The Carpenter & the Queen by Michelle Lashier Page B

squinted at the busy page with
characters that were the perfect size for Where’s Waldo? “I
already need glasses. . .”
    She grinned and handed him another. “This
might be too cartoony.”
    Paul agreed. He thumbed through the other
choices, but none held the inspiration he required.
    “What other options do we have?” he asked.
“Isn’t there an inter-library loan, or something?”
    “Governor cut that in the budget, otherwise
I could have gotten you some great stuff.”
    “So, what are my options then?” “Drive to
Grand Rapids?” He was already figuring the cost of gas into his
estimate.
    “Maybe not,” she said, lowering her voice.
“I’ve got some medieval picture books and Robin Hood stuff at home.
I could bring it by tomorrow and you could take a look at it—in
here, of course.”
    “That’s very generous of you.” Paul felt
pleased at the promise of seeing her again. “Are you a medieval
historian?”
    “Amateur enthusiast. Well . . . geek.”
    “Are you one of those people who wear the
costumes to Renaissance Fairs?”
    She laughed in a musical way that did not
sit with Paul’s preconceptions of how a librarian should laugh.
“That’s an interesting question.”
    A smile tugged at the corner of Paul’s
mouth. She was flirting with him. If only he could think of
something clever to say, but his wit was paralyzed. He couldn’t
bring himself to take it further. “I’d appreciate anything you
could show me. When should I come by?”
    “Before lunch would be best.”
    She smiled so freely. He could get used to
such a smile.
    “My name’s Paul, by the way.”
    “I’m Claire. And that’s Sam.”
    The little boy lifted his head at mention of
his name.
    “Snow day,” Claire explained.
    “How old are you, Sam?”
    Claire raised both eyebrows at her son,
prompting him to answer. Sam turned back to his book, and Claire
sighed. “Eight.”
    “Does he play chess?”
    “Oh, he plays. His strategy is creative at
times, but he’s getting better.”
    “I’ve got nieces who are the same way.” Paul
surprised himself at his willingness to volunteer information. “I
figure it’s a learning curve.”
    “In the meanwhile, I’m losing badly,” Claire
admitted.
    “Join the club.”
    Paul knew this was the time to leave, while
he still sounded witty.
    “See you tomorrow morning, then. And thanks
for your help.”
    As he drove home, Paul would not allow
himself to consider anything in too great of detail too early.
However, he was looking forward to returning to the library the
next day, and it was the first time in a long while that Paul had
looked forward to anything.

8
     
    “Caught a live one, have you?”
    Francine nodded toward the library door Paul
had just exited.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Claire was still so surprised at herself that she was unwilling to
admit anything.
    “I saw you flirting.”
    “I was only being friendly. Good customer
service, you know.”
    Francine didn’t look convinced. “He’s
divorced. From Chicago. My sister’s had the biggest crush on him
forever.”
    Claire’s heart sank a little. “I hope that
works out for her.”
    “No, you don’t,” Francine teased. “She’d
talk him to death anyway. She’d talk any man into an early
grave.”
    Claire chuckled as she pulled some books out
of the return bin and checked them back in.
    “You dated much?” Francine asked.
    “Not at all.”
    “Oh, come on! In four years?”
    “Nope.”
    “What’s with men these days? You’re a
beautiful woman.”
    “I’ve got a lot of men in my life,” Claire
said with a shrug. “Sam and Garrett keep me busy.”
    “That’s a rotten excuse.”
    “And I still miss Will.”
    “If you’re waiting for that to change,
you’ll be single the rest of your life.”
    When Claire and Sam got home from the
library that afternoon, Sam ran to his PlayStation, tired of a day
spent looking at words. Claire climbed up the stairs to the room
where