Miranda James - The Silence of the Library

“I suppose I shall have to start calling you Doubting Thomasina instead of Carrie.” Eagleton proffered another sunny smile. “You shall see, my dear Thomasina, you shall see and be amazed.”

Mrs. Taylor appeared unmoved by Eagleton’s claim. “I think I would have heard about these manuscripts before now. After all, I’ve known Marcella for over a decade. She’s never even mentioned your name when we chat.”

Eagleton shrugged. “My dear Carrie, far be it from me to fathom the deep mysteries of the feminine mind. I have not been acquainted with Marcella as long as you, but in our recent conversations she has been most charming and quite forthcoming with details about her mother’s work. Not to mention eager to see her mother’s name in print once again so that a new generation of readers can discover the joy of such an engaging and endearing heroine as Veronica Thane.”

Mrs. Taylor stood in an abrupt movement. “I think I’ll just call Marcella and check this story with her. I think there’s something odd going on. And if you’re involved, Winnie Eagleton, it’s really, really odd.” With that, she moved quickly away, and I called “Good-bye” after her. She didn’t appear to hear me.

Eagleton shook his head. “Poor Carrie. For years she has prided herself on this deep, personal connection to the great lady and her family although they have never met face-to-face. I can imagine how distressing it must be for her to discover that she is not clasped as firmly to the Cartwright bosom as she believed.”

I had no desire to insert myself into this odd contest between Eagleton and Mrs. Taylor. The man had come to the public library, and I presumed he had a reason for his visit. “Was there anything in particular you were seeking at the library? If you’d like to come inside, I’ll be happy to help you.”

Eagleton beamed at me as he stood. “Yes, young man, there is.” I had to suppress a smile at being called young man . “I need access to older issues of your local paper as well as those of national papers like the New York Times .”

“I can certainly help you with that.” I nodded in the direction of the front door. “Come on inside, and we’ll get you started. Our local paper went online in 1998, and we have microfilm of older issues. We also have access to the Times and other papers online through various databases. I can show you how to find them.”

“Smashing, absolutely smashing.” Eagleton beamed as he followed me to the door.

Diesel awaited right inside the library. He often became anxious when I left him for more than a few minutes. Usually he was happy with Lizzie and Bronwyn, but I figured he had picked up on the tension when Della Duffy made her abrupt exit.

“Everything is okay, boy.” I scratched his head, and he rewarded me with chirps and meows.

“Who is this fine fellow?” Eagleton stared at my cat, evidently fascinated. “I don’t recall that I have ever seen such a large domestic feline. I suppose he is a Maine Coon, is he not?”

“Yes, he is.” A point to Eagleton for recognizing the breed. “His name is Diesel, and he accompanies me everywhere. He’s big even for his breed.”

Diesel sidled closer to the stranger to allow his head to be rubbed, and Eagleton complied. I waited a few moments to let the two become acquainted while Bronwyn and Lizzie watched. Then I gently directed Eagleton toward the small room where we kept the microfilm of the pre-1998 issues of the Athena Daily Register . “If you’d like to start with these,” I said, “I can show you how to load the microfilm into the reader, if you need me to.”

“Thank you, young man, but that won’t be necessary.” Eagleton nodded at the equipment. “I am quite familiar with this technology. I rather think I will start in here, and perhaps later you can show me to a computer and help me get started with the papers online.”

“Certainly,” I said. Diesel and I left him humming as he examined the drawers in which the film was stored.

Eagleton emerged from the microfilm room about ten minutes before Diesel and I completed our volunteer shift for the day. I got him settled at a computer station, logged him in, and guided him to the links for the newspaper databases.

Diesel climbed happily into the backseat for the short drive home. Nothing was very far from anything else in Athena, one of the distinct advantages of living in a smaller town. Sean’s car was in the garage when I pulled in beside it, and I was surprised he would be home at a little past three thirty in the afternoon.

In the kitchen I went straight to the refrigerator for a cold drink while Diesel visited his litter box in the utility room. I spotted a folded note with Dad scrawled across it stuck to the fridge door with a daisy magnet. As I sipped at my diet drink, I opened the note and scanned the contents.

Sean had written in his precise, bold hand, “News to share. Come to the back porch, and I’ll tell you.”

I tucked the note in my pocket and headed for the back of house. Diesel caught up with me before I reached the door and jogged past me. He turned his head toward me and warbled.

“Go ahead.” I grinned because I knew what he wanted. My boarder Justin Wardlaw had taught him how to open doors with his front paws, and Diesel liked showing off his skill. He reared up on his hind legs and twisted the knob. The door popped open, and the cat and I stepped onto the screened-in porch that ran the length of the rear of the house.

I had already picked up the fragrant smell of my son’s cigar. This was the only part of the house in which he was allowed to indulge his habit, and when I couldn’t find him elsewhere inside, I knew he’d be out here. I’d rather he gave it up entirely for his health, but I knew better than to argue with him about it. At least he smoked only where there was plenty of air circulating.

“Hey, Dad.” Sean turned and smiled, cigar in one hand and champagne bottle in the other. “Time to celebrate.”

NINE

“Celebrate?” What was he talking about? Did this mean he had finally asked Alexandra Pendergrast to marry him? We had all been expecting this for months now.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sean shook his head. “No, Dad, I haven’t asked her yet. I’m talking about the state bar exam.” He popped the cork on the bottle.

Of course. How could I have forgotten? Sean had taken the Mississippi bar in February, and the results were expected this month.

“You passed,” I said. I had never doubted he would. My son, I could say without boasting, was an extremely bright young man.

“I did.” Sean stuck the cigar in his mouth and picked up two champagne flutes. He filled one and handed it to me before filling his own.

“To Mississippi’s newest legal eagle.” I raised the glass and smiled. “I’m proud of you, as always.”

Sean beamed back at me as he raised his own. He drew on the cigar and expelled the smoke. We watched it waft away in the breeze coming through the screens as we sipped the champagne.

“Thanks, Dad.” Sean downed the rest of the amber liquid. “How about a refill?”

“No, thanks, one glass is enough for me,” I said.

Diesel sat in front of him and chirped. Sean glanced down and smiled. “Sorry, big guy, but I don’t think champagne is good for cats. Dad might have a fit if I give you any.”

The cat’s head turned in my direction, as if to ask my permission. “No, boy, Sean is right. No bubbly for you.”

Diesel made a rumbling noise—his method of signaling irritation when he didn’t get his way. Sean and I shared a chuckle over the cat’s behavior.

“I’m sure Alexandra is pretty excited about the news.” My son had been working with her and her father, the legendary Q. C. Pendergrast, as an assistant. Q.C. had promised to make Sean a partner when he passed the bar. I figured the old man was getting ready to ease off on his legal practice and let the youngsters take over.