Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 05 - Just Ducky (3 page)

“I’ve seen every episode three times, but thanks for offering. I get what you’re saying, Stone. I really do. But, even though we’re not booked solid, we do have occasional guests here at the inn, you know. What about them?”

“I can handle things here until spring,” Stone assured me. “Once we get them settled into their suites, basically our only real responsibilities are to feed them and clean up after them. All the other things you do for them are above and beyond our obligations.”

“Well, I guess you could handle things if I was gone during the day. I’d be home early enough in the evening to prepare supper for any guests we might have, and us too, of course. I’d also have time to spruce up the suites after the guests depart and prepare them for newly arriving guests.”

“And I’d be happy to help out in any way I could,” Stone said.

The Alexandria Inn, which my husband of just a few months, Stone Van Patten, had named after me, had been restored from an old Victorian mansion in ill repair into a thriving lodging establishment, a charming bed and breakfast in the small town of Rockdale, Missouri. We had both enjoyed the challenge and the hard work we’d poured into the project.

My name is Alexandria Marie Starr, by the way, but I’m known simply as Lexie. At fifty years old, I was enjoying being a newlywed, having recently married Stone, the second love of my life. I’d also enjoyed the challenge of running the inn, efficiently and effectively, which had been filled to capacity nearly all spring and summer.

But now it was late October, and business was waning as people stayed home and anticipated the approaching holidays. I felt like I was rattling around aimlessly in the huge inn, which encompassed half a city block. I liked the idea of getting an opportunity to use the skills I’d acquired as a volunteer librarian assistant in my old hometown. I’d had to give up that endeavor when I moved to Rockdale right before our wedding, because it would have been a long commute of over an hour each way.

“You know, Stone, I think I might just see about putting in for that job. I’d be out of your hair and have something to do to fill my spare time. Obviously, I couldn’t apply for the permanent position, because of the nature of our seasonal business, but filling in during the interim would be fun and challenging. And the timing couldn’t be any better. They will surely have hired a permanent head librarian by the time we get busy in early spring. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind me being gone during the day?”

“Of course not,” Stone said. “I know you’re happiest when you’re busy, and this opening at the library is the perfect solution. After all that happened this last spring, you could probably use something more tranquil and less nerve-wracking to do with your time.”

“That’s for sure. Having Pastor Steiner killed just days before our wedding, and having to find a replacement in such a short time, while investigating his death, took a lot out of me,” I agreed.

“And it, no doubt, took ten years off my life just from worrying about you,” Stone said. He had still not completely gotten over my insistence at becoming involved in the search for the pastor’s killer. I wanted to change the subject before we got embroiled in a debate about my reckless impulsiveness, a character trait I’d finally learned to live with, but one Stone was still trying to accept and get accustomed to. I’d surely given him plenty of opportunities to work on that lofty goal.

“I think I’ll head over to the library this morning,” I said, just as Detective Johnston came in through the back door of the inn.

I would soon find out there would be little tranquility to be found working at the local library. If only I’d known what I was about to get myself into, I may have just stayed home and rewashed those clean bedclothes, or spent the day watching the wallpaper fade in the parlor, while ingesting entirely too much caffeine as I was prone to do.

Chapter 2

While chatting with Detective Wyatt Johnston over one final cup of coffee, I mentioned my plan to apply for the interim head librarian position at the Rockdale Public Library.

“I wondered when you were going to find something to do to cure the restlessness you’ve developed. I’ve gained ten pounds in the last two weeks,” he said, as he popped an entire oatmeal cookie into his mouth. Obviously, he had noticed my symptoms of boredom too. Even with no customers at the inn, I’d been baking enough pastries, tarts, cream puffs, and fruit pies to feed an army of Wyatts.

“Speaking of which, I have a fresh pineapple upside-down cake cooling in the pantry for you to take home for you and Veronica. And, by the way, Stone has threatened to have you issue me a restraining order, not allowing me to get within fifty feet of the oven,” I said.

“Yeah, I can see why,” he replied, glancing at Stone. “He may have gained even more than I have.”

“Twelve pounds and counting,” Stone said, patting his slightly protruding belly. Two or three inches below six foot, Stone tended to be slightly too short for his weight. As he had a habit of saying, he wasn’t overweight, just under-tall. But at just five foot two, and a few pounds over my ideal weight, I had a tendency to be under-tall as well.

“Patrolling all over Rockdale on a daily basis, I hear a lot of things, Lexie,” Wyatt said. “I’ve heard the Meals on Wheels organization is looking for drivers to deliver meals around town, and the nursing home on Spruce Street is always in dire need of extra help. Just something to keep in mind if the librarian job, for some odd reason, doesn’t pan out.”

I nodded in response, knowing there was no way on earth I could volunteer at the nursing home. It took a special kind of person to work at one, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t quite that special. I couldn’t walk from one end of a nursing home to the other without crying, puking, or both. I had a weak stomach as it was, and something about a nursing home made my stomach roil, and really tugged at my heartstrings. I wanted to visit with every single resident I passed, and sneak them, in their wheelchairs, out the back door, if possible, as if I were breaking them out of prison. I knew nursing homes served a valuable purpose, but I’ve never seen a resident of one that seemed truly thrilled to be there. It was if they had just resigned themselves to reside there while they waited patiently for the inevitable. I knew I’d find it sad and depressing, and I’d opt for boredom before those two emotions. However, the Meals on Wheels idea was definitely feasible. If I could manage to fit a few meals into my little sports car, I could certainly deliver them to disabled and elderly folks around town. It would be very self-satisfying to help the senior citizens who were unable to prepare meals for themselves, and feed the less fortunate.

“Thanks, Wyatt! That’s good to know, because there’s a good chance they already have someone in mind for the library job.”

“They do,” he said. “You!”

“What do you mean?”

“I ran into Bertha Duckworthy, the head librarian, the other day, and she told me she was going to retire, on or just after the last day of October, if she could find someone to fill in by then. I told her you had volunteered as a librarian assistant for a number of years, and she asked me to mention the opportunity to you the next time I saw you. I was going to do that today, but Wendy obviously beat me to it!”

“Thanks Wyatt. It sounds promising, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“It’s right up your alley, and you’re a shoe-in for the job, Lexie,” Wyatt answered. “She’d hoped you apply for the permanent position, but I told her the likelihood of that was remote due to your work here at the inn.”

“I’m going down to the library this morning to speak with her. What did you say her name was again, Wyatt?”

“Her name is Bertha Duckworthy, but most people just refer to her by her nickname, Ducky.”

“She goes by
Ducky
? She sounds like she must be a real character.”

“She’s one of a kind, all right. She’s the type you either love or hate, but to me she’s just Ducky,” Wyatt answered. “I think you’ll get along with her just fine as long as you remember to take whatever she says with a grain of salt, and try not to take any of it personally.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of Wyatt’s advice, but I was anxious to go speak with Ms. Duckworthy, so I told the men to enjoy their day at the RV and Boat Show, and excused myself to go change into something other than the well-worn sweatpants and
Miller Lite
tee shirt I was wearing. I wanted to make a good first impression and this outfit hardly screamed, “Hire Me!” It more likely made the statement, “If you give me the job, I promise I won’t chug beer until I’m off the clock.”

* * *

Half an hour later I was in my blue convertible heading to the library, dressed in a knee-length pastel yellow dress, trimmed with black piping, and my brand new terribly uncomfortable, black leather heels. I knew there would be a critical reason I’d need to wear them when I bought them last week.

I’m not sure why, but I’d even chosen to put on a pair of pantyhose, which I detested and normally only stooped to wearing to funerals and weddings of people with whom I was very close. I also slipped on some dangly earrings and a matching emerald necklace Stone had given me for my birthday. It had been years since I’d applied for a job, and I didn’t know the current dress code for such an occasion. Plus, it was important to me to make a good first impression on Ms. Duckworthy, and I didn’t want to look like I’d just come from the gym, or a weeklong camping trip.

As I introduced myself to the head librarian a few minutes later, I knew I had over-dressed for the occasion. Ms. Duckworthy was wearing an old pair of baggy, faded jeans that ended several inches above the top of her beat-up hiking boots. She also donned a stained, light blue sweatshirt that had a Kansas City Royals 1985 World Series Champions emblem on the front and was frayed around the collar. To complete the ensemble, she wore an Isle of Capri Casino ball cap.

The head librarian had short salt and pepper hair, more salty than peppery, and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. She was several inches shorter than me, probably an inch or two shy of five foot, and couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. Yet, for some odd reason, I instantly felt very intimidated by her, as if I were introducing myself to a drill-sergeant on the first day of boot camp.

“I’m Lexie Starr, Ms. Duckworthy. I believe Detective Wyatt Johnston spoke to you about my experience as an assistant librarian in Shawnee. I volunteered there for several days a week for a period of almost four years. He told me you were retiring and looking for someone to fill in as acting head librarian while applicants were being interviewed for the permanent position. The detective thought it might be right up my alley, and actually I was looking for something to do in my spare time while business at our bed and breakfast was in a seasonal slump,” I said. As I babbled on, she stared at me like I had “
village idiot”
tattooed across my forehead. “So, um, anyway, I guess I’ve come to speak to you about the position and apply for the job.”

“Really?” she asked. “I thought maybe you were on your way to a cocktail party, dressed in that fancy get-up, and all.”

I laughed nervously at what I thought was meant as a joke. She didn’t laugh, smile, or show any emotion at all. I turned slightly to my left, on the verge of walking right out of the library, and back to my car, knowing my face was flushing in embarrassment. I took a step toward the door when Ms. Duckworthy’s next words stopped me in my tracks.

“Okay, lady, you’ve got the job,” she stated. “When can you start?”

“But, don’t you want me to fill out an application, or, perhaps, be interviewed first?”

“Naaa, the cop’s word is good enough for me. It’s just temporary after all, so you don’t have to be the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“Well, then, Ms. Duckworthy, I guess I can start whenever you’d like me to.” I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted by her “sharpest knife” comment, so I chose not to be, since I really did want the job, and Wyatt had suggested I didn’t take anything Ducky said personally. “Tomorrow’s Tuesday. Will that work for you?”

“Yeah, that will work fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning around nine. Don’t be late. I’ll want to show you the ropes for a few days before I leave you on your own. This library ain’t much different than any other library, but your responsibilities here might be somewhat more diverse than what you’re used to,” she said. “So don’t go thinking you know everything there is to know about running a library.”

I nodded. “Oh, yes ma’am, of course. I only worked as an assistant, so there are a lot of things I’ll need to learn, but I promise I’m a fast learner.”