Black Beans & Vice (6 page)

According to the letter, her younger sister had recently been
widowed and was having a difficult time caring for herself due
to some complicated health issues. After giving the matter much
thought, Mrs. Waxman had come to the decision to move into her
sister's condo in Phoenix.

"Therefore, it is with no small measure of regret nor shortage
of gratitude that I tender my resignation. This is my official twoweek notice," she'd written in her tidy script. "It has been an honor
and a joy to work as an employee for the Shenandoah County Library and to share these wonderful years with Francis and Scott
and with you, James Henry. For those who believe library work
is dull, they have never had the privilege of working in your employ. Thank you for making my Golden Years so fulfilling. I am
very proud that I had the chance to know you as a bright young
boy and now as a fine man, community leader, and father. I wish
you the very best."

Mrs. Waxman's signature became blurred as James' eyes grew
misty. He sniffed and simultaneously inhaled a giant breath in an
attempt to gain control of his emotions. Folding the letter into a
small rectangle, he avoided looking at the twins for a moment in
order to fully collect himself.

"What's that song our local Brownie Troop sings at the end of
their monthly meetings?" he asked the brothers. "The one about
friendship?"

The twins answered in perfect unison. Without the slightest
hint of shyness, their bass voices lifted together in song, "`Make
new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold."'

James nodded. "That's it. Let's look at this as an opportunity
to make a new friend while keeping in touch with an old one. I'll
put an ad in the paper first thing. We only have two weeks to find
someone to meet our high standards." The brothers didn't seem
overly cheered by the idea of a new employee. "You two know as
well as anyone how much I dislike change. But the biggest surprise
of my life, finding out that I had a son, was also the most wonderful. Who knows? Your new coworker might just be a sci-fi loving,
video-game playing bibliophile. She might even be your age. That
wouldn't be so horrible, would it?"

As he was already dating Milla's business partner, Willow Sin-
gletary, Francis just shrugged, but Scott instantly brightened. "You
raise an excellent point, Professor! We have the chance of a lifetime
to pick the perfect coworker. Can you put all the requirements you
just mentioned in the classified ad?"

James swatted the younger man with a parenting book and all
three moved off to begin their daily duties.

After prepping the coffee machine in the break room, James pushed
the brew button and went into his office to compose an ad for a
part-time librarian.

"Wanted. Part-time library assistant," he spoke to the empty
room. He paused, sharpened his pencil, and resumed. "Must be available weeknights from 5 to 8:30 p.m. and Saturdays from 9 a.m. to 6
p.m. High school diploma required. Customer service and computer
experience a plus." Placing the eraser nub against his lips, James hesitated again. "How can I say that the suitable candidate should love
books, be able to tolerate even the most aggravating patrons with courtesy, and be prepared to soothe anxious toddlers and tangle with
surly teenagers? How can I say that each book must be treated like a
crown jewel and though the salary isn't very high, it is worth every
meager cent to be able to serve the public as we librarians have served
them for hundreds of years? The ad would cost a small fortune if I
could ask for what I truly wanted!" James tossed the pencil down and
sighed.

He then picked up the phone and dialed the main number of
the Shenandoah Star Ledger. "I'd like to place a classified ad," he
told the woman on the other end of the line. When she gave him
the go-ahead, he dictated the words and then added a line saying
that any interested candidates should phone him for an interview.

"So have you heard the big news, Professor Henry?" the young
woman asked breathlessly after their business was concluded.

"Apparently not," James replied pleasantly.

"Your famous ex-girlfriend is back!"

Frown lines furrowed across his brow. "What do you mean?
Has she released another book so soon?" He struggled to recall if
the library had received a postcard similar to the one he'd been
mailed at his father's address announcing the debut of Murphy
Alistair's thrilling mystery, The Body in the Bakery.

"Not yet. I think the sequel comes out a week before Christmas. But she'll be able to tell you all about her future bestseller in
person.

James knew he was being baited, but he couldn't stop himself
from asking, "And why would that be the case? I thought she spent
most of her time in New York or on tour?"

"Not anymore! She's come back to Quincy's Gap!" The girl
shouted in triumph. "In fact, she bought The Star! She's moved into one of those big old houses off Main Street and is working
on her third book. A celebrity! And now she owns the paper where
she used to work! Can you believe it?"

The news hit James like a punch in the gut. It was bad enough
that his former flame had written a novel portraying him and the
rest of the supper club group as fat and goofy amateur sleuths,
bumbling their way through a small-town murder investigation.
Whether out of spite for having been dumped by James or merely
for the sake of comic exaggeration, his character was especially inept and spineless. Though he'd refused to read the book himself,
he'd heard more than enough about it from friends and library
patrons to be angry and embarrassed by his fictionalized persona.

"Professor?" The young woman's voice penetrated his unpleasant reverie. "Are you there?"

"Please place the ad as soon as possible," James answered as
though he hadn't heard the unpleasant announcement that his exgirlfriend, local reporter-turned-celebrity novelist, had returned
to stir up more strife. "Thank you and have a nice day."

James hung up the phone and walked over to his window. He
let his eyes rest on the brilliant green hue of the spring grass bordering the tidy sidewalk and then lifted his gaze toward the parking lot, as though Murphy Alistair was sitting out there in her car,
plotting the next chapter in which she would make certain to depict him as a corpulent fool once again.

"Why did she come back?" he asked the pink dogwood blossoms at the edge of his vision. "Half the town hates her because
of how she described them in her book." On the other hand, he
had to admit that many citizens were pleased with Murphy, citing
her novel as the reason so many tourists had flocked to Quincy's Gap over the course of the year. In fact, the number of visitors had
nearly doubled, bringing much-needed income to small-business
owners. Milla had told James several times that she'd made sales
to tourists who'd asked her numerous questions about the "real"
people described in The Body in the Bakery. Of course, Milla always tactfully replied that she hadn't been around when the actual
events occurred, so she couldn't attest to the truth of Ms. Alistair's
version.

James turned away from the window and strode out to the circulation desk, his fists balled in irritation. The morning had gone
from bad to worse. First, Eliot's declaration, then Mrs. Waxman's
unexpected retirement, and now, the return of a troublesome exgirlfriend.

"Are you okay, Professor?" Francis asked as he passed by with
the shelving cart.

A hunger pang awoke in James' belly and he looked at his
watch without really noticing the time. "Hold the fort, Francis. I'll
be right back."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Francis saluted and gave the cart a mighty
heave toward the open space where patrons lined up to wait for
assistance checking out. Scott darted from behind the Information
desk and deftly caught the cart. In a continuous and fluid motion
he pushed it toward the Children's Corner while giving his brother
a thumbs-up behind his back.

James never left the library during the morning. Occasionally,
he'd meet one of the supper club members for a casual lunch at
Dolly's Diner or he'd eat a sandwich in the Bronco while running a
few quick errands, but he and the twins had a system for handling
midmorning coffee breaks. James would brew the coffee around ten o'clock, as he had this morning, and then he'd take a mug
into his office to review emails or complete necessary paperwork,
such as balancing the budget or placing orders to the library supply company. When he reappeared at the circulation desk, Scott
would venture into the break room next. He'd repair a few hardcovers while bolting down a Twinkie and a cup of milky coffee or a
Mountain Dew. He'd then switch off with Francis.

In this relaxed manner, all three enjoyed a leisurely morning's
work. They never got behind because they all worked during this
respite. No one kept track of the length of these sit-down times
and no one took advantage of them.

Yet now, James Henry, Head Librarian, was blatantly leaving
the building just as the coffee pot finished percolating. Knowing he was unbalancing their perfect system, he jumped into the
Bronco and drove northwest to the nearest Wawa. Once inside, he
filled up a Styrofoam cup with French Vanilla-flavored coffee, and
selected half a dozen doughnuts from the Krispy Kreme display.

"Were these baked this morning?" James asked the clerk.

"Yessir. The truck came in at five-thirty. They were still warm
enough to fog up the glass after the deliveryman unloaded them."

James pulled the bag to his chest and inhaled the scents of
chocolate, cinnamon, powered sugar, baked dough, and glazed icing. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Inside the privacy of the Bronco, he reached into the bag and
pulled out the doughnut on top. At this point, he didn't care which
of the six varieties his fingers closed around. Any one of them
would do. Unhinging his jaw like a python attempting to swallow
his oversized prey whole, James sank his teeth through the layer of chocolate icing and into the soft, cake-like dough. An explosion of
sugar coated his teeth, gums, tongue, and the roof of his mouth.
For a moment, he was completely lost in the overwhelming power
of the sensation. It was heavenly. It was, he admitted silently, a total high.

It took all of forty-five seconds for James to consume the
doughnut. He then licked his fingers, took a sip of coffee, and
leaned back against the seat with a sigh of contentment.

"I needed that," he murmured, noting how his anxiety had
drained away. He immediately felt calmer and more optimistic.
Turning the engine on, James pulled out of the Wawa parking lot
and headed back to Quincy's Gap. He breezed through the lobby
doors as though it was completely typical for him to have left work
for a doughnut run. Still, when James raised the white and green
Krispy Kreme bag in the air so that Francis could see it over the
head of the elderly patron he was assisting, the younger man's eyes
sparkled with delight.

James placed the bag in the center of the round table in the
break room, removed a blueberry cake doughnut from the bag,
and placed it on his desk blotter for later. Returning to aid the patron waiting at circulation, James looked over his shoulder and
smiled as the Fitzgerald brothers circled the pastry bag like sharks,
bickering good-naturedly over which treat to enjoy first.

"We'll cut them in half, bro," Scott suggested. "That way we get
to try them all."

"Totally!" Francis happily agreed. "Do you think this will become a new tradition? The Monday morning sugar rush?"

After a pause in which James imagined his employee's mouth
was crammed with a glazed cruller Scott said, "Nope. The professor
is going to be hypnotized after work today, remember? This might
be the last time we'll walk into this break room and find one of Milla's cakes or Mrs. Waxman's pies or Mrs. Goodbee's brownies."

Francis groaned. "That would be a total tragedy for us, bro." He
sighed. "Well, at least we've got Willow's chocolates to eat at night."

"You got that right!" The brothers exchanged high-fives while
James loaded the last two books in the Harry Potter series into
a Friends of the Library canvas tote bag. "You're going to enjoy
these, Mrs. Gibb."

"Oh, I know I will!" The old woman cackled. "I saw the boy
who played the movie Harry Potter onstage in England." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "What a play! That boy
was as naked as the day he was born! Cute little tush on him too."
She patted her tote bag. "It's gonna be real hard to picture him
back in the old Hogwart's robes again, but I'll do my best!"

Doing his best to hide a grin, James set to work on the hold
and transfer requests until Scott reappeared from the break room.
His upper lip was lined with chocolate frosting and a sprinkling of
powdered sugar covered the front of his navy polo shirt.

"I don't know how you're going to live without it, Professor.
Sugar, I mean. All the best-tasting food is filled with loads of sugar
or loads of salt. Your giving that up would be like Francis and me
being hypnotized to lose our love of video games."