Eyeing Scott’s lanky frame, James cut a marginally smaller piece of cake for himself. “What I’d give for your metabolism,” he muttered to Scott. “Enjoy it while you can.”
“No problem, Professor,” Scott said dutifully as he washed down his cake with a swig of Mountain Dew. “I ate a double-decker bacon-ranch cheeseburger for lunch, and it barely made a dent. I totally should have super-sized the whole meal.” He glanced toward the door of the break room. “Uh-oh, Francis isn’t looking happy out there. I’d better see what’s up.” Scott hurriedly wiped his mouth with a paper towel and dashed out of the break room and around the circulation desk.
James cut himself another piece of cake as he watched Francis grab his brother’s slim arm and gesticulate toward the Children’s Corner. Assuming that Francis had merely found a glitch involving the craft he had planned for the kindergarten class that was scheduled to arrive any moment, James finished the cake in a leisurely fashion. The twins were more than capable of handling twenty-four energetic five-year-olds.
Licking the last crumbs from his plastic fork, he washed the cake knife and pondered over whether to brew a fresh pot of coffee.
At that moment, however, a patron approached the circulation desk with a tower of hardcover romance novels, and James hustled from the break room to check out her books and pack them neatly in her deep-red Friends of the Shenandoah County Library tote bag.
“I gotta do somethin’ to keep warm over the winter months,” the elderly woman told him with a sly grin. “Some steamy books, a plate of cookies, and a tumbler of whiskey. That’s the trick to survivin’ the long, cold nights when you live by yourself.”
Watching the old woman shuffle away, James wondered about his own plans for the winter months. First and foremost, he wanted to buy a house. Secondly, he had to figure out the details of Jackson and Milla’s wedding gift. He knew that he wanted to treat them to a wonderful honeymoon, and since they didn’t want to leave until after the New Year, James had four weeks to come up with the perfect trip. And just as soon as his father’s wedding was over and the newlyweds were out of town, James wanted nothing more than to focus his attention on rekindling a romantic relationship with Sheriff’s Deputy Lucy Hanover.
“Professor!” Francis approached the desk wearing a worried frown and carrying a basket brimming with cotton balls. “He’s gone! Glowstar’s gone!”
Searching his memory bank for the name Glowstar, James came up blank. “Who?”
“Our elf,” Francis answered impatiently. “The Elf on the Shelf? You know, the stuffed elf we take out every year who magically moves around the library and watches the kids to make sure they’re good.”
“Right!” James remembered and grinned. “And he reports their behavior to Santa Claus after every library visit. I hadn’t realized his name was Glowstar.”
Francis’s frown deepened. “This is serious, Professor. The younger kids always get pretty wild this close to Christmas vacation, and Glowstar’s the only way we’ve been able to keep them in line. The whole ‘You better watch out’ chorus Scott and I like to sing has lost its power without that elf.” Francis cast a frantic look over his shoulder. “For example, I’ve got twenty-four kindergartners back there that are supposed to be gluing cotton balls together to make Santa’s beard. Instead, they’re gluing them to their fingers, the chairs, the carpet, their friends’ hair…”
“Oh.” James could see that this was no laughing matter. He hated when the library became untidy. “You’re not using glitter with this project, I hope.”
Francis glanced away. “Um, it’s supposed to create ‘the twinkle’ in Santa’s eye.”
James walked around the circulation desk. “And what is it being used for in lieu of an eye twinkle, may I ask?”
“Uh,” Francis removed his glasses and began rubbing them vigorously on his plaid shirt. “Well, one kid has doused his side of the table with a magical silver snowfall, and now there’s glitter everywhere but on Santa’s face.”
“We need to distract them before things get any worse.” James took Francis by the elbow. “Announce a reward. The first kid to clean up his or her space will be given the opportunity to find Glowstar and win a prize for spotting his whereabouts. I’m sure the elf’s just hiding in the stacks somewhere.”
“And their reward?” Francis inquired. “They’re going to need motivation, Professor. These twenty-first-century kids don’t lift a finger without the promise of instant gratification, so I’ll need to tell them ahead of time what to expect.”
James’s gaze swept around the library. All he had were bookmarks and tote bags. He doubted the average five-year-old would work too hard for literary paraphernalia. “I bought a box of candy canes at Food Lion,” he mused aloud. “I was going to put them out on the circulation desk for our patrons to take as they exited. Do you think that’ll work as a motivator?”
“Absolutely!” Francis quickly nodded. “I think our entire educational system would grind to a halt without candy, Professor. Kids will do anything for sugar. I’ll go make the announcement before all the picture books are covered with glue and glitter.”
As Francis jogged back to the chaotic Children’s Corner, James decided to empty the reshelving cart while conducting his own search for Glowstar. By the time the cart was empty, a gang of mischievous kindergartners had pulled books from a dozen lower shelves. The kids discovered dust bunnies, old Band-Aids, and a few pieces of hardened chewing gum, but there was no trace of a six-inch elf dressed in red and green felt.
An hour later, the twins had finally finished picking up the trails of sticky cotton balls and vacuuming up most of the silver glitter from the carpet. James was just replacing the last stray-a picture book entitled Everybody Poops, which was one of the library’s most popular titles and not just with the juvenile crowd-when Bennett Marshall walked in.
“What are you doing here?” James asked his friend. “This isn’t your regular route.”
Bennett reached into his mail satchel and withdrew a thick pile of letters and catalogues held together by a rubber band. “Larry got bit by a dog this morning. I’m helpin’ out with his route, because the United States Postal Service doesn’t care what kind of evil canines are runnin’ loose in this world. The mail must be delivered, come rain, snow, hurricane-force winds, or rabid, wild-eyed, furry hounds of hell.”
“Larry’s never mentioned any threatening dogs on his route,” James said, gesturing for Bennett to follow him into the break room.
“That’s ’cause there aren’t any. He’s got the cushiest route in the whole valley. At least as far as dogs go. Nah, he was bit takin’ his cat to the vet this mornin’. Apparently that crazy feline decided to try to ride a pit bull like it was in some kind of kitty rodeo. Larry was attacked while pryin’ his cat off the back of one mighty irritated young dog. That pup had just gotten a whole mess of shots and was in a foul mood before Larry’s cat treated him like a pincushion.” Bennett smirked. “Guess animals get just as agitated as we do about visitin’ the doctor.”
James laughed. “And they don’t get lollipops either. Doc Spratt has given me a green lollipop ever since I can remember. Would you like some chocolate angel food cake while you’re here? It’s homemade.”