She was beyond gratified that so many people liked her writing and the story—and especially Hope’s delightful illustrations—but some part of her wanted to go back to that peaceful time when her biggest decisions revolved around what to read for her weekly story hour at the Pine Gulch Public Library.
With a sigh, she turned back to the job at hand. She was still sorting through the final choices when the head librarian poked her head into the cubicle.
“Looks as if we’re going to have a nice crowd.” Frankie Vittori, the head librarian, looked positively gleeful. “I hope we have room for everybody.”
“Oh, that’s terrific!” she exclaimed, mentally shelving her worries about the movie deal for now.
She meant the words. She loved nothing more than introducing children to the wonder and magic to be found inside the pages of a good book.
Books had saved her. During the chaos of her childhood, they had offered solace and safety and hope amid fear. She had no idea how she would have survived without friends such as Anne of Green Gables, Bilbo Baggins, Matilda, Harry Potter and Hermione and Ron Weasley.
“I only hope we’ve got enough of our craft project to go around. It seems as if the crowd increases every month.”
Frankie grinned. “That’s because everybody in town wants to come hear our local celebrity author read in hopes of catching a sneak peek at the new Sparkle story coming down the pike.”
She managed to conceal her instinctive wince. She really didn’t like being a celebrity.
On one level, it was immensely gratifying. Who would have ever dreamed that she—quiet, awkward, introverted Celeste Nichols—would be in this position, having people actually care what she had to say?
On another, it was terrifying. At some point the naked emperor was always exposed. She feared the day when somebody would finally ask why all the fuss about her simple little tales.
For now, Frankie was simply thrilled to have a crowd at the library for any kind of reason. Celeste’s boss and friend vibrated with energy, as she always did, her toe tapping to unheard music and her fingers fidgeting on the edge of the desk. Frankie was as skinny as a flagpole, probably because she never stopped moving.
Her husband, Lou, on the other hand, was the exact opposite—a deep reservoir of calm serenity.
They made the perfect pair and had two adorable kids who fell somewhere in the middle.
“I know it’s more work for you,” Frankie went on. “But I have to say, it’s a brilliant idea to have two story times, one for the younger kids in the morning and one for early and middle readers after school.”
Celeste smiled. “If you do say so yourself?”
Frankie beamed. “What can I say? I’m brilliant sometimes.”
“That you are.” Since Frankie had come to the library from upstate New York two years earlier, patron usage was way up and support had never been higher.
Frankie was bold and impassioned about the need for libraries, especially in the digital age. Celeste was more than a little envious of her overwhelming confidence, which helped the director fight for every penny of funding from the city council and the community in general.
Celeste would never be as outgoing and vivacious as Frankie, even though she was every bit as passionate about her job as the children’s librarian. She liked being behind the scenes—except for the weekly story times, her favorite part of the job.
She checked her watch and quickly stood up. “I guess I’d better get out there.”
She picked up the box of craft supplies they would use for the activity she had planned and headed for the large meeting room they had found worked best for story times.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Frankie said with a sly grin. “Make sure you check out the major hottie dad out there at ten o’clock.”
Despite her amazing husband, Frankie was always locating hot guys, whether at their weekly lunches at one of the restaurants in town or on the few trips they’d taken into Jackson Hole or Idaho Falls. She always said she was only scouting possible dates for Celeste, which made Celeste roll her eyes. Her last date had been months ago.
“Is he anybody I know?”
“I’ve never seen him before. He’s either new in town or a tourist. You can’t miss him. He’s wearing a Patek Philippe watch and a brown leather jacket that probably costs as much as our annual nonfiction budget. He’s definitely not your average Cold Creek cowboy with horse pucky on his boots.”
Okay, intriguing. She hadn’t heard of anybody new moving into the small town, especially not someone who could afford the kind of attire Frankie was talking about. Sometimes well-to-do people bought second or third homes in the area, looking for a mountain getaway. They built beautiful homes in lovely alpine settings and then proceeded to visit them once or twice a year.
“I’ll be sure to check him out while I’m trying to keep the kids entertained.”
Frankie was right about one thing—the place was packed. Probably thirty children ranging in age from about six to eleven sat on the floor while roughly that same number of parents sat in chairs around the room.
For just an instant she felt a burst of stage fright at the idea of all those people staring at her. She quickly pushed it down. Normally she didn’t like being in front of a crowd, but this was her job and she loved it. How could she be nervous about reading stories to children? She would just pretend their parents weren’t there, like she usually did.
When she walked in, she was heartened by the spontaneous round of applause and the anticipation humming in the air.
She spotted a few people she recognized, friends and neighbors. Joey Santiago, nephew to her brother-in-law Rafe, sat beside his father, waving wildly at her.
She grinned and waved back at him. She would have thought Rafe was the hot dad—all that former navy SEAL mojo he had going on—but Frankie knew him well and he wasn’t wearing a leather jacket or an expensive watch anyway.
She loved Rafe dearly, for many reasons—most important because he adored her sister Hope—but also because she wasn’t sure she would be standing here, ready to entertain a group of thirty children with the magic of literature if not for his role in their lives so many years ago.
She saw a few other hot dads in the crowd—Justin Hartford, who used to be a well-known movie star but who seemed to fit in better now that he had been a rancher in Cold Creek Canyon for years. Ben Caldwell, the local veterinarian, was definitely hot. Then there was the fire chief, Taft Bowman, and his stepchildren. Taft always looked as though he could be the December cover model on a calendar of yummy firefighters.
All of them were locals of long-standing, though, and Frankie knew them well. They couldn’t be the man she was talking about.
Ah, well. She would try to figure out the mystery later, maybe while the children were making the snowman ornaments she had planned for them.
“Thank you so much for coming, everybody. We’re going to start off with one of my favorite Christmas stories.”
“Is it Sparkle and the Magic Snowball?” Alex Bowman, Taft’s stepson, asked hopefully.
She blushed a little as everyone laughed. “Not today. Today we’re focusing on stories about Christmas, snow and snowmen.”
Ben’s son raised his hand. “Is Sparkle going to be here today, Ms. Nichols?”
Was that why so many