After the meeting, Lindsey wheeled their cart of brown paper–covered books out to the display area she had cleared off for them in the high-traffic area by the front doors.
She was happily arranging them, admiring the work the crafternooners had done in writing their intriguing descriptions to entice readers to choose the books, when she saw someone approach out of the corner of her eye. She turned with her what-can-I-do-for-you smile firmly in place when she recognized the red blond hair and twinkling green eyes.
“Robbie,” she cried. “You’re back!”
“I am,” he said. He opened his arms and hugged her close.
“How was the trip? Do you want some tea?” she asked. Just the sight of him made her realize she had missed him more than she thought, and she was genuinely pleased to see her friend. She squeezed his arm and asked, “How are you?”
“Funny you should ask,” he said. He tilted his head to the side and gave her an almost shy smile. “I’m divorced.”
The Briar Creek Library Guide to Crafternoons
Sharing a book, a craft and some delicious food with good friends is the basic recipe for a successful crafternoon. Lindsey and the girls like to mix it up by reading all sorts of different books, from classic to contemporary, from literary tomes to bestselling genre fiction. They also enjoy trying out new crafts and new recipes. Attached are some suggestions to kick-start your own crafternoon, but remember, the most important part is to have fun!
Readers Guide for The Daughter of Time
by Josephine Tey
The title The Daughter of Time comes from a quote taken from Sir Francis Bacon that reads, “Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority.” What did he mean? Do you agree with this idea? Why or why not?
Tey’s premise in the book is that historical facts, such as Richard III murdering his brother’s children the Princes in the Tower, often become warped over time and by political agenda. Do you agree or disagree? Can you think of any historic events that later proved to be false?
The hero Alan Grant, a Scotland Yard detective, is known for his skill at physiognomy, the ability to read a person’s character by their appearance. To relieve his boredom during a hospital stay, he is taken with a portrait of Richard III and decides that the man in the portrait was kindly and not capable of the murders he was rumored to have committed. Do you believe that a person’s character can be ascertained by their facial features? Give examples for why or why not.
It is clear that through the detection done by her protagonist Alan Grant, Tey set out to make the reader rethink what has always been accepted as fact, that Richard III was evil. As an avid reader, is it possible for a work of fiction to change the way you think? Give an example.
Lastly, having read Tey’s book, do you believe Richard III guilty of murdering his nephews, or do you think it was a malicious rumor spread by the Tudors to discredit the last Plantagenet?
Craft: Paper Flowers Created from Scrap Paper
Scissors
Scrap paper, preferably with words on it
Colored markers
Hot glue gun
Florist wire
Buttons
Cut the scrap paper into the petal shape of your choice. They can be round, oval, teardrop shaped, anything you choose. Cut a variety of sizes, four large, four medium, three small. Using any colored marker, color the outer edge of the petals. Once the glue gun is primed, glue the large petals together at their bases, leaving a small opening for the florist wire to be fed through. Next repeat the process with the medium- and small-sized petals. Once you have all three done, take a button and feed one end of a length of florist wire through it. Now use it as the center of your flower and string first the small, then the medium, and lastly the large petals onto the wire. Use the glue gun to make the petals secure. When the glue is dry, shape the flower by folding the outer edge of the petals back to make it look like the flower is wide open.
Recipes
BETH’S IRISH SODA BREAD
2½ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
½ teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
½ tablespoon baking powder
½ stick unsalted butter, softened
1¼ cups buttermilk, shaken well
1 large egg
1 cup raisins
1 tablespoon caraway seeds
1 tablespoon melted butter
Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour a large baking sheet. Whisk together first six ingredients.
Mix buttermilk and egg in separate bowl then add to flour mixture until dough is moistened but still lumpy. Add the raisins and caraway seeds to the dough and knead on well-floured surface about 8 times to form a soft and less sticky dough. Pat into 6-inch round dome on baking sheet.
Cut a ½-inch-deep X on top of the loaf with a sharp knife, then brush the loaf with melted butter. Bake in the middle of the oven until golden brown, 40 to 45 minutes. Transfer loaf to rack to cool completely.
SERVES 8.
CHARLENE’S SHEPHERD’S PIE
Easy Shepherd’s Pie (Cottage Pie in the U.K.)
1 pound lean ground beef
1 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup frozen mixed veggies (corn, carrots and peas)
6 medium potatoes, peeled, boiled and mashed
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
Brown ground beef. Drain grease if necessary. Simmer beef and season with Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper. While simmering, add frozen vegetables. When vegetables are warmed through, pour mixture into a 2-quart casserole dish. Spread mashed potatoes on top (should be about an inch thick). Sprinkle with cheddar cheese and bake at 350°F until cheese is browned on top, about 30 to 35 minutes.
SERVES 4.
Turn the page for the never-before-published bonus short story . . .
AN UNLIKELY MEETING
“Lindsey, we’ve started crafternoon without you,” Beth Stanley said. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were still in interviews.”
“We would be if our candidate were here, but as it is you’re not interrupting anything,” Lindsey said.
Lindsey Norris, director of the Briar Creek Public Library, glanced at the three people in the room with her and then at the clock. It was fifteen minutes past the start time of the final interview for the day. She glanced at Herb Gunderson and asked, “Should we call it?”
He frowned. Herb was a very cross-the-t’s-and-dot-the-i’s sort of guy, and Lindsey knew he was wondering what timeline the human resources department would give for abandoning the interview of a no-show. Was there a designated limit? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? A half hour?
“Let me make a quick call,” he said. “Maybe you should check your messages and see if the person”—he glanced at the papers in front of him—“this Paula Turner, called. Maybe she’s withdrawing her application or something came up and she has to reschedule.”
Lindsey nodded. That seemed reasonable. “I’ll be right back.”
She followed Beth into the hallway, noticing for the first time that Beth was not in her usual story time outfit. The interviews had run later than she’d expected, and their weekly crafternoon, a lunchtime book club where they did a craft while they discussed the book, was well under way.
“Going well?” Beth asked. “Any stellar candidates?”
“It’s a misery. I had no idea how hard it was going to be to replace Ann Marie on the circulation desk with Ms. Cole. It has to be someone who can handle her and who works well in a library environment,” Lindsey said. “The candidate pool has been underwhelming, and I was really holding out hope for this last one.”
“Maybe she’ll still show. It’s been raining for four days now. The roads are a mess, and I hear a couple of bridges have been washed out because of the floods. When
I came in this morning, the wind was so strong it was blowing the rain sideways. The weatherman said it won’t let up for another day or two,” Beth said. “It could be she got held up in traffic.”
“I suppose,” Lindsey said. Still, she couldn’t shake off her disappointment. She knew she was probably being inflexible, but if Paula Turner really wanted the job, she needed to get to her interview on time, bad weather or not.
They entered the main part of the library, and the automatic doors swooshed open. Lindsey glanced over, hoping to see a woman looking prepared for a job interview, but instead it was her downstairs neighbor Charlie Peyton, a young musician who occasionally pet-sit her furry black puppy, Heathcliff.
“Lindsey, thank goodness!” he cried. Charlie was soaked. Despite the raincoat he wore, his pants and shoes were sodden, and his long black hair was hanging in thick strands that dripped water onto the rubber doormat.
“Charlie, are you okay?” Lindsey asked.
“I’m fine, except . . .” His voice trailed off as if he had to go and gather his next words before spitting them out. “I lost Heathcliff!”
He lifted his hands, and Lindsey saw the familiar collar and leash clutched in his fingers, and she felt her heart free-fall from her chest to her feet.
“What do you mean lost, exactly?” she asked. Her voice came out shrill, and she tried to cough it back to its normal register.
“I took him out to do his business,” Charlie said, “and we were headed back to the house when all of a sudden, he started putting up a fuss. The next thing I knew, he’d popped his head out of his collar and was running down the street as if he was being chased by a knife-wielding clown. Oh, wait, I think that’s my issue. Well, you get the point. He ran off. I thought he was coming to you. No?”
“No,” Beth said. She shook her head. “I’ve been working the front desk all morning. I would have seen him.”
Lindsey scanned the library, but there was no furry black puppy wriggling his way through the stacks. She hurried to the circulation desk where the library’s old-school librarian was checking in materials.
“Ms. Cole, excuse me, have you seen my dog?” Lindsey asked.
Ms. Cole lowered her reading glasses on her nose and studied Lindsey. “No dogs are allowed in the library.”
“I know that.” Lindsey blew out a breath of exasperation. “But it seems that Heathcliff got away from his dog walker, and he thought he might have come in here.”
“When Mr. Tupper was the director—” Ms. Cole began, but Lindsey cut her off.
“Yeah, yeah, dogs weren’t allowed, I get it. If you see my dog, please call me,” Lindsey said. She turned to Charlie and asked, “Where else have you looked?”
“No place, I came right here,” he said.
“All right, I’m going to get my jacket and go out and search,” she said. “Maybe he just got distracted by a ripe garbage can somewhere.”
“I’m coming, too,” Beth said.
She followed Lindsey into the workroom, where they kept their coats and umbrellas. They zipped up their fleece-lined jackets with the extra-large pockets, grabbed umbrellas and hurried back into the lobby.
When they arrived they found the rest of their crafternoon group, Nancy Peyton, Violet La Rue, Charlene La Rue and Mary Murphy, all wearing coats and carrying umbrellas, looking ready for action.
“Charlie told us what happened,” Nancy said. “I sent him into the crafternoon room to dry off, warm up and get something to eat.”
“Good,” Lindsey said. “Sorry, I should have sent him there myself, but I’m a little . . .”
“It’s all right,” Violet said. “We know how much Heathcliff means to you.”
Lindsey felt her throat get tight, and she nodded, since no words were small enough to squeeze past the lump blocking her throat.
“I am sure he’s fine,” Mary said. “He’s one smart pooch. Probably, he’s hiding out waiting for the worst of this downpour to pass.”
“Absolutely,” Charlene said. “Now does everyone have their phone? We can text one another as soon as one of us finds him.”
They all checked their pockets and nodded. They were all so sure that Heathcliff was out there just waiting for them that Lindsey felt her spirits lift.
“How do you want to tackle the town?” Nancy asked. “What are Heathcliff’s favorite spots?”
“The pier for boat rides with Sully, the bakery where they give him treats and the playground because he likes to play with the kids,” Lindsey said. She paused to compose herself as she was flooded with images of him frolicking with the children who adored him, riding on the bow of Sully’s boat and wagging his tail off at Kristen the baker, who always saved him a doggie bagel.
“Okay, that’s a good start,” Violet said. “Nancy and I will take the pier; Mary and Charlene, you hit the bakery; Lindsey and Beth, you start at the playground.”
They moved as one toward the doors.
“Lindsey, where are you going? What about the interviews?” Herb Gunderson came out of the glassed-in room they’d been using.
“They’re going to have to wait, Herb. My dog is missing,” she said.
“But what if our last candidate shows up?” he asked. “I checked, and we’re technically supposed to wait for at least thirty minutes.”
“Tell her to have a seat, and I’ll try to be back in thirty minutes with my dog,” she said. With that, Lindsey led the way out of the building into the cold, wet afternoon.
Within minutes, Lindsey’s shoes and pants were soaked. She didn’t care. The end of her nose was frozen, and her cheeks felt hardened from the cold. Still, the only thing she could think about was Heathcliff. Lindsey glanced at Beth. She looked equally as miserable and determined.
They hurried through Briar Creek’s small side streets, pausing to call, “Heathcliff, come here, boy!”
But no wiggly black dog answered their call. Lindsey couldn’t even be sure he could hear them over the wind, which seemed to grab their words as soon as they left their lips and smash them to the ground as if they were no more significant than the raindrops it used to pelt them repeatedly.
When they reached the park that Heathcliff loved, it was full of puddles but no laughing children and no gossiping caregivers sitting on the surrounding benches. The swings swayed back and forth with each gust, giving the abandoned park a ghostly feeling. Lindsey shivered.
Beth grabbed Lindsey’s arm and pulled her under the large climbing apparatus. Lindsey stepped in a puddle and cringed at the cold that filled her shoe, not that she could get any wetter. The big plastic fort over their heads gave them some shelter from the wind, which was a welcome respite.
“I don’t see him,” Beth said. She wiped the rain from her face.
“I don’t either,” Lindsey agreed. “If he were here, he would have come to us, unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“He’s injured.” Lindsey could barely choke the sentence out.
“He’s not!” Beth insisted. “He’s a smart dog. Something must have caused him to run off like that. Maybe he saw a hot female dog and just couldn’t help himself.”
Lindsey had to give her friend points for trying. “He doesn’t really have a full boy-dog operating system at his disposal, so I’m not sure that would cause him to dash off like that.”
Beth looked unhappy to have her theory squashed. Their phones hummed at the same time, and they gave each other a startled glance.
“Maybe someone found him,” Beth said as they both grappled to pull their phones from their pockets with their cold, clumsy fingers.
Two texts were waiting, one from Violet and one from Charlene. No one had seen Heathcliff, and the other two pairs of searchers were going to separate and see if they could cover more ground.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Beth said. “I’ll t
ext them and let them know that the park is a no-go.”
Lindsey felt the crush of disappointment weigh on her. She shook her head. She was not giving up, not even close. While Beth tapped out a text, Lindsey felt her phone buzz. She checked the screen and saw she had incoming texts from Mike Sullivan, whom everyone called Sully, and Robbie Vine. Both men had heard that Heathcliff was missing, and they were out looking for him, too. She texted them back a status report and a thank-you and felt a surge of hope. Surely, with all of his favorite people looking for him, her sweet boy would be found.
“I hate to leave our shelter,” Beth said, “but I think we’ll have more luck if we split up like the others. I’ll take Grove Road into the neighborhood and knock on doors. Which way do you want to go?”
Lindsey glanced at the area. When she and Heathcliff came to the park, they took a walking path along the marshlands back to their house. There was a big gray cat who hung out in the area, and Heathcliff liked to bark at her; although he never stood a chance of catching her, he sure enjoyed giving chase. The cat seemed to enjoy it, too, which Lindsey found odd. The dirt path was a favorite of Heathcliff’s. Maybe he had gone that way.
“I’m going to search along the path that cuts through the marsh,” she said. “We use it all the time, so it’s familiar to him.”
“All right, stay in touch,” Beth said. She went to leave their spot but then turned back to Lindsey and gave her a quick hug. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”
“Thanks,” Lindsey said. She felt tears sting her eyes, but she blinked them away. She refused to get upset until all hope was lost.
As Beth took off in one direction, Lindsey set out in the opposite. She searched two short neighborhood streets and the back of the churchyard as she went.
A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery Page 25
