The library held several summer events. The most exciting was the dance festival, presenting ballet troupes from Boston. Amy Tyrer, head of programming for the library, handled the logistics, coordinating with Grace Pindell, the president of the library’s board of trustees. Edith Simon, the library’s director, had the responsibility for attending all these galas and festivities, and she did it with her trademark dignified charm. Beverly Maison, the children’s library director, also did her charismatic meet and greet at the summer events.
Darcy held down the fort. She took care of a hundred daily minor matters, ordered books, coordinated story hours, and in a pinch manned the circulation desk or did a story hour.
Her job was delicious. It was a joy to do the behind-the-scenes slog that kept books available for children or to wander into the staff kitchen for coffee and a chat with the staff and volunteers. The town newspaper came out once a week, on Thursday morning, so it was fun to hear about who bought what house for how many millions, who filed for divorce or bankruptcy, who was in the court report. Two of the circ desk women were party girls, spending every night at bars and parties, returning with all kinds of fun gossip. As they said, if you want to know anything, ask a librarian.
At five o’clock, she said goodbye to everyone and headed home. The town was pleasantly busy but not frantically overcrowded as it became during rainy or windy days later in the summer. People were arriving for their summer rentals, settling in, preparing their home base for the next month or two. If any place on the island was busy, it was the Stop & Shop, where families were filling their carts high, so they would be stocked with food and beach chairs, sun block and tonic water, and could spend the next few sunny days at the beach.
Darcy walked up Main Street, leaving behind the small business district for one of the most beautiful avenues in the country. Wide enough for two buggies to pass each other on the cobblestones of the street, upper Main was graced by historic mansions. Brick or shingled, stately and aloof, these dignified houses had been built by the owners of the whaling ships that had made the town wealthy in the early half of the nineteenth century. The extremely wealthy lived in them now, for a week or so in the summer, before moving on to another of their houses in California or Switzerland. Still, their landscapers kept the flowers blooming all summer and into the fall.
She turned off onto Pine Street, narrow, one-way, and shaded by a canopy of trees. As she walked, she spotted a car parked in the driveway to the left of her house. Aha. More new summer neighbors.
An older woman leaned on a cane, inspecting the hydrangea planted in the small area between the sidewalk and the front of the house. As Darcy approached, she realized the woman was quite old—close to the age her grandmother was when she went into the nursing home. Already, Darcy liked her.
“Hello!” Darcy called out.
The old woman turned, a bit unsteadily. Darcy hoped she hadn’t startled her. She walked up the drive a few feet, close enough for the older woman to see Darcy, not so near she was intruding.
“Hello,” Darcy said again. “I’m Darcy Cotterill. I live right next door.” She pointed to her house.
When the old woman smiled, something shone from her face, something generous and welcoming and gentle. Something so much like Penny’s expression years ago.
“Hello, dear. I’m Mimi Rush.” Slowly, she walked toward Darcy, wincing each time she moved her left leg. Before Darcy could move, Mimi waved a hand. “No, no, stay where you are. I’ve got to force these old pins to do their job.”
She had deep brown eyes and that pure angelic white hair some people get. Her dress was a summer print of lilacs and she wore a lavender cardigan over it. She wore jewelry, too—amethyst earrings and a rather large brooch. A large watch on her wrist.
They shook hands. Mimi’s was soft and plump.
“Tell me your name again?” she prompted.
“Darcy. Darcy Cotterill. I live here on the island year-round. I’m the assistant director of the children’s library.”
“Are you really? What a divine job. You lucky thing. Maybe one day you’ll bring home some children’s books for me to look at. I miss children’s books so much—the illustrations, you know, and the humor. The presentation of the world in the most positive light.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Before Darcy could say more, Mimi continued, “As for me, I haven’t ever lived here year-round as you say, but I’ve spent every summer on the island since I was a baby.” She paused, dramatically, before adding, “Eighty-nine years.”
“How wonderful.”