“Uh, I think so,” Marcy said. “It should be, at least.”
“Thanks.”
Harper pushed out her chair and hurried over to the children’s corner. There were already a few little kids waiting with their moms or older siblings.
This was part of the summer reading program at the library. Harper or the librarian would read a book aloud to little kids a couple times a month, acting out the voices and engaging the audience as much as possible. Since the librarian was still traveling the world on her honeymoon, that left Harper to do it.
She didn’t mind, though. In fact, she usually enjoyed interacting with the kids. It was fun getting them excited about reading, especially when they were so young. They didn’t care if it was cool or not—they just liked a good story.
Today Harper liked it for a different reason. It kept her distracted. She needed to get her mind off Gemma, although the book Where the Wild Things Are didn’t help much. It had been one of Gemma’s favorites when they were kids, and Brian used to read it to them almost every night, acting out the parts.
At least she had that going for her. Harper already had her father’s dazzling renditions of the characters to use as inspiration. This should be her best story-time performance.
She got the book off the shelf, then settled into her chair in the children’s corner. As more kids came in, they sat around her in a circle. From where she was, Harper could see Marcy at the desk, loading up the book cart and directing children to story time as they came in.
When it was time to begin, Harper threw herself into her performance. All the kids came here today to have a good time, and it was her job to deliver, no matter how worried or distraught she might feel.
And as she read, Harper found herself having fun despite herself. She had the kids join in, and when they were gnashing their terrible teeth and roaring their terrible roars, she couldn’t help but smile.
It was all going well until she was nearing the end of the story and heard the front door open. She lifted her head, expecting to see a late-arriving child, but instead it was Daniel, striding up to the front desk.
Her heart skipped a beat, and for a second Harper forgot how to read. She fumbled over the words, but she’d recovered by the time Marcy pointed back to the children’s corner and Daniel turned around to smile at her.
Harper quickly averted her eyes, forcing a smile down at the little kids in front of her, and tried not to think about how foxy Daniel looked today.
What Harper found even more unnerving than her own feelings for Daniel was his banter with Marcy. He leaned against the desk, apparently waiting for Harper to finish the story, and chatted amiably with her.
Nobody chatted amiably with Marcy. Not even Harper, and Harper was pretty much her best friend.
It wasn’t that she was jealous, but she couldn’t imagine what they were talking about. Her real fear was that they were talking about her and Marcy might spill some hideously embarrassing secret.
Of course, Harper knew that it shouldn’t matter what Marcy said to Daniel. In fact, it would be better if Marcy told him something that would turn him off of her forever. She didn’t have time to get involved with him. Since he hadn’t called and told her he’d found anything about Gemma in a voice mail, Harper thought it was a safe bet that this was a social call, and it probably would be better if Marcy got rid of him for her.
But then … Harper didn’t want that, either. She knew she didn’t have time to like him, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t like him. She just wished she didn’t.
Harper did a slipshod job of the last quarter of the book, and she made a promise to herself that she would make it up to the kids at the next story time. But none of the kids complained. They seemed happy just to have an excuse to roar.
Some of the children and their parents tried to talk to her after she’d finished the story, and Harper did her best not to rush them. She smiled and reminded them about the next story time in July. When a mother told her how much she loved Maurice Sendak, Harper even recommended other books she should check out.
But the very second she could, Harper extracted herself from the children’s corner and went over to the front desk, where Daniel was still talking with Marcy.
“No, I don’t doubt that,” Daniel was saying, laughing at something Marcy had said.
Marcy, for her part, wore her usual blank expression, giving Harper no indication of what they could’ve possibly been talking about.
“Hi,” Harper said, and her voice sounded oddly high-pitched to her own ears, so she rushed to correct it. “Hi. Um, were you looking for a book?”
Daniel had been leaning forward, his arms resting on the desk, but he turned so he could face Harper, leaving one elbow on the counter. His smile widened when he saw her, and she noticed the fading cuts on his cheek.
When Penn had been that awful bird-monster on Bernie’s Island, Daniel had rushed in with a pitchfork to defend both Harper and her younger sister. But Penn had lashed out, scratching him across the cheek with her claws.
That memory both tightened her heart and warmed it. The horror of the monsters still frightened her, but knowing that Daniel had put himself in harm’s way to protect her … it was hard not to feel something for him.
“What book were you reading them?” Daniel asked, pointing to where she’d been for story time. “Because that looked like a lot of fun.”
“Where the Wild Things Are. I can get it for you, if you want.” Harper moved like she meant to, and Daniel reached out, gently putting his arm on hers to stop her.