The Carpenter & the Queen by Michelle Lashier Page A

Mona said.
    He nodded.
    “I was thinking about you today.” She gave
him a flirtatious look as she set the package in the canvas bin
behind her. “Francine put out the fliers for more booths at the
Corn Festival. I thought you might want to take out a booth this
year for your chess sets.”
    “That’s nice of you.”
    “I had another idea, too.” Mona smirked,
happy with herself. “There’s a craft fair every August in Canadian
Lakes. You ought to check that out, too. Have you been up that
way?”
    “A few times.”
    “You might need help running your booth,
too,” Mona suggested. “I’m great with people and I wouldn’t mind
giving you a hand, if you need it. Sometimes things get slow, and
it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
    “Thanks. We’ll see how it goes.” He glanced
at his watch. “Better go.”
    The sidewalks were still slushy. Paul picked
his way carefully next door to the library. He didn’t need a new
injury. He realized when he opened the library door that he
couldn’t remember if he had ever been inside.
    The activity and noise level startled him. A
woman with two children in snow suits perused the fiction section.
The children sucked lollipops and kicked each other with their snow
boots. To the left, just in front of the small reference section, a
bearded man in orange coveralls chewed his lip as he pecked out
words on a computer keyboard. In the center of the room, an elderly
lady conversed loudly with the librarian. Paul had not met her, but
given her resemblance to Mona, her identity was easy to guess. Paul
planned to lean against the counter until she was finished with her
discussion about the Corn Festival. He glanced behind him to the
children’s section and noticed a little boy with sandy blond hair
and glasses. The boy wore headphones and turned the pages of a
book. When he looked up, Paul smiled at him. The boy frowned.
    “May I help you?”
    The voice came from a woman, probably in her
mid thirties, behind the counter, and one look at her caused Paul
to inhale sharply. He noticed first the smile that illuminated her
peachy complexion, then her eyes, glowing embers of dark brown. Her
blond wavy hair was cut just above her shoulders, her bangs pinned
to the side with a bobby pin. Her green silk blouse and tan suede
jacket accentuated her curves. She tucked her hair behind her ear
with her left hand. No wedding ring.
    “I’m hoping you can help me find some
reference books with medieval pictures,” he said.
    “What type of pictures?”
    “Women mostly, especially anything related
to Maid Marian.”
    She raised an eyebrow.
    Paul set the printed photos of his
customer’s pieces on the counter. “I need to make a queen that will
match these.”
    She pulled the photos closer and examined
them. “Wow!”
    “Yeah. I’ve got artistic license to do what
I want, as long as it fits in with the rest.”
    “That’s quite the challenge. We’ve got some
strategy books, but not many photos of sets . . . at least, that I
know of.”
    “I’ve already checked my stuff at home.
Something like this exists in pewter, but the design doesn’t help
me.”
    “You’ll need some children’s books perhaps,”
she suggested. “Maybe medieval clothing, paper doll books, prints
of famous paintings . . .”
    “That’d be great.”
    She came out from behind the counter and
motioned for him to follow her to the children’s section. As she
passed the blond boy, she roughed his hair.
    “I thought I saw a castle book here,” she
said. “That might have something.”
    The little boy had turned from his desk and
was watching them. Paul noticed his brown eyes. Was this her
son?
    “So, you’re an artist?” the woman asked.
    “I guess. I would have said carpenter.”
    “Jack of all trades, then?”
    He didn’t complete the phrase. “I’m a rare
breed.”
    She studied the shelves, pulled off a few
books, then held one up to him. “I think the people are too small
in this one.”
    Paul