Claws For Concern

Back at the desk I found Bronwyn engaged in a conversation with one of the regular patrons, an anxious-looking young mother with twins about seven years old tugging at her blouse. Bronwyn flashed me a grin as she left the desk to assist the mother. I noticed that Diesel was under the desk, well away from any questing hands. He remembered the twin boys and had obviously decided that retreat was the order of the day. I didn’t blame him. They appeared to me to be even more energetic than usual this morning.

“It’s okay,” I told him in a low voice. “They’re gone now.”

Diesel meowed, and I nodded. He emerged from beneath the desk and resumed his usual spot by the chair. He stretched out and relaxed.

For the next two hours, I helped a number of people find the resources they needed. I also helped a youngish couple, new in town, with information about obtaining their library cards. I pointed them to the circulation desk where one of the part-time assistants stood.

“This young lady will take care of it for you,” I told them.

During a brief lull after that, with the thought of library cards in my mind, I wondered whether Bill Delaney had registered for a card. I logged into the circulation module and did a quick check.

I found him right away, although there were several other Delaneys in the database. I looked at his address and frowned. I recognized it. He lived in a small apartment complex with only a few units in a run-down section of Athena. From what I could recall, the complex appeared not to be well-maintained.

I closed out the circulation module. I really shouldn’t have been prying into the man’s business, but Bill Delaney had aroused my curiosity—and now my sympathy as well. He must be on a severely limited income if his address was any indication.

Bronwyn appeared at the desk while I was wrapped in thought and startled me.

“Easy, Charlie,” she said. “Didn’t mean to make you jerk like that.”

“No problem,” I said. “My fault for woolgathering on the job.”

“Would you like to have lunch now? It’s a few minutes after noon,” Bronwyn said.

Diesel had already perked up with Bronwyn so close, but at the word lunch he warbled.

I laughed. “I guess Diesel’s ready, at any rate. Yes, we’ll go ahead and eat now. Give me a holler, though, if you need me.” I pushed back the chair. “Come on, boy. Snack time.”

Diesel knew where we were headed, and he loped in front of me into the staff area. I found him in the small kitchen staring hopefully at the refrigerator.

I retrieved the food and drink I had brought and took everything into the small lounge next to the kitchen. Diesel parked himself by my chair, and one large paw rested against my thigh seconds after I took my seat. He chirped.

“Yes, there’s something for you.” I unwrapped a few pieces of boiled chicken from the foil I’d used and pinched off a large bite of breast meat. He grabbed it and moved under the table to eat while I unwrapped my own meal, two ham-and-cheese sandwiches with lettuce and tomato on wheat bread. While we ate, I looked at my phone, checking for messages and e-mails, but found nothing.

I set the phone aside. I found my thoughts returning to Bill Delaney. That nagging sense of familiarity simply wouldn’t go away but the puzzle refused to resolve itself. The more I worried at it, I thought, the more elusive the answer became.

Feeling too fidgety to take the full time allotted me for lunch, I cleaned up the detritus of our meals. I had to assure Diesel twice that there was no more before he would stop meowing at me. While I washed my hands and prepared to return to work, he sought out his litter box.

He joined me at the reference desk briefly, but when he realized Bronwyn intended to go eat her lunch, he trotted off after her. I had asked her before not to feed him, but unless I stood over them, I had no way of knowing whether she would honor my request. Diesel could look pitiful when he wanted to, like all cats determined to con food out of a human. Bronwyn was no doubt every bit as susceptible as I was.

We saw a steady parade of patrons through the doors that afternoon. One of the numerous book clubs around town that gathered in the library’s public meeting room came in for their monthly meeting. I knew most of the members from my volunteer work there, and I greeted them as they passed by the reference desk. I bade them good-bye a couple of hours later when they began to trickle out. By that time it was after four, and the Saturday regulars who had spent most of the day with us began to pack up their things.

Among those leaving I spotted Bill Delaney. I hadn’t had another opportunity to talk to him. I wasn’t sure what I would say to him, however, if I did. I simply couldn’t help being curious about his interest in my uncle Del. Aunt Dottie had often told me, when I was a child, that I had enough curiosity for seventeen cats. I didn’t think I had changed much in that respect in the last four or five decades.