Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 05 - Just Ducky (4 page)

“You’d better be,” she retorted. “I’m not planning on baby-sitting you for very long. I’d like to be out of here by Friday, which is Halloween, if at all possible. Bring a notebook with you to take notes so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And put that dress back in the closet and pull out something you can work in, like I got on,” Ms. Duckworthy said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. I made a note to myself to come to work tomorrow looking like I’d just come from the gym, or a weeklong camping trip, as I’d tried so valiantly not to do today.

“Yes, Mrs. Duckyworthy, no problem there. This is not how I typically dress.”

“Thank God! And one final thing, don’t every call me ma’am or Mrs. Duckworthy again, and don’t even think about calling me Bertha. Bertha makes me sound like an old lady. It’s just Ducky from now on.”

Chapter 3

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said the next morning, taking notes as I sat next to Ducky, who was pecking around on the computer keyboard. She’d told me she had a requisition form she needed to fill out and fax to the main office before she continued “jacking around” with me.

“What did you call that cataloging software again?” I asked.

Ducky looked over the rim of her reading glasses for a few moments before answering. There was a menacing arch to her eyebrows. This was the second time I’d asked her to repeat herself, and I’d gotten “the look” both times. I’d hesitated to ask her to repeat herself again, but it was important I knew the correct name of the software program required to get the job done properly. I’d rather get the look a hundred times than screw everything up once Ducky left me on my own.

“What’s another word for
quantity
?” Ducky asked, a few minutes later.

“How about
number
?”

“Naa, try again.”

“
Amount
?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

For a moment, I thought she might be working on an online crossword puzzle, but quickly realized she wasn’t the type to spend her time at work so frivolously. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, this antique keyboard is a piece of crap,” she answered. “The ‘B’ key sticks and you have to hit it repeatedly sometimes to make it work, and the “Q” key is completely defective and doesn’t work at all. I’ve put in a work order for a new keyboard every week for the last two months and haven’t received one yet. My boss is a piece of work, I’ll tell you. He’s one of the main reasons I’m retiring.”

Keyboards are cheap enough, I thought, so I made a quick notation in my notebook to purchase a new one with my own money as soon as possible, so I didn’t have to use my copy of
Roget’s Thesaurus
every time I made entries on the computer. I wondered for a moment if I’d be working directly for Ducky’s superior. It stood to reason I would, and now I was not all that anxious to meet this man who would have authority over me. I shook off my trepidation and continued to concentrate on everything Ducky was explaining about the cataloguing software program I’d be using.

After another hour of computer tutoring, Ducky led me over to the large-print section of the library. I noticed, despite her petite size, she walked with the heaviness and clumsiness of an inebriated elephant. Her outfit today was even tackier than the one she’d worn the day before. I had dressed-down significantly, but there was no way I could show up to work at the library in clothes so cruddy that even Goodwill would turn their noses up at them if I attempted to donate them. I was relieved when Ducky had made no comment after giving me the once-over when I walked into her office. She’d merely shrugged and pointed to a hook where I could hang my jacket.

Ducky started out by introducing me to Paul Miller and Carolyn Aldrich, two part-time employees, already busy with their responsibilities. Paul, who I guessed to be in his early thirties, was helping a customer find a specific book she was searching for in the rear of the library. I could tell instantly he was a man of few words. After telling him I was pleased to meet him and looked forward to working with him, he merely nodded, shook my outstretched hand, and turned his attention back to the customer he’d been assisting. Paul’s muscular frame and large stature reminded me of Detective Johnston. He absolutely dwarfed Ducky, and looked like he should be employed at the local lumber mill instead of working at the library.

Carolyn, a gregarious local college student, was sorting returned books into categories to assure putting them back in their given places would be more efficient. I knew instantly I would enjoy working with her, and hopefully Paul, as well. Carolyn welcomed me to the library, and we spoke for a few minutes about nothing in particular. As we meandered away from Carolyn, Ducky muttered under her breath. I could only make out a few words, and “chatterbox” was one of them, so I knew whatever she’d said was not complimentary. I didn’t know if she was referring to Carolyn or me, but I really didn’t care either way.

Following the introductions, Ducky gave me an abbreviated tour of the building. It was an older lodge-styled, cedar-sided structure that looked as if it belonged in the Colorado Rockies next to a rippling trout stream. We started in the basement, which was dark and musty, with no windows and only a few light bulbs scattered about. There were quite a few boxes, no doubt filled with old library books, and a metal shelving unit with cleaning supplies on each shelf, and a wet mop, dust mop, and broom leaned up against the concrete wall.

Ducky told me an elderly man named Tom came in on Tuesday and Friday nights to do custodial work in the library and that Tom had been cleaning the library since he’d retired and moved here from Kentucky four years ago. He did contract work, cleaning a number of businesses around town in the evenings.

In the far corner of the basement was a shiny weight-lifting apparatus that looked to be fairly new. There was a bare bulb hanging on a chain above it, providing the only source of light in the area.

“Are you pumping iron in your spare time?” I asked Ducky, in jest.

“Of course not!” She answered, not amused by my teasing. “I let Paul put that down here a few months ago. He works out here sometimes after work. He’s been such a reliable employee for all these years, I figured letting him use it down here was no big deal. He and his girlfriend live with her folks in a small apartment, and they don’t have room for it at their place.”

“Does Paul have a key to the library?” I asked, just in case the situation ever arose when I needed to get in the library and couldn’t locate my key.

“No, it wouldn’t bother me if he had one, but it would be against library policy,” Ducky said, as we walked back up the stairs and then turned off the light switch.

We meandered through the back break room, and on to the main section, where all the books were shelved. This room had what appeared to be at least fifteen-foot ceilings, with large log beams traversing the room. Ducky led me to a little nook with several overstuffed chairs, and a comfy-looking sofa, situated around a floor-to-ceiling river rock fireplace that was being utilized on this cool October morning.

A young woman was curled up on the sofa, absorbed in the novel she was reading. Observing the cozy scene, I felt certain I’d enjoy working in this old-fashioned, but alluring, library. We stopped momentarily while Ducky rather curtly instructed the young reader to get her shoes off the couch. The twenty-something gal apologized profusely and put her feet on the floor. When the patron turned to glance at me, I merely shrugged apologetically. I couldn’t see how she was doing any damage to the already well-worn leather couch.

When I expressed my impressions of the library to Ducky, she replied, “Too bad everyone doesn’t have such a positive opinion of it, or at least of its location. The city manager, Elroy Traylor, wants to raze the building and have the city build a modern one down on Mulberry Street, which would be a very inconvenient location for a public library.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to eliminate this building. One of Rockdale’s charms is its abundance of historic homes, antique shops, and quaint little mom and pop shops. The library is the perfect complement to the very things that draw tourists here, and tourism is one of Rockdale’s primary sources of income.”

“I don’t think Traylor cares about what’s best for Rockdale and its citizens. As you know, there’s a shortage of long-term rental properties in this town. He wants to build an apartment complex on this property, and the vacant lot next door, which he already owns. He’s convinced the owners of the Subway on our other side to sell out to him if it comes to pass, but fortunately so far, Elroy’s been unable to convince the city council to appropriate the funds a new library would require. Traylor’s nothing but a pompous prick. We’ve been at odds for years. It’s a mutual dislike between us that goes far beyond the fate of the library.”

I didn’t know what their mutual dislike was based on, if not just the location of the library, but I felt a bit sympathetic for anyone who had the misfortune to be on Ducky’s shit list. I was doing everything I could do to stay off that particular list.

I spent the next two hours walking on eggshells, afraid to do something that would result in being chastised by Ducky. She seemed to go out of her way to be unpleasant toward me, as if she resented the fact I was going to replace her in a few days. I had to remind myself on several occasions that I’d only have to work with her a couple more days before her retirement took effect, which was now scheduled for Friday.

As Ducky explained all the intricacies of the Rockdale Public Library to me, people were milling about, studying at the tables provided, and occasionally returning or checking books out at the front desk. After watching Ducky handle the first customer, she let me assist with the rest; something I was very accustomed to doing. She only scolded me twice; once for making needless small talk with a customer, and then again for taking a short bathroom break. I guess I was expected to pee on my own time. I wondered if Paul and Carolyn were forced to wear catheters to work. I guess that’s why some, no doubt incontinent, individual invented Depends. At least while I was in charge of the library, visits to the restroom would be at one’s own discretion. Unfortunately, one could not always accurately schedule bowel movements.

Later I was checking out a couple of newly released mysteries to a young college-aged man when I saw Ducky involved in a heated conversation with a tall, raven-haired woman, who appeared to be very fit and quite striking in appearance. I couldn’t tell what the dispute was about, but even though they were in the far corner of the library, I could hear raised voices and saw Ducky pointing her index finger in the other woman’s face. After a few minutes of arguing, the other woman turned and rushed out the front door in obvious discontent.

When Ducky returned to the front desk, she didn’t mention the confrontation. Despite my curiosity, I didn’t want to ask her about it in the event it was a personal matter, entirely unrelated to the library. If she wanted me to know what the quarrel was about, she’d tell me. I was disappointed when she didn’t. The woman may have just asked for the hours the library was open, and it rubbed the temperamental librarian the wrong way. “There’s a sign on the front door. Read it, and don’t waste my time!” I can imagine her shouting at the woman. I’d come to learn that any given transgression, no matter how insignificant, could result in a tongue-lashing from Ducky.

By lunchtime, I’d relaxed somewhat. I’d chosen to heed Wyatt’s advice and take anything Ducky said to me with a grain of salt, turning a deaf ear to her when she snapped at me over something inconsequential. I asked her to repeat herself several more times, and actually, felt a little disappointed the one time she forgot to give me “the look.”

While Ducky sat in her office and ate a sack lunch, I went next door to get a turkey sandwich at Subway. I reflected on what I’d learned throughout the morning and realized I was getting anxious to begin my tenure as the acting head librarian. There would be a few things I’d have to learn, but for the most part it would be repetitious of the tasks I’d performed during the duration of my volunteer work as an assistant. I wasn’t thinking I knew everything there was to know about running a library, as Ducky had insisted I not do. But, I did feel I knew enough to muddle through while I learned the intricacies of the job.

After lunch, we picked up where we’d left off. By mid-afternoon, I was beginning to find Ducky almost endearing as she loosened up and talked about some of the things she looked forward to doing during her retirement. Some were quite predictable. She wanted to do a little traveling, and take up a couple of hobbies, such as needlework and gardening. And, not surprisingly, she wanted to spend more time with her grandchildren, Melissa and Barney.