Charles sprang onto the table. Charles has absolutely no self-control. “Not for you,” I said as I put him on the floor.
Josie came in with more boxes, and my mouth watered as I helped her arrange the selection of baked goods. I’d had a small salad for lunch and no time for dinner. That, I realized as I studied the treats, might have been a mistake.
“You can have one if you want,” Josie said.
“How’d you know that was what I was thinking?”
She grinned at me. “That’s what everyone’s thinking when they see my food. Try one of those.” She pointed to a small chocolate-covered square.
I picked one up and studied it. It consisted of a dark crumbly base, a thick layer of custard, and a topping of chocolate ganache. I took a tentative bite, and I almost swooned as the flavors exploded in my mouth.
“Oh my goodness,” I said. “This might well be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. What is it?”
“It’s called a Nanaimo bar. A baker friend of mine moved to Vancouver Island, and she sent me the recipe. Trust me, you might think you want another one now, but don’t. They’re really filling.”
I popped the rest of it in my mouth and chewed happily.
“Mom says this is a party for Bertie’s library school crowd,” Josie said, referring to my aunt Ellen.
“Yup. The start of a reunion weekend. They’ll be doing the usual tourist stuff tomorrow and Sunday.”
“Where did Bertie go to college?”
“She did her undergraduate studies at the University of North Carolina. That’s close enough that some of her class settled in this area, but far enough many of them didn’t. So they don’t see each other much. I gather it’s the anniversary of the first day of class, when they all met, not their graduation. This is strictly a classmates’ weekend, from what Bertie tells me. Meaning, the women didn’t bring husbands and families with them, or if they did, said husbands will be left to their own devices.”
“Not hard to entertain oneself in the Outer Banks in summer.” Josie studied the arrangement of canapes, cookies, squares, and tarts on the trays. “How’s that look?”
“Good enough to eat.”
She laughed.
“Be sure you have a peek at the historical exhibit Charlene and I put together before you leave. The only non-schoolmate coming tonight will be Helena Sanchez, who was the library director here before Bertie. She also went to North Carolina, but before Bertie and her crowd, so Bertie invited her. Did you ever meet Ms. Sanchez?”
Josie’s pretty face twisted. “I’ve met her, but only once or twice, when I was with Mom.”
“Was your mom a Friends of the Library member back then?”
“She was. I vaguely remember hearing her telling Dad she was going to quit. Something about not being able to get along with the director. That was several years ago, and I had plenty of other things on my mind, so my memory of that fleeting conversation might be faulty. Shortly after that, Ms. Sanchez retired, Bertie was hired, and Mom stayed on. If you’re okay here, I’m off. Jake’s taken the night off work, and we’re having a date night.”
“Have fun,” I said. Josie had married Jake Greenblatt over the winter. She still had that newlywed glow about her. I hoped she always would.
I walked her to the door, and we hugged good night. Then I turned to face into the room. Connor and Ronald had set up the bar, and Charlene was arranging plates and cocktail napkins on the table where we’d put the food. Most of our bookshelves are on rollers, and we’d pushed them back to create a larger space for people to mix and mingle. We were expecting twenty-one guests, which was easily doable even for our small library. We’d had far larger parties before. Somehow the Lighthouse Library seems to be able to stretch at the seams to accommodate everyone who wants to come in.
“I offered Ronald a hand when the guests arrive,” Connor said, “but he says the three of you have it all under control.”
“We do,” I said. “The food’s made, so all we have to do is serve, tend bar, and keep things tidy. And then clean up, of course, so we look like a library at opening time tomorrow.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me lightly on the top of my head. Then, conscious of Ronald and Charlene trying not to watch us, he pulled away. “Good night, Lucy,”
“Good night,” I said.
He touched my arm lightly and called, “Break a leg,” to Ronald, who had a background in theater before becoming a librarian. On the way out, Connor held the door for Louise Jane.
Ronald and Charlene stopped what they were doing, to stare. I might have stared myself.
“Goodness,” Charlene said.
“Where’d you get that?” Ronald asked.
“A little something from the back of your mother’s closet?” I asked.
“I always believe in dressing the part.” Louise Jane wore a proper maid’s uniform circa 1920s. Calf-length black dress buttoned to the throat and down the sleeves, white apron, black stockings, thick-soled black shoes. Her hair was pulled back and tucked under a crisp white cap with lace trim. She surveyed the room. “You seem to have everything under control in here. Has the food arrived?”
“It’s in the break room,” I said.
“I’ll help you bring it out then.”
“We’re waiting until the guests arrive. Then you and I will circulate with the dishes. Ronald’s tending bar, and Charlene will keep an eye out for potential spills or dirty napkins needing to be whisked away, and talk to the guests about our historical display.”
One eyebrow rose. “Do you think that’s wise, Lucy, honey? The room will get quite crowded. We don’t want any accidents.”
“Which is the potential spills part of my job, LJ,” Charlene said. “It’s all been decided. No need to worry your pretty little head
