The Mysterious Disappearance of the Reluctant Book Fairy (3 page)

Can it be otherwise than Annapurna's agreeing to give her old friend a bit of respite from the drudgery of her life? While it took more than an initial two or three hours in the company of Monie's children to effect a form of harmony between the women on the subject of literary escapes, they reached an accord on the afternoon when Monie's youngest had a bout of projectile vomiting so severe that nothing other than
The Exorcist
popped immediately into Annapurna's mind. Annapurna then began to see the problem in terms of taking her friend—even for a brief hour or two—
out
of the horror novel in which she was living instead of depositing her into another. And so it happened that Annapurna began to investigate where she could—for want of a better term—set up shop. It had to be in the library, naturally. Her days were spent there, and it was only during the day when Monie's children were in school that it was possible for Monie to escape the chains that bound her to hearth and home.

Such a location had few requirements beyond privacy and the space for a small cot on which the literary traveler could recline. There was the necessity of a temporal anchor, of course, that would bind the traveler to the here and now in much the same way in her previous life young Janet Shore had used her canine's leash for her own trips and her hand within the hand of the traveler when she was entertaining her friends. A boat's line—easily had from the town marina—would do for this, she decided. She would fix it to the door knob of a convenient room so that when she opened the door after Monie's excursion, her friend would rise as if from a pleasant and refreshing sleep. This would, admittedly, be effected by means of a preemptory and rather rough jerk on her wrist from the boat line that would be tied around it, but some things could simply not be helped. Had she been able to be at Monie's side throughout her trip to Monte Carlo or Manderley—really, it was up to her, as Annapurna had no thoughts on the matter other than wonder that Maxim de Winter had not disposed of that nasty bit of business Rebecca much sooner into their tormented relationship—nothing more than her hand in Monie's would have been necessary. But she had to see to the needs of the library's patrons and as luck would have it, Monie's choice of traveling day occurred in the middle of the Red-Hatted Ladies' Book Club Morning, which generally leaked over into the Red-Hatted Ladies' Book Club Afternoon if the edibles were good enough and the literary discussion was fierce.

With all of this in mind, only the library's supply room would offer sufficient space for a cot, privacy from the prying eyes of other library patrons, and a doorknob. Because it contained vast library valuables such as paper stock for the coin operated copier, it also was lockable, a decided plus.

Thus on the very next morning following Annapurna's brief, “All right, I'll do it,” which itself followed soon after the Pillerton offspring's impressive show of projectile vomiting, Monie presented herself at the library. She'd dressed for the occasion. She'd chosen a form of thirties' garb that she deemed suitable, considering the time period in which she supposed the book took place: between the two great wars. At the local thrift store, she'd managed to put together an approximation of that period's dress. That she looked rather like a cross between Queen Elizabeth the Queen mother (that would be the hat and the shoes) and Bonnie of Bonnie-and-Clyde fame (that would be the skirt, the belt, and the sweater), did not appear to concern her. She announced herself as ready and excited and “oh how I've longed for this moment since you first came back to Langley,” in rather too loud a voice that caused Annapurna to shush her. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of her early years in which she'd discovered the pedestrian predilections of her peers in matters literary. To know that they had grown into adults whose tastes had not altered …? Life was hard enough, Annapurna thought.

She stamped three books for a local woman. She answered four questions from a man whose knowledge of how to use the library- provided WiFi began and ended with turning a computer on. When at last she was free, she cast a look round the library to make certain she and Monie Reardon Pillerton were not being observed. Finding the coast clear, she hustled Monie behind the check out counter, through the librarian's office, and into the supply closet, which she had made ready.

A camping cot found on Craig's List would serve as the launching pad. A thin mattress covered it and around this was tucked a quilt purchased at a fund raiser for the town's feral cats, always in want of a decent meal. Mood lighting was provided by a candle carefully sheltered by a hurricane globe. The line of reality—so Annapurna thought of the boat's line that would be used to anchor Monie—lay curled at the foot of the cot.

Monie had brought
Rebecca
with her as her memory told her to do. She confessed herself so excited that she feared she'd “let loose in her pants.” Disconcerted, Annapurna offered her friend the lavatory at once. “Just an
expression
,” Monie said with a laugh. “I
hope
I still have bladder control, Janet.” She winced as soon as she said Annapurna's birth name. She apologized quickly. It was all due to excitement, she said. She could only imagine what it was going to be like to witness Maxim de Winter's proposal of marriage to his youthful, inarticulate but nonetheless soon-to-be blushing bride.

“So you've decided?” Annapurna asked her. “You don't want the Mrs. Danvers scene?”

“Maybe later,” Monie told her, which should, of course, have warned Annapurna of things to come. But at the moment the bell on the checkout desk rang peremptorily.

“You'll have to wait a moment,” Annapurna told her friend.

“Damn it! But there's so little time,” was Monie's reply.

Annapurna wanted to tell her that it wasn't an overlong scene in the book anyway: just the narrator interrupting Maxim in the middle of shaving, followed by her wretched and lovestruck goodbye to him, followed by breakfast on the terrace, followed by an abrupt proposal of marriage made over marmalade which, let's face it, was one of the more forgettable marriage proposals ever made. As Annapurna recalled … Hadn't the word
ninny
even come into play? Perhaps not. But the word
love
certainly hadn't. For heaven's sake, even the imperious Mr. Darcy had managed to cram
love
among the various insults to Elizabeth Bennett's family.
But
… no matter. Monie would get her moment in Monte Carlo in which the narrator's life is turned upside down and in that moment Monie too could dream of what it would have been like to be the wife of the dark, brooding, desperately unhappy but at the same time filthy rich Maxim de Winter.

First, however, she had to see to whoever was ringing the checkout desk bell. And thus she met Mildred Banfry, the woman who would forever alter the existence that Annapurna had grown to find so personally burdensome.

It must be said that Mildred Banfry did not for an instant look like a life changer. She didn't look like any kind of changer at all. She looked precisely the way someone named Mildred Banfry
would
look, although Annapurna did not, of course, know her name in the moment that her gaze fell upon her. What she
did
know was what she saw: gangly, potentially suffering from late onset sexual dysphoria, a horrifying dress sense even for this part of the world which was not known for individuals capable of putting together something that might be deemed “an outfit,” hair that looked as if mowing might be the better choice than a mere cutting, and eyebrows that snaked across her forehead in a manner that could only be referred to as threatening.

Her voice boomed. “Here. You. Are!” she announced at a volume so stentorian that Annapurna felt it very likely that the police department next door to the library and housed within the confines of the town's brick city hall might have been well informed of the woman's arrival. The members of the Red-Hatted Ladies' Book Club certainly were. More than one furious glance was shot from the discussion room in the direction of the check-out desk. “I. Want. A. Library. Card. Do. You. Hear. Me?”

Well, obviously
, was what Annapurna thought.
So does everyone else, my dear woman.
And like so many people who feel uneasy with correcting anyone's behavior, she modeled what was a more appropriate volume, for as far as she knew, the poor woman had never entered a library in her life. Her teeth certainly suggested as much, although the absence of five or six molars couldn't actually make any kind of accurate testimony as to one's literacy or lack thereof. “Certainly,” Annapurna murmured. “If you have something to show me that you're a resident?”

“Course. I. Do,” Mildred hollered. “I'm. Not. Stupid. Do. I. Look. Stupid. To. You?”

Annapurna lowered her head in embarrassment. “No, no. Not at all. If you'll just—”

“You're. Going. To. Have. To. Speak. Up,” Mildred told her. “Or. I. Can. Read. Lips. But. Not. If. You. Don't. Look. At. Me.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Annapurna said quickly, as she raised her head. “Only … If there's any way …?”

“What?” And when Annapurna looked around the library with a gesture to indicate to Mildred that it
was
a library and not perhaps what she thought it might be, which seemed to be a hog calling contest, Mildred said, “Oh! Ha! Too. Loud. Am. I? Didn't. Wear. My. Hearing. Aids. Batteries. Are. Dead. Sorry. Use. This.” And she rooted around in a bag printed with
I've Been To Disneyland!
prominently upon it until she found what she sought, which was a tattered notebook to which a ballpoint pen was attached. “Write. It. Out. Here,” she said. “Mildred. Banfry. By. The. Way. And. You. Are?”

Annapurna wrote out her name and everything that followed. Did Mildred Banfry have an ID showing she was appropriately domiciled somewhere in Island County? She certainly did. She'd brought along her electricity bill—rather amazingly low so that Annapurna wondered if the woman owned a refrigerator or even turned on a single light—and she had evidence of her checking account as well. This latter wouldn't do for evidence of her habitation, but it was of no import because the electricity bill did the trick. Annapurna began gathering what was needed to give Mildred her library card.

It was at this most unfortunate moment that Monie Reardon Pillerton came wandering out of the supply room. As she still had the boat line tied to her wrist and her shoes had been removed for comfort's sake and the sake of the cleanliness of the aforementioned quilt, she did present a rather startling sight since the reader must recall that she was also dressed somewhat unusually for Langley, Washington. Well, not all
that
unusually considering the Red-Hatted Ladies in one room and Mildred Banfry in the other, but anachronistic dressing not being what generally went on in the little town, Monie did garner Mildred's attention. As did the boat's line tied round her wrist.

“What. The. Hell …?” was Mildred's comment, for she was the first person to see Monie emerge. “What's. Going. On. Around. Here?” She cast a speculative eye upon Annapurna. Then another upon Monie Reardon Pillerton. “You. Two. Messing. Around. Or. Something? Hey! Maybe. You. Should. Find. Some. Place. More. Private.”

Annapurna wanted to say that things were not what they looked liked, but she couldn't quite work out what they
did
look like and to her horror, several of the Red-Hatted Ladies had at this point risen and looked as if they intended to charge the check out desk for some sort of confrontation. She said hastily to Monie, “I'll be there in a minute.”

Monie said, “Please,” in a tone that suggested heartfelt longing, which indeed it was. “Annapurna, I've only so much time.”

Of course, this was a message that could be read several ways and Mildred Banfry seemed to read it in a way that Monie had not intended. She said, “Aren't. You. The. Dark. Horse,” to Annapurna, which Annapurna found frankly unfair since she and Mildred had only just met and how Mildred possibly draw any conclusion at all about her metaphorical equine hue?

Foolishly, she said, “It's not what you think,” to which Mildred leered and said, “I. Bet. It's. Not.”

Thankfully, however, their conversation ended when Monie announced that she'd wait where she was meant to wait and Mildred followed this with an unasked for declaration that for
her
part, she'd return for some
literary
recommendations from the
librarian
when
things
weren't so
busy
. Annapurna watched her leave, shouldering her
I've Been to Disneyland!
bag after shoveling through its contents to put her notebook back into place. She only hoped that Mildred was someone who didn't share with other people matters about which she'd jumped to entirely inaccurate conclusions. Annapurna, after all, needed her job.

She repaired to the supply cupboard and found Monie supine as required, her tattered copy of
Rebecca
opened upon her chest. She confessed that she truly wished there was a wedding night to witness between Maxim de Winter and his blushing bride, but Annapurna told her she would have to make a choice among the library's few modern romance novels if she wanted to head in that direction. Monie said she hadn't the time to paw through romance novels at the moment, so her choice of Maxim's proposal of marriage was going to have to do. She confessed that she could not even remember at this moment of anticipation whether Maxim actually kissed the object of his marital intentions at the end of the proposal. Annapurna would have told her that no, she needed to address herself to Maxim's tormented scene of confession—a bullet right through Rebecca's evil heart—if she wanted to see him clasp the soon-to-be world weary wifely narrator in his arms and press his lips upon hers.

Monie settled herself with a happy squirm and announced that she was ready. Annapurna told her that she hadn't sent anyone—even herself—on a literary journey in a good many years so she wasn't sure if she could still manage it. But Monie had faith. She also had a good memory. She said, “It's
welcome me welcome me welcome me home
, and all the rest,” and she closed her eyes and folded her hands over
Rebecca
.