Hailey was at her desk, putting plastic slipcovers on new hardcovers, but she looked up when the door closed behind him with a muted thump. Her eyes widened when she recognized him, and then narrowed slightly.
“Good morning,” she said in a polite voice when he reached the desk.
“I’m doing errands, so I thought I’d get my library card while I was out.”
“Wonderful.” She gave him a wide smile that was totally fake. “Do you have identification or a utility bill with your name and your Whitford address on it?”
“My identification has my previous address on it and I haven’t lived here long enough to get a utility bill yet.” Which she damn well knew.
“Our policy is that potential patrons prove they live in Whitford before being issued a library card.”
So she was in one of those moods. That was fine with him. “How about if my neighbor swears she watched me move in next door to her. And she did, very closely, judging by how often her curtains moved.”
Color tinted her cheeks. “I’m sure it was a draft. She probably couldn’t have cared less what you were doing.”
“Oh, I doubt it was a draft. It was pretty warm that day. As a matter of fact, it was so warm, I had to take my shirt off because I was sweating.”
Her mouth tightened, and he wondered if she was mad or trying not to smile. “Be that as it may, Warden Barnett, our policy requires proof of Whitford residency.”
“Is this a big problem you’ve had? People coming into town and signing up for a library card under false pretenses to steal a book?”
“Our budget’s tight. We can’t be too careful.” She lost the battle to hide her smile, and shook her head. “But, I think, in your case we can make an exception. You being an officer of the law and all.”
She pulled a form out of a drawer and started filling it in herself. Of course she knew his name and his address, since she lived next door. Then she looked up at him. “What’s your middle name?”
“Is that on the form?”
“No. I’m just nosy.”
“Charles. After my dad.”
She nodded and slid the form around to him. “You need to write in your phone number and sign the bottom, and I need to see your driver’s license.”
“My number, huh? Is that really on the form?”
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. Then she looked at his license. “You’re only thirty-five?”
“Why? Do I look older than that?”
“No, I just...you’re younger than me.”
He gave her a thorough looking over, enjoying the way pink spread across her cheeks. “Not by much.”
“Five freaking years,” she muttered.
“I don’t believe it. You should show me your license.”
She snorted. “Have you ever met a woman our age, or my age anyway, who lied about being forty?”
“It’s just a number.”
“Says the guy who’s only thirty-five.”
When he handed her the completed form, she gave him a small card with his name, a number and a bar code on it. “Automated, huh?”
“Partially. I got a grant to put the checkout system on the computer, but we still have the card catalogue in the old wooden drawers.”
“I like those, myself.”
She smiled and gave him a shrug. “To be honest, I haven’t fought too hard to get rid of those, even though purging the drawers twice a year is a pain.”
“Be a shame to see it go.”
She handed him a small pile of papers, one at a time. “Here are the rules. Books and audiobooks go out for two weeks, videos and periodicals for one. You can call and renew over the phone. The overdue fine schedule is on the bottom. They’re doubled for interlibrary loan titles. And here’s a list of our clubs and special events. You know, if you like to knit or something.”
A woman was approaching the desk with a toddler and an armful of picture books, so it was time for him to go.
“I’m on the quad today, so I won’t take any books home, but I’ll be back.” He skimmed the list of activities. “You’ve got a lot going on. I could spend all my spare time here.”
She gave him a don’t even think about it look, but morphed it into a polite smile as the other patron stepped into line behind him. “Welcome to the Whitford Public Library, Warden Barnett.”
“Thank you, Hailey. I’ll definitely be back.”
He gave a polite nod to the other woman and smiled at her daughter. Then he headed for the exit. But he paused before he pushed open the door because he could see the women reflected in the glass and they were both watching him leave.
It was the uniform, he thought as he stepped out into the sunshine. Almost made the hours of ironing worthwhile.
NINE