“Good note.”
After about twenty minutes, I’m on the second Monday of March when Jay says my name. “I found it.”
He’s pointing at a photo of several young women in evening gowns and pageant sashes. The headline reads “Local Beauties Compete for Crown.”
“Phoebe, look.” He enlarges the caption beneath the photo. “It has all of their names, first and last.”
I do a quick count. “Eleven contestants. Read it. Let’s see if it gives us any information on them.”
“‘Joan Hubbard, a green-eyed brunette with a twenty-three-inch waist, was crowned the new Miss Serendipity at the conclusion of the annual three-day beauty contest on Saturday.’” He reads through the overview of the competition from the preliminaries through swimsuit judging and interviews. “‘The public portion began on Saturday evening with an announcement of the five semifinalists, who then entertained and impressed the audience in the civic theater during the talent competition. The prize went to Martha Nixdorf for her lively performance on accordion.
“‘The evening gown portion followed with the top prize going to Joan Hubbard. Her maidenly pale pink beaded gown won extra applause when it was revealed she had it made locally at Diane’s on Main Street instead of by a Boston or New York dressmaker.
“‘In the final interview section, the young ladies answeredquestions about what it means to represent Serendipity Springs and how they reflect the city’s values.
“‘After what the judges assured the master of ceremonies was a challenging discussion, the winner was announced and Joan Hubbard was presented as the new Miss Serendipity. Miss Serendipity will be supported by her court made up of the other finalists.’ Then the article lists them.”
“Let me see.” I scoot my chair over and read off the names. “Katherine Dailey, Natalie Betts, Cathy McCormick, and Judy Everett.”
“Any of them look like they would call a man Dear Heart?” he jokes.
I take pictures of the article and the photo caption naming all the contestants. “Whatever happened to them, I hope Martha Nixdorf the accordion player married into a better last name.”
Jay gives me a sharp look and glances around. “You can’t make regressive statements in the library of a former women’s college, or you’ll be haunted by the ghosts of all the old spinsters who never married because they were too bookish.”
“Can you zoom in on the photo?” I study the enlarged picture of the eleven contestants, their flawless skin and demure pearls. “Do we agree that one of these is Smitten Kitten?”
“We do.” He also takes pictures of the article. “How do you want to tackle this? Put me in, coach.”
“How about you take the finalists, and I’ll look up the other six?”
“It’s not going to be Joan Hubbard because she’s not a teacher.”
“True. Does Smitten Kitten strike you as an accordion player?”
“She does not.”
“Let’s cross off Martha Nixdorf too.”
“Shhh,” he hisses. “Her ghost will hear you.”
“Saint Czestochowa will protect me. Never mind,” I say when he gives me a confused look. “That leaves me with five names and you with four. Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, I’m on it.”
“I’ll reshelve these.”
“I’ll turn off the machines.”
A minute later, he finds me crouched in the microfilm section, sliding the boxes into place. He holds out a hand to help me up, and when I take it, I’m surprised to feel the light rasp of calluses against my palm. The friction sends a pulse of electricity down my back, but I force myself not to react. Instead, I blink and let go, turning to lead us out of the aisle.
When we near the reference desk, Sexy Librarian spots us and comes around to lean against it as we approach.
“Find what you’re looking for?” she asks.
Nothing about the way Jay and I have interacted suggests we’re a couple, so I understand why she’s shooting her shot. But she is every woman on every dating show who says “I’m not here to make friends.” I want to tell herCareful, because your girls will be here long after the boys move on.But maybe she’s got a great girl gang. Maybe she’s only ignoring me because I’m standing next to the man she’s got her eye on.
Whatever. I’m not in this competition, so I smile at her in a way that saysI hope you win because I don’t care. A flicker of concern crosses Jay’s face, and Sexy Librarian’s flirty smile wavers for a split second.
