you’re going to stay there. I think there’s going to be another flood.”
“Flood,” The Library Lady said.
Glinda made it to the third closet, stared in despair at a jumbled mess of rags and old pieces of wood, wondered what in God’s name they had ever been of any use to anyone for, and then wondered at how long it had been since she had locked up herself. Of course, the truth was, it hadn’t been long at all. It was just that she didn’t usually open the closets before she locked them, to see if water had gotten in and done any damage.
“The thing is,” The Library Lady said again, “it was a terrible day to be at the bank. There were so many people there. Maybe they were trying to get in out of the rain. And there was so much confusion. People throwing boxes back and forth and up and down.”
“Boxes?”
“Yes, dear, you know. For St. Patrick’s Day. The bank always puts up that little exhibit, you know, the history of the Immigrants National Bank, the pictures and the little balsa-wood houses that show what the town was like in 1875 or whenever it was. They were doing that today. They were bringing the boxes up from the basement and bringing them down again. It was very distracting.”
“I’m sure it would be.”
“That was how I saw them,” The Library Lady said, “Miss Severan and Mr. Malley. Wriggling.”
“Wriggling,” Glinda said. She was peering into closet number four. It was full of books that had been donated for the library’s annual used-book sale. She locked it up and began moving toward the storeroom. “What do you mean, wriggling?”
“Well, they did have all their clothes on, dear. There was that. But they were wriggling.”
“Wriggling how?”
“It was in the back hall near the officers’ desks. Behind that, I mean. Do you know that hall? There’s a ladies’ room there.”
“Is there?”
“Yes, there is. It’s very convenient. The lines were very long, you see, so I went down to powder my nose. And I was thinking about things, you know, and not paying attention. So when I came out I turned right instead of left.”
“And?”
“And they were wriggling,” The Library Lady said positively. “I saw them as soon as I got to the corner. The hall turns there in the back, you see. I was so preoccupied, I nearly bumped into the wall. But there they were. Wedged front to back in a wooden crate in the utility room they have back there, and him with his hand on her, um, well. Yes. Now, I know, Miss Daniels, I know that everybody in town knows that those two have been going at it for six months, and I know that means Miss Bailey must know too, I mean Mrs. Malley, it’s funny how you never think of her as Mrs. Malley, but that’s not the point, is it? I mean the point is—”
“Wait,” Glinda said.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
Something was very definitely wrong. Glinda was standing right in front of the storeroom door. She had the key to it in her hand, because unlike the closets the storeroom was usually kept locked. It had a thick metal door that had been padded with acoustic insulation, too, which made what she had been hearing, right through The Library Lady’s babblings, even worse.
“Listen,” she said. “Listen hard. Water.”
The Library Lady had come up right behind her and was now standing at the storeroom door. “That doesn’t sound like water,” she said. “That sounds like someone hissing.”
“Don’t be silly,” Glinda said. “There’s nobody in there hissing.”
“I’m just telling you what it sounds like,” The Library Lady said.
Glinda rubbed the side of her face in agitation. All she could think of was the outside door, breached somehow, pushed open by the storm or left open by someone’s carelessness, letting in a thick puddle of filthy wet to ruin the carpet. The vision was so awful, she was having a hard time making herself act.
“Be careful what you pray for,” she told The Library Lady. “Last night I was
“Flood,” The Library Lady said.
Glinda made it to the third closet, stared in despair at a jumbled mess of rags and old pieces of wood, wondered what in God’s name they had ever been of any use to anyone for, and then wondered at how long it had been since she had locked up herself. Of course, the truth was, it hadn’t been long at all. It was just that she didn’t usually open the closets before she locked them, to see if water had gotten in and done any damage.
“The thing is,” The Library Lady said again, “it was a terrible day to be at the bank. There were so many people there. Maybe they were trying to get in out of the rain. And there was so much confusion. People throwing boxes back and forth and up and down.”
“Boxes?”
“Yes, dear, you know. For St. Patrick’s Day. The bank always puts up that little exhibit, you know, the history of the Immigrants National Bank, the pictures and the little balsa-wood houses that show what the town was like in 1875 or whenever it was. They were doing that today. They were bringing the boxes up from the basement and bringing them down again. It was very distracting.”
“I’m sure it would be.”
“That was how I saw them,” The Library Lady said, “Miss Severan and Mr. Malley. Wriggling.”
“Wriggling,” Glinda said. She was peering into closet number four. It was full of books that had been donated for the library’s annual used-book sale. She locked it up and began moving toward the storeroom. “What do you mean, wriggling?”
“Well, they did have all their clothes on, dear. There was that. But they were wriggling.”
“Wriggling how?”
“It was in the back hall near the officers’ desks. Behind that, I mean. Do you know that hall? There’s a ladies’ room there.”
“Is there?”
“Yes, there is. It’s very convenient. The lines were very long, you see, so I went down to powder my nose. And I was thinking about things, you know, and not paying attention. So when I came out I turned right instead of left.”
“And?”
“And they were wriggling,” The Library Lady said positively. “I saw them as soon as I got to the corner. The hall turns there in the back, you see. I was so preoccupied, I nearly bumped into the wall. But there they were. Wedged front to back in a wooden crate in the utility room they have back there, and him with his hand on her, um, well. Yes. Now, I know, Miss Daniels, I know that everybody in town knows that those two have been going at it for six months, and I know that means Miss Bailey must know too, I mean Mrs. Malley, it’s funny how you never think of her as Mrs. Malley, but that’s not the point, is it? I mean the point is—”
“Wait,” Glinda said.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
Something was very definitely wrong. Glinda was standing right in front of the storeroom door. She had the key to it in her hand, because unlike the closets the storeroom was usually kept locked. It had a thick metal door that had been padded with acoustic insulation, too, which made what she had been hearing, right through The Library Lady’s babblings, even worse.
“Listen,” she said. “Listen hard. Water.”
The Library Lady had come up right behind her and was now standing at the storeroom door. “That doesn’t sound like water,” she said. “That sounds like someone hissing.”
“Don’t be silly,” Glinda said. “There’s nobody in there hissing.”
“I’m just telling you what it sounds like,” The Library Lady said.
Glinda rubbed the side of her face in agitation. All she could think of was the outside door, breached somehow, pushed open by the storm or left open by someone’s carelessness, letting in a thick puddle of filthy wet to ruin the carpet. The vision was so awful, she was having a hard time making herself act.
“Be careful what you pray for,” she told The Library Lady. “Last night I was
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