Librarian Bear Read online

  "Okay, but you have to stop at quitting time," Sarah warned him. "The local drama club is putting on Little Shop of Horrors in the park tonight and I helped with the costumes, so we have to go see it. Well, I do. I guess you d—"

  "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Matthew interrupted. "I've seen your dragon costume. I want to see what you've done with Audrey Two."

  "It's brilliant," Sarah assured him with the flash of a smile. "And—this is a secret that everybody in town but the girl playing Audrey knows. She got into a really great college theater program, but she lost out on a scholarship she hoped for, so she doesn't think she can go. The rest of the kids decided they'd put the show on as a fundraiser and didn't tell her, so at the end of the night, they're going to give her whatever money they made."

  Matthew felt his eyes sting and put his hand over his heart in a genuine gesture of emotion. "That's incredible. Of course I'll come. Dinner first? If there's time?"

  "The show is at seven, and the library closes at six, so if we're quick, sure. There's a pizza by the slice place on the way there. Actually, it's a pretty good Italian restaurant, but they also do pizza by the slice." Sarah made a face. "I'm talking your ear off, and you have work to do. And so do I!" She waved and hurried off, leaving Matthew alone.

  Alone with piles of boxes that told the story of a town whose kids were good-hearted enough to try to raise the money to send a friend off to her dream college. Matthew's eyes stung again, and he rubbed his nose briskly, then got back to work.

  * * *

  Judging from the number of people at the park, the show's real goal genuinely was a secret known to everyone but the recipient. Sarah left Matthew sitting on a lawn chair with a stack of pizza slices while she ran backstage of the raised-platform mobile stage to do last-minute costume assistance. She came back only a minute or two before the curtain went up, whispered, "Disasters averted!" and sat beside him in a crowd of hundreds.

  "What's Virtue's population?" he whispered back, and she laughed.

  "There are about four thousand people in the town proper. I don't think more than a fifth of them are here tonight." By intermission, though, Matthew thought the crowd had doubled in size, and when a hat got passed around to add to the scholarship fund, he was more than happy to throw some money in himself. The girl playing Audrey was wonderful, and deserved every chance she could get. Sarah beamed at him. "Thanks. I know you don't have any ties here, so that's really kind of you."

  "I don't need ties to see talent." They finished their cold pizza, enjoying every minute of the show, and Matthew thought the whole audience held its breath when it ended.

  The whole cast came out for their curtain call, but as Audrey and Seymour were about to leave, one of the kids to step forward and say, "There's one more thing," to the audience. Then she turned toward Audrey, and said, "Actually, it's one more thing for you, Mirielle. Can you come up here, please?"

  Even from the distance, the girl playing Audrey blushed with obvious confusion as she approached center stage again. "I know tonight was your last big hurrah for theater here in Virtue," the speaker said. "And I know you've decided to do your first couple of years at Onondaga because you're hoping to save up enough to go to NYU."

  The lead actress—Mirielle—looked down with a tight smile, then up again with a much brighter one, clearly putting on as good a performance now as she had a few minutes earlier. "It doesn't matter where I start, right? It's where I'm going!"

  A cheer and applause went up from the audience, but the young speaker patted them down. "That's true. It is true. And everybody in Virtue knows that in five or ten years you're going to be accepting an Oscar...but we think you shouldn't have to wait to get started. So this is...this is for you. This is the, I guess you could call it the Virtue Public Assistance Scholarship Fund. It's from all of us, Mirielle. It's why we did this show, and a bunch of other things this spring, it was all so we could help you get to NYU and your dreams, and...and here. For you."

  An adult—probably the director—came out as the girl was finishing up. She turned Mirielle toward the director, who unfolded an enormous mock-up of a check, with numbers written big enough to be seen all the way at the back of the audience.

  Matthew involuntarily whispered, "Holy shit!" as the crowd broke into roars of approving delight.

  Sarah clutched his arm in excitement. "I knew we had a lot, people have been giving money to the fund for months, but I didn't know it was that much! Oh my gosh! She's going! She's really going!" She threw her arms around him, hugging him so hard she nearly knocked them both over sideways. Matthew grunted and laughed, trying to catch them, and hugged her in return. She was warm and soft in all the right places, and she smelled incredibly good. Not like perfume. Possibly like caramel sauce or cotton candy. Something very...lickable, anyway.

  Lickable was not a thought he should pursue in the middle of a celebratory crowd. Matthew pulled his mind back from the idea with reluctance to say, "Congratulations. You've got a great town here."

  "We really do," Sarah said, all sniffly.

  'Sniffly' seemed to be the word of the moment, in fact. Everybody around them was suspiciously bright-eyed, except those who had full-on tears running down their faces.

  Among those was the scholarship recipient herself, who had actually fallen to her knees and was now invisible to the audience, as her castmates had swarmed her with hugs and supportive affection. All of them were in tears, too, and the show's director was stoically trying not to cry, without the slightest bit of success.

  Matthew's bear sighed happily. This is a good den for many cubs.

  Yeah. Yeah, it really is. Not that Matthew was staying, or thinking about cubs, but his oso was right, and Matthew didn't mind agreeing with it. He smiled at Sarah, "Thanks for bringing me to this. It's not...I think not everybody would. This is a moment for the town, and I'm an outsider, so...thank you."

  "Well," Sarah said, still sniffling, "it gives you an idea of what we're trying to preserve, with the archives. And I guess with the charter, too. I'm glad you came. It was more fun with somebody."

  "Can I go backstage and see that amazing Audrey Two costume?"

  Sarah laughed. "It'll be at the library by the weekend, probably. That's how I end up with most of my monster costumes to terrify the kids with."

  "You go to that much effort for a one night show every time?"

  "Usually they run for a few weekends, but this was a special occasion. And a bunch of the costumes I make go into their costume department, but Audrey is sort of...distinctive. Hard to repurpose a giant carnivorous plant into much of anything else."

  "Maybe the beanstalk in Into the Woods?"

  "Or the magic flowers in The Secret Garden?"

  "Well, the roses weren't really magic, were they?" Matthew asked thoughtfully. "There's not really any magic in that story, just the kids believing in it because they're kids, and everything is magic."

  "Oh my goodness. Are you actually perfect? You understand! Yes! But all the adaptations put magic in anyway, which is why they all make me cringe just slightly, but if I'm trying to find another musical to cast Audrey Two in, it's the best I can do."

  "Wait, there's a musical? I only know the book and a couple of movie adaptations."

  Sarah's beautiful gaze lit up. "Oh, have I got a treat for you. It's got a handful of really wonderful songs. I'll put it on the library's playlist tomorrow."

  "Are you in the habit of subjecting all library patrons to musical theater?"

  Sarah gestured broadly at the stage full of weeping, happy teenagers. "Hey, where do you think Virtue Community Theater got its start?" She paused, then, with a rueful-sounding honesty, said, "Okay, it got its start like fifty years ago, way before I was even born, but darn it, it sounded good!"

  "It sounded great." Everything Sarah Ekstrom said sounded great to Matthew. He could listen to her enthuse about anything, all day long.

  His bear didn't actually say anything, but somehow Matthew hea
rd its smugness anyway.

  Sarah left him for a few minutes, joining the happy throng of friends congratulating the young actress. Matthew, from a distance, thought he was as content to watch her as he was to listen to her. She felt like part of the heart of the Virtue community, vibrant and vital. And she'd welcomed him as if he belonged, too.

  Which he didn't. Summer job, he reminded himself again. The position waiting for him in the city a month from now was the one he'd worked toward his whole life, in the kind of place he'd always seen himself as belonging. There would be a community there that he would fit into.

  But it won't have her.

  "Hush, Oso," Matthew said aloud, if quietly. "Life doesn't always work out the way we dream it will."

  Sarah returned, wiping her eyes and smiling. "All right. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm supposed to be at work bright and early in the morning, so I've got to get home."

  Matthew offered his arm. "I'll walk you back to my car and give you a lift, if you like."

  "I'd take you up on it, but I live between here and the library." Sarah threaded her arm through his anyway and Matthew felt a swell of...

  ...well, honestly, more than one thing swelled, and it was probably better if he tried not to notice that too much. He cleared his throat and Sarah's eyebrows rose curiously. "Nothing," he said a bit hoarsely. "I'll walk you part way back to my car, then, and then you can abandon me to the dangers of the Virtue night."

  "Ah, yes. Roving bands of feral teenagers and the occasional curious raccoon. I'm sure you'll be very threatened."

  "Hey, feral teenagers can be dangerous!"

  Sarah laughed. "True enough, although I don't think of Virtue's kids as being bad. Probably because I was one." She tossed her hair, miming innocence.

  "I believe you," Matt said with almost embarrassing sincerity.

  "As well you should! Do I look like the kind of woman who would lead you astray?"

  Matthew made a show of pausing to examine her. She'd worn an entirely different kind of ensemble today than yesterday: a long fitted light-weight knit top in burgundy and leggings underneath, all of which he supposed were more suitable for being a dragon than the pin-up-girl style she'd worn before. "I don't believe I'd object if you did, Ms. Ekstrom."

  Her smile lit up and she tucked her arm through his again. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought she snuggled a little closer as they walked. "Thank you, that makes me feel as if I have a chance at being an evil seductress or something. Usually I feel like a hot mess."

  "I don't know why. You're gorgeous."

  "Oh." She gave a startled laugh. "Thanks. I guess it's because I'm always running around like a headless chicken. I'm usually literally hot—"

  Matthew grinned, and she laughed again. "I mean, overheated. Sweaty. Gross. Ah, yes, Sarah, good job, make yourself sound very appealing to the new guy in town.... But anyway, overheated and too busy, that's generally me."

  "Are you really too busy? You seem to enjoy it."

  "I love it," Sarah confessed. "But it does kind of leave me too busy for romance, anyway, so I try not to think about being a hot mess."

  "Maybe romance will sneak up on you." Matthew wondered immediately if that was a ridiculous thing to say, but Sarah's smile flashed and her eyes sparkled.

  "I can hope. And...this is me!" she said as they approached a driveway. "Thanks for the walk home. I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

  "Bright and early," Matthew promised, and she took her leave.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Matthew Rojas's question lingered with Sarah long after he'd left her. Was she really too busy?

  She wasn't, of course, because she did enjoy all the madcap events she participated in and organized. But her follow-up answer was really what troubled her. I'm too busy for romance, anyway.

  In her defense, there wasn't a lot of romance to be had in Virtue, unless she wanted to date people she'd known since she was six years old. Keeping crazy-busy was a way to distract from that.

  But now there was Matt himself, the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on, who was also thoughtful, observant, kind, funny, and thought she was gorgeous. Kind of perfect, in fact.

  Except for the minor detail that he was only in Virtue for the month, of course.

  Sarah had never really been the summer fling type, but she was beginning to think she should give it a shot.

  With that in mind, she definitely didn't dress extra-carefully in the morning, trying to look outrageously cute while also trying not to look like she was trying too hard to look outrageously cute. Which meant she changed clothes four times and ended up in the world's most boring snug cotton pants and a lightweight scoop-necked t-shirt, because it was already too hot for jeans. She was actually late getting to the library because of all that, and decided romance wasn't worth the worried faces of parents who'd arrived right at 7:30, hoping to drop their kids off, only to find their reliable de facto daycare was seven minutes late opening.

  But then at the stroke of nine, Matt came in with a single shot extra chocolate mocha for her, and Sarah thought maybe romance was worth it after all. Not that he was romancing her. Thoughtful men were worth it, that was it. Either way, Matthew and his espresso went into the archival room, and Sarah spent the rest of the morning floating on the boost of caffeine and—much more importantly—having been thought of by someone who didn't need something from her.

  During a lull just before lunch, Matthew poked his head out of the archival room. "Got a minute?"

  "For you? I have five." That was the dumbest thing anyone in the history of the world had ever said. Sarah went into the back trying to figure out how to actually kick herself without drawing attention, but failed. "What's up? Oh my."

  Every box in the room had been moved, and now a couple-three dozen of them were on a shelf that had also been moved, in front of all the tables in the room, which had also been moved into one giant surface. A giant surface that was covered with old books, one of which was open, neatly stacked papers, and sheafs of heavy envelopes the ivory tones of aged paper. "Wow. Okay. Wow, you've...wow. Okay. What's up?"

  Matthew apparently didn't notice, or mind, that her vocabulary had been reduced to five or six words. He all but bounced around to the shelf he'd moved, not quite touching the boxes as he gestured to them. "These are the oldest materials the library has. Some of it dates at least as far back as the 1790s, and I'm half convinced when I'm finished going through it I'm gonna find one of the original copies of the Declaration of Independence. I haven't found the charter in here yet, but there's quite a bit to go through and it's delicate, so it might take a while."

  "And these?" Sarah brushed her fingers above the open books.

  "So those are town council records." Matthew bounced back toward her and Sarah grinned.

  "I've never seen somebody this excited over council records."

  "It's not quite as good as 400 year old maps for doodling on, but it's pretty good," he said happily. "Here's the thing, though. This one's from 1810 through about 1840—"

  "Wow, thirty years at a go?" Sarah supposed the tomes were huge, and the handwriting cramped, ink long since turned brown on ivory-colored pages, but three decades per book seemed like a lot.

  Matthew pointed a finger straight upward, as if she'd hit on exactly what he wanted to say. "That's part of what's interesting, yeah. I mean, it depends on what kinds of records anybody keeps, of course, and these are obviously essentially minutes for town meetings. Most of it's dry as dirt, although there are some juicy judicial bits that we're not going to get sidetracked by."

  Sarah laughed. "Any stories about people ending up in the jail?"

  "We're not getting sidetracked," he told her again, more sternly this time. As sternly as he could with his eyes sparkling behind those dark-framed glasses, anyway. Sarah could stand to be looked at with that stern sparkle all day long. Or better yet, all night long.

  Not that Matthew had made any such offer, but a girl could dream. Sa
rah shook the thoughts off, though, and tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Something about not getting sidetracked. "Right, right. Okay, so what's interesting about it, then?"

  "First, this one references the first council book, which I can't even find, so that's interesting. Second, here, what's this say?" He pointed out a phrase, which Sarah puzzled out from the old-fashioned handwriting and faded ink.

  "Um, basically check the front of the book for the charter. Oh! You found it!"

  "Check the front of the book." Matthew sounded like he was encouraging her to uncover a mystery.

  Sarah, eyebrows lifted, carefully turned the pages back to the front of the book. For a moment, it just looked like the first page was the town council meeting notes from early January, 1810, but then she caught her breath and leaned in more closely. "It's gone. They're gone. Somebody cut them out!"

  "Really, really carefully," Matthew agreed. "I ended up getting out a magnifying glass to make sure I wasn't imagining the cut edge there. But here's the thing. Check the next one."

  Sarah shot him an anticipatory, interested glance, then opened the next book, and, after a moment, the next and the next after that, until every town council book up until 1960 lay open before her.

  Every single one of them had the first pages very carefully cut out.

  Sarah fell back a step, staring between the books and Matthew. "What the actual," she said, and after a judicious pause, finished with, "Heck," which made Matthew laugh.

  "What the actual heck indeed. That's what I want to know. Here's what I do know. Assuming copies of the charter have been taken from all of these books, none of them are the original charter we're looking for anyway. That's more likely to be in there," he said, nodding at the envelopes and sheafs of paper. "It's also possible that it was bound into the missing town council book, the one that precedes 1810. When was Virtue...incorporated isn't the right word, but I don't know what is. Decreed. Made official?"