Page 14 of Crimson Promises
Riley: Alright, it’s a date.
Aurora: It’s coffee.
Riley: Whatever you say, mysterious girl. See you later! Don’t stand me up. I’ll go all Cinderella Story on you.
Aurora: See you.
This flirting wasn’t as hard as I thought.
* * *
The Canmore Library inside Ol’ Eleanor was a sight to behold. The interior of the building was rebuilt from the dingy 1960s decor into a light-filled, largely open-concept space that favors flexibility and a grand reading room. Drool. It wasn’t the library I regularly hid away in—that was ACU’s main library, Charlotte Williams.
My scholarships had covered most of my tuition, and Dad was gracious enough to help me cover the loft, but I didn’t have much money floating around. I needed a part-time job. Purposely, I applied to Canmore Library because of its smaller size and reduced foot traffic. Ol’ Eleanor was out of the way and housed the university’s special collections reserved for postgraduate fellows. They tended to keep to themselves. My kind of people.
A rectangular circulation desk sat in the center of the room, flanked by towering box shelves. To the rear of the desk was a set of double glass doors that opened to the grand reading room. A white-blonde-haired woman around my age with a slicked-back ponytail greeted me.
“Welcome to Canmore Library, home of Arch Cape University’s rare and special collections. How can I help you today?” She wore a pressed ivory satin blouse tied tastefully in a bow closer to the right column of her neck. Everything about her was impeccable.
“Hi there. My, uh, name is Aurora James. I’m supposed to be starting my first day of work here.” I tucked my hands behind my slightly wrinkled black shift dress.
Her friendly expression fell. She wrinkled her nose. “I wasn’t informed of any new hires beginning today.”
I reached into my side bag and pulled up the email confirming my offer of employment. “Someone named Jean Roberts sent it.” I held the phone to her, tapping my finger at the name.
She snatched the phone out of my hand, using two fingers to zoom into the text. “I’m not prepared to train you. We’ll have to arrange another day for you to come in.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What was I supposed to say? I spent my entire childhood avoiding girls like her. Rude and entitled.
“Chelsea, that will not be necessary.” A curly white-haired woman emerged to my right between the rows of books. “Last time I checked, you didn’t have the authority to hire or fire staff. Or am I mistaken?”
Chelsea frowned. “Jean, I wasn’t firing her, per se. I recommended we arrange for her to come in another day so I can prepare training materials and a schedule to show her the ropes. No one informed me she was starting.”
“First of all, her name is Aurora, as I am confident I overheard her introduce herself to you,” Jean said in a crisp accent. “Second, while you do your job extremely well, Chelsea, Aurora will not be working at the front desk and will not need to be trained by you. In the future, I would advise you to tread carefully when making authoritative decisions about the running of this library. It is well above your pay grade.”
Chelsea looked stricken, as though she had been told Santa Claus wasn’t real or, in her case, that the pink lipstick that she artfully applied was loaded with chemicals.
“Follow me, Aurora.” She disappeared back into the stacks of books.
“I didn’t mean to cause any problems back there.”
“You didn’t. Chelsea is good at her job. Otherwise, her personality is that of a muskrat—though she isn’t one to forget she's been slighted. Word to the wise: I would stay clear of her if I were you.”
“Duly noted.”
Jean stopped in front of a glass door similar to the entrance of the grand reading room except for the digital keypad and a sticker beside it that resembled a black triangle.
Looking at the floor to give her privacy, I noticed Jean and I were wearing the same pair of leather loafers. Hers was styled with trousers, a white blouse, and a blazer, which beautifully set off the deep tone of her chocolate skin. In my next life, I wanted to come back as Jean.
A beep diverted my gaze back to the keypad.
Jean held the door open and gestured for me to head inside first.
As I passed the threshold, Jean’s voice trailed after me, “Welcome to Canmore’s rare and special collections.”
My eyes drifted higher and higher as the stacks of bookcases climbed into the peaks of the Ol’ Eleanor’s turrets. I drew in a sharp intake of breath.
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
