dead-accurate description.

“Do either of you want a ride?” Jessica offered. “You’re going to freeze biking home in this.”

“We’re tough,” Beth said. As if to prove it, she made a muscle with her right arm, which was completely invisible under her bulky coat.

“Crazy is more like it,” Jessica said, and she climbed into her car with a smile and a wave.

Lindsey thought she might be onto something with the crazy comment. When she had moved from New Haven to Briar Creek, Lindsey had committed to a greener lifestyle and sold her car. She hadn’t really considered how cold that lifestyle would be, however, when winter came.

“Buck up,” Beth said, as if sensing her unhappiness about the bike ride ahead. “Just think how much better your butt looks now that you’re biking every day.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to need a firm behind to keep people from noticing the toes that go missing due to hypothermia,” Lindsey said.

“Are we feeling a little whiny?” Beth asked.

“No, yes, a little,” Lindsey said.

“Come on, get moving, you’ll warm up and feel better and you can reward yourself with a decadent dessert when you get home.”

Beth wrapped her scarf about her head, dumped her purse and book bag in the basket on her bike and set off on her cruiser.

Lindsey watched the blinking light on Beth’s bike alerting motorists to her presence, then followed her example, trying to ignore the stinging cold that made her eyes tear up.

What had she been thinking when she sold her car? On Sunday, she was going to look at the classifieds. Surely, there was a small economical and environmental vehicle out there that wouldn’t harm the planet and could get her from point A to point B and keep her from feeling like a human Popsicle.

Mercifully, Briar Creek was a small town and she only had about a mile to go to get to her house. She followed Beth to the end of Main Street, where the road forked. Beth went to the left toward her beach house and Lindsey to the right to her top-floor apartment in an old captain’s house.

At least the roads were clear now. Last week, after a snow storm, she’d had to walk for three days until the bicycle path was clear enough to be used again.

With her long, curly blond hair stuffed securely in her helmet as extra insulation, her ears were completely muffled and it took her a second to register the sound of a car engine coming in her direction.

She knew even with her blinky light on, she was not very visible, so she glanced over her shoulder to see where