Lending a Paw(8)

They froze. Except for the princess-fixated girl. She was so focused on the golden-haired pictures on her lap that she probably wouldn’t have heard lightning strike the ground next to her.

A big, bearded man came up the steps and glared at the kids one by one, starting with the oldest boy. “Trevor. Rose. Cara. Patrick. Emma. Ethan. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“It was here, Dad,” the smallest child said. “And you were going to be on the phone a long, long time.”

Dad glanced at his watch. “Five whole minutes is indeed a long time.” He sent me an amused look. “But you knew you were supposed to wait for me.”

“It was here,” the princess girl said. “And look!” She brandished the book at him, a cover of pinks and purples and gold.

“Again with the princesses.” He shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

“It’s good!” She pulled the book to her chest. “It’s my favorite!”

He patted his daughter on the head and held out his hand to me. “Chad Engstrom. And, yes, they’re all mine. Three sets of twins, what are the odds?”

“Minnie Hamilton,” I said, shaking his hand. “They were hesitant to come on the bookmobile. Now I think I understand.”

“Kids,” he said, sighing. “Can’t live with them, can’t leave them out on the street for someone else to take.”

“You’re stuck with us,” Trevor said, his nose buried in a biography of Thomas Edison.

Chad made a deep, menacing, growly noise. “And you’re stuck with me. What do you think of that?”

“We think we love you,” they chorused.

I laughed out loud. A scene like this would never have happened inside a library. If this was what driving a bookmobile was going to be like, I was hooked.

A hand tugged at the hem of my cropped pants. “Do you have a book about a puppy?” A girl—Cara? Or was it Emma?—looked up at me, her small face full of hope and expectation.

“You bet,” I said promptly. For two months I’d done little except get ready for this day. I knew every inch of the bookmobile. I knew how many steps it was from front to back, I knew the mechanical systems inside and out, and I knew every single book on the shelves. “Right over here.”

As soon as she was settled, another hand tugged at my pants. Big blue eyes filled with question marks looked up at me.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Miss Minnie. What’s your name?”

“Ethan.”

“Hi, Ethan. How can I help you?”

“My dad said you’d show me the bookmobile.”

“Absolutely,” I said just as a quiet thump came from inside Eddie’s cabinet. “Why don’t we start at the back?”

I showed Ethan and his father the wheelchair lift, spent some time over the strapped-in book carts that I’d soon be wheeling into senior centers and day cares, and told him how the books and DVDs and CDs and magazines were arranged. The top half of my brain was engaged with being a bookmobile librarian. The bottom half, however, was running around in frantic circles. How long could Eddie stay in the cabinet undetected? I knew he’d survive the day if he didn’t eat anything, but by noon he’d start complaining that he was starving to death. Loudly.

“What’s in there?” Ethan pointed at the critical cabinet.

“Storage,” I said. “Paper towels. Glass cleaner. Nothing interesting.”

Eddie gave the door a thump. I gave it a light whack, hoping the child would think I’d made the noise both times.

“Mrr,” Eddie said.

“Shhh,” I whispered.

“Sorry?” Chad asked.

“Shoot,” I said quickly. “I forgot to bring a book your children might have enjoyed.”

“Oh? What?”

Four years of undergraduate work in library science, two years of graduate school, nine years of working in libraries, college summers working in a children’s bookstore, not to mention my own book-filled childhood, and my brain was dry of any suggestions. I gave a sheepish smile. “Afraid I can’t remember the title. I’ll try to—”

“Dad, look!” Ethan pointed. “The cabinet’s moving!”

“Leveling,” I said, putting my heel firmly against the door. “The bookmobile must not be completely level, so the door is opening on its own.” Or it would have, if there hadn’t been magnets holding the door closed, but there was no need to bother these nice people with that little point. I braced my heel against the bottom of the door, trying for a casual pose. “Do you have any other questions?”