Louisiana Saves the Library (6 page)

“They need two librarians at their main branch. It wouldn't be that bad. It's twenty-five miles, but we'd be going against traffic. Most people live out there and work in Saint Jude.”

“I'm not worried about the traffic. I've been to the library—if you can call it that.” Louise sat back down at the table and rested her head in her hands.

“That's right. Your library project. How's that going?”

“It's not. But I can tell you that Alligator Bayou is three trees away from nowhere.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Sylvia drained her wineglass.

“No. I don't. But the library building looks like the Department of Motor Vehicles with a few extra bookshelves, the librarians are glorified file clerks, and the director has short-man complex.”

“I don't care,” Sylvia said. “I want to keep this house. We don't have much savings. Dumb, I know. But we kept thinking we'd start socking some away and then we had kids and bought this house and . . . you know. If I don't get a job, we lose it.”

Louise exhaled, but the tension in her body remained. “Yeah, I'd probably lose mine too.”

“If we hate the place, we can find something else. It won't be forever.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Good. Do you want to make dinner? There's a premade pizza crust in there. Jake should be home in a few minutes.”

Louise waved this off. Even though Sylvia didn't do much more than heat chicken nuggets and frozen pizza, she had a professional stove, a massive refrigerator, and a large kitchen island with a wooden top that was basically a huge cutting board. Louise always welcomed the opportunity to cook there.

She stuck her head in the stainless steel fridge and checked out the selection of produce. Ten minutes later, she had a pot of pasta on the stove and the beginnings of a salad.

“That doesn't smell like pizza.” Sylvia had moved to one of the couches and turned on the afternoon cartoons. All three children stopped playing to stare up at the TV.

“Nope.” Louise cut up some salami and mozzarella to mix in with the pasta. Cooking never failed to make her feel better. She felt almost optimistic about Alligator Bayou. Maybe they could give the library a makeover. It sure needed one.

Jake arrived just as Louise was mixing together the pasta ingredients. He turned off the TV, convinced the boys to come to the table, and strapped Zoe into a booster seat. As they all sat down together, Louise wished for the hundredth time that she could switch places with her best friend. She would like to be tall and beautiful with a nice husband. Even with their current problems, Sylvia led a charmed life. Jake would find another job and it would all work out. Louise wasn't so sure about herself. Her life seemed like a complete disaster.

C
HAPTER
7

T
wo days after New Year's, Louise drove Sylvia into Alligator Bayou for their first day of work. As the strip malls and big-box stores of Saint Jude gradually disappeared, nothing was left except trees, grass, cloudless blue sky, and occasional roadkill.

The closer they got to the library, the more Louise worried. They were going to work in an institution that had ground to a halt sometime around 1987. No one used it; no one cared about it. She and Sylvia would either have to resurrect the library or go crazy with boredom. She also dreaded Brendan's inevitable caustic remark: “Geez, Louise. You can't do any better than
that?
”

“You know, I've lived here all my life and I never came to Alligator Bayou Parish until we had our job interviews,” Sylvia said.

“Really? I thought you majored in Louisiana studies.” Louise was surprised. Sylvia acted as Louise's guide to everything Southern. She'd explained to her Yankee friend that ordering a sandwich “dressed” meant with lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise; stressed the importance of a termite contract on her house; and talked her through her first experience with a hurricane threat.

“Ha-ha. Little-known fact: my undergraduate major was biology. But seriously, I never had any reason to come to Alligator Bayou. I mean, look at this. We're only ten miles outside of Saint Jude and there's nothing here.”

“So far, I've counted two dead opossums, one raccoon, and a shredded tire.”

Sylvia pulled down the sunshade mirror and refreshed her lipstick. “To be honest, I really don't know much about rural Louisiana at all. I'm a New Orleans girl. I wouldn't even be in Saint Jude except for Jake's job.” She flipped the shade back up and sighed. “Former job.”

“I guess we'll have to learn fast,” Louise said. She got off at the Alligator Bayou exit, passing a junkyard and a service station with two gas pumps. After that, they drove by a succession of dilapidated houses and mobile homes set back from the road. Yards were decorated with broken-down cars and lawn ornaments varying from fake wells to nonfunctioning toilets. Instead of trash cans out front, the houses had metal cages designed to keep wildlife from pawing through the garbage.

Louise turned onto the main drag of downtown Alligator Bayou—the Icy Cone, the Stop 'N' Gas, the Cut and Dye. For nine hours on weekdays, this would be their street, their town.

Sylvia shook her head as they came to the Piggly Wiggly. “There really is nothing out here.”

“There are a courthouse and city hall somewhere. I think maybe on Main Street. Do you want to look? We have time.” Louise wasn't in a hurry to get to the library. As long as they were in the van, she could pretend that they were just visiting.

“No.” Sylvia leaned back in her seat. “We'll see it eventually, I guess. God, I am so tired. I need coffee. Is there anywhere to get a latte around here? A Starbucks, maybe?”

“Yeah, right next to the gourmet sandwich shop and the twenty-four-hour spa.”

“Right.” Sylvia sighed again.

“You got us into this, remember?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“The story of my life.” Louise pulled into the library lot and parked next to a white van. She wanted to turn around, drive back to Saint Jude, and forget about Alligator Bayou. Except that there was nothing there for her anymore. She didn't belong at A&M, and it was only a matter of time before she'd have to sell the house. There was no way she could afford it on a public librarian's salary.

“You look miserable,” Sylvia said, taking off her oversize movie-star sunglasses. “Come on, we can do this.”

“I miss my kids.”

“Oh, please. They are having a great time. They love school. It's good for them. Stop feeling guilty. You are doing what you have to do.”

“I guess so.” Louise got out of the car. She was wearing a navy-blue suit with nylons and black pumps. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet, and the panty hose already itched. She wanted her jeans and T-shirt back.

Sylvia wore a billowy white shirt, black pants, and three-inch heels. She looked like a slumming model. “It's go time,” she said, stepping out of the van and tossing back her long, thick hair.

Louise shouldered her bag and regarded the low brick building with trepidation. The surrounding weedy grass was tawny brown, and the live oaks from the vacant lot next door stretched their branches toward the library, as if protesting its presence. She imagined that the forest wanted the library back, but the truth was just the opposite. More and more land was being cleared nearby for clapboard housing developments and fast-food restaurants. She even heard construction equipment rumbling in the distance, like the threat of rain.

Louise speculated that there were no other buildings around the library because of the train accident. Thinking about the unidentified chemicals dumped on the land made her skin itch even more. She sniffed the air, but all she smelled was Sylvia's perfume.

Sylvia was already on her way through the glass doors. Louise adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and followed.

“Here we are. Our library,” Sylvia said.

Louise didn't answer. If Sylvia hadn't been standing next to her, she might have started crying. She didn't want to be in this crappy nontown in the middle of nowhere scanning bar codes, as Adwell had put it. Thinking of the professor, she tried to summon the will to prove him wrong. There were people in town who deserved library services, and this completely inadequate facility was all they were getting. She and Sylvia were going to change that. She needed to focus on the challenge. Otherwise, she'd spiral into depression.

Lily came out from behind the counter. Her dull brown hair had been roller-curled and hair-sprayed into submission. She wore the same blouse and slacks that Louise remembered from her research visit. “Ms. Louise. Nice to see you again.”

“You too,” Louise said. “This is Sylvia Jones.”

“Yes, I know.” Lily took Sylvia's hand in both of hers. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Sylvia flashed her biggest smile. “Are you going to show us around?”

“Yes. Mr. Foley and Mr. Henry should be here soon. But first you all have to clock in.”

Sylvia raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows as they went into the back work area. The last time Louise had clocked in for a job was when she was in college, working in the dorm cafeteria. Sylvia had probably never used a time clock in her life.

Someone, maybe Lily herself, had used an actual typewriter to put Sylvia's and Louise's names on beige time cards. Lily showed them how to insert the cards into the old-fashioned time clock. It made a
ca-chunk
that indeed brought back college memories. Louise had hated that tedious, mind-numbing cafeteria job. After quitting, she'd used her uniform shirt to polish her black Doc Martens.

“Y'all have any coffee?” Sylvia asked.

“I just made a pot,” Lily said. “This mug here is Hope's, and this one is Mr. Foley's. You can use any of the others.”

Sylvia chose a cup decorated with flowers and poured some coffee. “Whoa, mama. This is strong.”

“We have creamer and sugar.”

While Sylvia doctored her latte substitute, Louise looked around their new work environment. Four cubicles smaller than bathroom stalls lined the back wall, and carts of books were parked at odd angles around the room. The main branch of the Alligator Bayou library system would have to employ enough people to order new books, take care of payroll and accounting, and manage the other three branches. Someone also had to coordinate children and young adult programming. The numbers didn't add up. Either most of the employees had more than one job description or a lot of work wasn't getting done.

Next to the kitchenette was a glassed-in office with its miniblinds tightly closed.

“That's Mr. Foley's office. He's the director,” Lily said.

“I saw him the first time I was here. For the research project,” Louise said, trying to make her voice sound neutral. Mr. Foley had been strangely absent during Louise's and Sylvia's job interviews. Mr. Henry had made an excuse for the director that he didn't even seem to believe himself.

“That's right. You surely did.” Lily poured herself some of the midnight-black coffee and added a generous amount of sugar. She concentrated on her cup, stirring.

She had to be embarrassed about hiding when Zoe knocked over the romance-novel rack. Was Mr. Foley really enough of a monster to justify that kind of fear? If so, taking this job was a huge mistake.

Sylvia drank some coffee and set the cup down on the counter. She was so tall, especially in her high-heeled boots, that she seemed too big for the kitchen, too big for the small-town library. Still, she leaned against the counter with the ease of an actress playing the role of her life. Louise wished she had her friend's poise. But her panty hose were cutting into her belly fat, and her feet already hurt in the stiff shoes. She was uncomfortable in every possible way.

When a loud crack sounded from the patron area, even Sylvia jumped. Louise had visions of rednecks wielding guns, but it was just the circulation desk's half-door slamming. Mr. Foley shuffled in wearing slipper-like, backless shoes. Up close, he didn't look like someone who ran a library system. His polo shirt had a frayed collar, and the cuffs of his khaki pants had been stapled, not sewn.

Louise had been dreading this moment. Would he recall her children wreaking havoc in the library? If he did, he probably thought she was an incompetent mother and he'd conclude that she wouldn't be any better as an employee. Not a good way to start her career as a public librarian.

“Lily, I've told you before, haven't I? We don't unlock the doors until eight o'clock. We don't need the public wandering in before we're open.” The library director put his hands on his hips in a surprisingly ladylike gesture.

“Yes, sir,” Lily said, hanging her head.

Mr. Foley turned his frown into an unconvincing smile. “You two must be our new librarians. Welcome.”

Louise searched his bland face. If the director remembered her, he gave no sign. She shook his pudgy hand. It felt like sandpaper.

Sylvia had to bend down to greet her boss. She gave him the full force of her white teeth.

Mr. Foley's smile faltered, just for a moment. Louise almost thought she'd imagined it. Everyone liked Sylvia. Even if they didn't want to.

“Well, I'll leave Lily to show you around,” he said, ducking into his office.

“What a lovely man,” Sylvia said, her voice sweet and sarcastic at the same time.

Lily turned on a computer with a label machine attached, bending down lower than she really needed to in order to accomplish the task. Louise detected the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

“Direct us to our digs, would you?” Sylvia said.

Lily straightened up. “Of course. There are two empty cubicles. This first one belongs to Matt—he handles the computer system and payroll—and the last one is Hope's, but y'all can decide who gets the other two.”

Each cubicle had a window facing the parking lot. Louise was grateful for the view of the outside world, even though there was nothing to see but asphalt, railroad tracks, and the trees beyond.

“I'll take the one near Hope,” Sylvia said. “I hear she's very entertaining.”

“Am I?” The librarian appeared behind Lily, demonstrating her eerie sneaking yet again.

Sylvia extended an elegantly manicured hand to Hope's rough one. “Sylvia Jones.”

“So I've heard.” Hope pumped Sylvia's hand. “I'm supposed to teach y'all our computer system. You got a lot of book learning, but you ain't ever worked in a public library, am I right?”

“No,” Louise said. “We haven't. But I'm sure we can learn.”

“I need to get up front in case we have any patrons,” Lily said, backing away. “Good luck, y'all.”

“Set up your stuff and then we'll go see Mr. Henry,” Hope said.

Louise went into her carpeted stall and tested her desk chair. Unlike the museum relic in her A&M office, her new chair was less than ten years old and featured black cloth and an adjustable seat. The computer wasn't much newer than the furniture, though, and it made an ominous cranking noise when she pushed the power button.

As she sat down on the chair, her foot hit something under the desk. She got down on her knees and pushed the chair out of the way. Stacked up underneath her desk was a trove of outdated equipment: two rotary-dial telephones, a roll-paper fax machine, and a dot matrix printer. Louise put the machines on the desk, one at a time.

“Where'd you get all that stuff?” Hope asked.

Louise hefted the fax onto the chair and rolled it toward her. “A time machine from the 1990s.”

“Good Lord.” Hope picked up the machine and examined it. “Let me get a box.”

Sylvia came out of her cubicle. “Hey, how come she got all the cool stuff?”

Hope loaded the fax into an empty paper box, stepped into Louise's cubicle, and piled in the rest of the equipment. “This here's embarrassing. Mr. Foley done said he got rid of this junk.”

The back door opened, and the assistant director walked in. “Good morning, ladies.” Though almost six feet tall, Mr. Henry hunched over in a way that made him appear shorter. He seemed to be only in his sixties, but he moved slowly, like a fragile old man.

“I'm just gonna toss this junk in the trash,” Hope said.

“Where did all that come from?” Mr. Henry asked.