Christmas in Evergreen Tidings of Joy - Nancy Naigle Page 0,14
pointed her in the right direction to the library and then showed her the path from town square back to the B&B on the map.
It’d been a brief truck ride from Daisy’s Country Store to the B&B, but that shortcut made it practically in the backyard.
With the map tucked into her back pocket, off Katie went, and it wasn’t long before she was strolling down Main Street. The decorations that had been a work in progress yesterday now filled the streets with the sounds and excitement of Christmas. Everyone she passed said good morning or waved from across the way, leaving her feeling more at home here than she did in her own apartment building.
Two blocks up and one turn ahead, Katie recognized the building Megan had described as the library.
She walked up the walkway to the green turn-of-the-century house with the blue-green trim. The covered porch stretched across the front of the house. Stars cut from old stamped due date cards hung from lengths of silver-and-gold cord from fresh garland from end-to-end. The idea of all the hands those well-loved books had passed through made her tingle.
An Evergreen Historical Society marker consisting of a bronzed plaque was posted next to the door to show the significance of this building. Originally the home of Nan’s family, later it had been donated to the town as its first library.
The porch had a gentle slope to the right, but comfy chairs lined the porch for comfortable reading, and she could picture herself in one of them with a copy of one of the old classics—preferably in hardcover.
The invigorating scent from the pine garland that hung along the eaves seemed to clarify her mind, instantly giving her a lift, or maybe that was just the caffeine finally kicking in. Either way, she could barely contain her happiness today. She twisted the old brass knob on the door and let herself in the nine-window-paned door.
Someone had done a wonderful job transforming the big three-story house into a tastefully decorated library. Just inside the door, a beautiful desk was stacked with books someone had just dropped off. The smell of old books teased her senses, drawing her further inside.
Katie wandered past bookcases overflowing with titles, lined up by genre. Different niche books were set up on tabletops and dressers. Knitting and quilting books here. Architecture and design books over there. It was well appointed and well-stocked. Voices from the adjacent room caught her attention.
Light shone through the large double windows. At least a dozen children sat on the floor, enthralled by the storyteller sitting on the stool in the middle of the room. His convincing character voices and appropriate inflection held the children’s attention. She used to love story hour at the library when she was a kid.
She let herself fall into the story. When she noticed the narrator, she did a double take. The man wearing glasses was Ben, whom she’d met on the train. She hadn’t recognized him at first, but it was most definitely the same guy. She looked on, enjoying his authentic connection with the children and the way he imitated all the voices. He was very animated, emphasizing each part of the story. The kids hung from his every word. And she couldn’t take her eyes off him as he read on.
“‘A Merry Christmas, Bob,’ said Ebenezer Scrooge with an earnestness that could not be mistaken as he clapped him on the back.’” Ben did a good Ebenezer. He then read in another voice, “‘And a merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow. Now Ebenezer Scrooge…’”
A hand on her shoulder startled Katie. Her hand flew to her chest as she turned to see a tiny older woman smiling up at her. She wore a white blouse and a steel-blue sweater that matched her eyes, looking every bit the part of small-town librarian.
“Story hour.” She spoke in a low whisper, and Katie leaned in. “Not my favorite Christmas story,” the woman continued. “But it’s a crowd-pleaser. Louisa May Alcott’s is better. Can I help you find anything in particular?”
Embarrassed for being caught seemingly peeping at the handsome storyteller, Katie tore herself away from watching Ben. “Yes, actually. I’m looking for some local history.”
“Oh, yes. Come here.” She led the way to the front room away from the story hour. “I’m Nan. I’m the librarian here. We have a whole section of Vermonters. From Rudy Vallee to Allison Bechdel. Robert Frost—”