Books and magazines were strewn all over the floor, in the children’s reading area, between the stacks, around the circulation desk. And not just books. Effie’s rock display was scattered all over, and the crocheted turtles were on their backs on the tables. Derek and George’s chess pieces rolled sadly about on the carpet, with the board upended on a beanbag.
The library ghost had struck again.
Chapter 14
ABRACADABRARGH
Bonnie
Dammit! Bonnie grabbed a drinks menu, holding it over her head.
For the fourth time that week, one of her wayward spells had set off the bar’s emergency sprinklers. The fire department had been highly entertained the first time, but seemed slightly miffed the second. The third time it happened, Bonnie had provided pizza and mocktails for the entire crew lest they send her a bill for the inconvenience. And now, well, she was hoping that they’d just leave her to it, because she was starting to feel like she ran a water park, not a bar.
At least she’d become a pro at wrangling the valves of the backflow device, she thought, swiping damp hair out of her face as she dried herself off in front of the hand dryer in the upstairs bathroom. The bar hadn’t even opened yet for the day, so she hadn’t drenched her customers. This time, anyway.
Emerging from the bathroom, she tromped down the stairs, giving a middle finger to the Uncle Oswald aura painting on the wall. If Oswald hadn’t got her embroiled in this whole dastardly collab, she wouldn’t be casting wonky spells and setting off every sprinkler within a mile radius. All right, so sales had been up in the two days since she’d introduced the Memory Lane menu, and Oswald had promptly paid her the agreed-upon percentage of sales the following morning, but this was all a huge pain. Bonnie missed the days when pouringa gin and tonic was enough to call herself a mixologist. This full-time spellcasting thing was far beyond the effort she was used to putting in.
‘Everything all right, Bon?’ asked Bobby, who’d come in early to help with the deliveries.
‘Fine,’ she said, with a fluff of her damp hair. ‘The sprinklers are being temperamental again.’
‘Do you need me to take a look?’ There was an odd hitch in his voice that made Bonnie pause.
Bonnie shook her head. ‘No, it’s just a workflow thing. But thanks. You can help with prep, if you want?’
Bobby hesitated. ‘About that. Since I’m not getting paid for the time, I’m going to need to set some boundaries. Work–life ones, you know?’
Bonnie did not know, actually. For a solid decade, Bobby had been a cheerful presence in her life, always happy to do her bidding. All right, so maybe she’d taken his generosity and reliability a touch for granted. But Bobby seemed happy to serve her, and Bonnie was certainly happier when Bobby helped take a chunk of her infinite daily errands off her plate. She was only one woman, after all, and everyone needed something from her at all times.
Something had changed, but what? Had Effie put him up to this? Her sister was all about unions and fair labour laws and blah blah blah. She’d been very proud of the display she’d put up in the library for Labour History Month a few years back.
She definitely wouldn’t put it past her sister to get into Bobby’s ear about unpaid labour.
‘Sure,’ said Bonnie easily, braiding her hair with as much indifference as she could manage. ‘You know I’d never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. I thought you liked helping out.’
Bobby clasped his hands awkwardly. ‘I do, I do. I did. I was just talking to Kirsty about it, and she isn’t super intoit. She thinks it’s exploitative. And that you’re using your social position to take power over me.’
Bonnie snapped her hair tie in shock.
Well, this was a plot twist she hadn’t seen coming. Since when was Kirsty a psychoanalyst? No, blogging didn’t count.
Not only that, but when had Kirsty decided to lend her new-found psychoanalytical talents to the relationship dynamic between Bonnie and Bobbie? Which she’d completely misread, of course, because there was no dynamic between them. There was just Bobby the puppy dog, and Bonnie the, well, queen bee. Who really could do with the free labour and kind words right now.
‘I didn’t realize Kirsty was a labour organizer,’ said Bonnie archly.
‘She’s not. But we’re kind of dating, I guess, so...’
Bonnie was too damp and frizzy and frazzled to properly compute this. When had this happened? And how? Kirsty had spent their entire childhood mocking Bobby for being too dull and toonice.
And what about the whole Make Theo Jealous campaign that Bobby was an integral part of? Not thatthatwas going well, given that Effie had apparently recruited Theo full time at the library. Maybe the man had some community service hours he had to complete as part of a deferred sentence or something.
‘But Kirsty hates you,’ she said, voicing her thoughts in case it helped Bobbie come to his senses. ‘She thinks you’re destined for a small life in a small town.’
Bobby propped his arms on his dolly, which was markedProperty of The Golden Hour Bakery– the bakery that he and his dad had built over the last decade and a half, and which Bobby would eventually inherit. ‘Well, I probably am, aren’t I? And anyway, is that so bad?’
Bonnie wasn’t sure, honestly. Part of her had always wanted to try her luck in the city, just to see how far she could go.But another part had told her to stay here, where she ruled the roost and was surrounded by people who happily did her bidding. It wasn’t worth it to risk her big fish status here for who knew what elsewhere.
‘But you hate Kirsty,’ she said. Because it was true. Bobby had always warned Bonnie about Kirsty, whose friendship had a cutting edge to it.She’s rooting for your downfall, he’d warned her earnestly one night after a few too many ciders, the drink he described as his own personal truth serum. And Bonnie knew it, always had. But she’d also known that she could handle having a frenemy, just so long as everything else stayed as it was.
