Page 77 of Best Year Ever

I send another email, this one to Wanda Chamberlain to let her know about the offer, and that I said yes, and to thank her for the nudge. She’s a world-class nudger.

And now it’s time. I have to face Desi. And this might end in disaster, but I can’t put it off.

I pull my hair up into a messy bun (the only kind of bun my hair will agree to) and tie a scarf around my neck, zip into my coat, and pull on my boots.

The morning is crisp and sunny, the light touching the autumn trees and making them shine like jewels. It’s so beautiful here. Why would anyone ever want to leave? The walk to the library is quick, and I feel all the worry about what I have to do now, but no matter what happens, I’m glad I have this experience. I’m glad I was a student here. I’m grateful for the safe landing Chamberlain gave me when college didn’t work out.

I walk inside the warm entry space and meet Desi’s eyes. She looks surprised to see me. I give a wave and walk over.

“Do you have a couple of minutes?” I ask her.

She looks over her shoulder and sees the student assistants busy at work. “You bet,” she says and nods toward her office.

She sits on the desk, not behind it, and I take the chair opposite her. “I screwed up,” I say, not sure how to ease into this.

She doesn’t say anything, but she’s giving me her full attention.

“I lent my keys to a student so they could unlock a study room. They took one of the keys off the ring and let themselves in to the basement. They got into the tunnels, and they got sick.”

Desi gasps and covers her mouth. I give her a second. I know she’s angry—why wouldn’t she be? More than angry—she must be disgusted. Horrified. I know better than to hand over my keys to a student. And I should have checked to make sure they all came back to me. And now that I’m guilty of helping a student break a rule? She must want me out of here so fast.

“I’m so sorry I was irresponsible, and I understand if you have to fire me.”

Desi drops her hand from her mouth. “What? No. But are the kids okay?”

My mouth hangs open. “What?”

She shakes her head. “Kids steal stuff all the time. That’s not your fault. But you said they got sick. Are they okay?”

Her gasp, her horror—they weren’t about me? About how to get rid of me? They were signs of worry? For Tessie and Hayes?

I stumble through a description of carbon monoxide poisoning. How his was worse than hers, because he spent more time in the tunnels. At some point, she slips off the desk and sits on the arm of my chair, taking my hand.

I’m speed talking, but I manage to control my emotions enough to avoid any more tears. After I assure her that both kids had been checked out by Grayson, I say, “I’m really sorry. And so embarrassed.”

She leans over and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Thank you for letting me know. We’ll get a new lock put on that door today, just in case.” She stands up and takes my hands, pulling me to my feet. “I’m sorry you had such a scare. But if you think I’m letting you go, you’re going to have to try way harder than that.”

Both my hands are in both of hers, and she grins at me. “You’re much too valuable to me and to the library and to the school. I have big plans for you.”

For an assistant librarian with no training? “You do?” I ask. I know I must sound confused, but that’s easy to explain. It’s because I’m confused.

She nods. “You’re going to curate the school’s music library. I’ve been after Mr. Ghibli for years to get his sheet music in order, and he’s finally agreed to let me house it here.”

I shake my head. “Mr. Ghibli won’t let me put a finger on his collection. He hates me.”

“Wrong and wrong.” Desi points to her computer. “If you want to see, I can show you all the emails where he insists that only a specialist can be allowed to curate his collection, and that he’ll only agree to it if you’re in charge.”

“But he hasn’t spoken to me since I came back. Not once. He’s so disappointed that I quit college. That I quit music.”

Desi smiles. “I think you might be mistaken about that. I get the impression he feels like he let you down. But it’s not my place to stand between you two while you navigate this. You’re adults. Professionals. And yeah, artists. So, maybe there’s a little extrafeelinggoing on. But I’m excited for you to take on this project if you’re willing.”

How did we go from my total conviction that I was getting fired for endangering students to this? A cataloging project? There must be a century and a half of music piled up in the back of the orchestra room. And I get to put my hands in all of it.

What is this unusual but somehow familiar feeling? Oh, yeah. Excitement. About another music-related project. I wonder where this might lead. Then I stop myself. I don’t want to imagine away any part of this experience, and I really don’t want to let any of it turn to worry. I just want to feel it all as it happens.

I give Desi a hug, thank her for being the best boss in the world, and head out of the library. It’s even more sunny and glorious outside than it was half an hour ago. Maybe the sun is actually brighter. Or maybe this is the effect of lifted gloom.

I tell myself I’m just walking around campus. Wandering. Enjoying the scenery. But somehow all my turns take me toward the clinic. Toward Grayson.

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