Murder by Page One by Olivia Matthews (read aloud txt) 📗

Marvey, please.” The Southern custom of adding a title to a person’s name was charming, but it was a lot to say before getting to the point. “I want to help the library increase its outreach and services. Do you have a library card?”

Zelda’s eyes widened. “Why, yes.” Her commanding tone had faded. “Yes, I do.”

Although suspicious of her response, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing you at the library. You should join our book club. We meet the first Saturday of each month.”

“Oh. That sounds nice.” Zelda smoothed her silver cotton dress in a nervous gesture. I sensed her casting about for a believable excuse to get out of the meetings.

Spence offered an incentive. “Marvey serves Georgia Bourbon Pecan Pie and sweet tea after every meeting—but you have to stay till the end of the meeting for the refreshments.”

Panic receded from Zelda’s eyes to be replaced by interest. “Oh, well, now. That would be nice indeed.”

I turned my attention from Zelda to survey To Be Read. I loved the store. It was like a giant welcoming foyer, flooded with natural light. Closing my eyes briefly, I drew in the scent of crisp new paper from thousands of books and magazines. Fluffy furnishings in pale earth tones popped up at the end of aisles and in quiet nooks. A multitude of blond wood bookcases stuffed with stories offered the promise of adventures and the thrill of knowledge.

A couple of Jo’s employees were setting up for the book signing. They’d already arranged the wooden chairs and matching tables. The twenty-somethings transferred books from wheeled metal carts to each author’s assigned table. Jo’s third employee processed purchases at a checkout counter while engaging each customer in conversation as though they were lifelong friends. Every now and then, a burst of warm laughter rolled across the store.

But there still wasn’t a single chocolate-covered pecan cluster in sight.

“I’m sorry I missed the meeting.” Jo’s gaze swung between Spence and me, twinkling with curiosity. “How was it?”

“It was great,” Spence said. Slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he turned to me. “I’m impressed you were able to get the club up and running so quickly, within a month of your arrival.”

“We librarians are known for our efficiency.” It was a struggle to keep the smugness from my tone.

Spence’s compliment filled me with a massive sense of achievement—and relief. Even though it was only our third meeting, I’d known the book club would be a success. We’d already attracted twenty-five book lovers, all from diverse backgrounds and each strengthening our argument for a bigger budget. That continued to be my motivation.

Leaving my parents and older brother in Brooklyn to relocate to Peach Coast with my cat had been hard. My roots were in Brooklyn. I’d lived my entire twenty-eight years in the New York borough, but I’d grown increasingly frustrated by my lack of opportunities to shine in my public library system. There, I was just one of many small fishes in a very big pond. I couldn’t generate any waves. Not even a ripple. But I’d been confident that, if given a chance, my ideas for growing the community’s interest in and support of the library could make a big splash. Here, in this small town, I’d finally be able to try. The library’s success would make at least some of my homesickness worth it.

Jo grinned. “So who came in costume, and what did they wear?”

Spence ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. His voice was devoid of inflection. “Mortimer painted himself blue and called himself Aquarius.”

This month’s member-selected read was the latest paranormal fiction release by Bernadine Cecile. I loved paranormal stories. This one featured a world in which meta-humans used the power of their zodiac signs to defeat villains—hence Mortimer’s costume. He wasn’t the only one who’d gotten carried away. Most of the members hadn’t wanted to read Born Sign, but the first rule of book club was to keep an open mind. To my relief, the novel had been a hit.

Zelda spoke over Jo’s laughter. “Marvey, if you don’t mind my saying, that’s a lovely pendant.” Her gaze had dropped to my sapphire cotton T-shirt, which I wore with cream khakis and matching canvas shoes.

“Thank you.” I touched the glass pendant. I’d suspended it from a long antique silver chain. It held a silver-and-black illustration of the cover of Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun, the version depicting the Younger family’s dream home.

Jo inclined her head toward me. Her long raven ponytail bounced behind her narrow shoulders. “Marvey makes those herself. And the matching hair barrette. She draws the pictures and puts them in the pendants and barrettes.”

Zelda glanced at my shoulder-length, dark brown hair, but she couldn’t have seen my barrette, which gathered my hair behind my head.

“You’re very talented.” Her eyes glinted with admiration—and longing. “Do you sell them?”

This question came up a lot. Each time, I stood firm. “No, it’s just a hobby. I’d like to keep it that way.”

I’d been making those pendants and barrettes since high school. The craft fed my love of art and jewelry making, and allowed me to pay homage to great works of literature. It was the kind of activity I could do while listening to an audiobook. Although I often gifted sets to family and friends for birthdays and holidays, the hobby was something I did for enjoyment, not for money. If I mass-produced them, it wouldn’t be fun anymore.

Jo’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief. “With all the interest people have shown in your pendants, you may have to break that rule.”

Spence flashed his silver-screen smile. His perfect white teeth were a dentist’s dream. “Maybe you should give a class. That way, you can teach people how to make their own pendants.”

“That’s a great idea. The course could be a fundraiser for the library.” New books. Updated software. Additional periodical subscriptions. Every little bit would help. I shelved the