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the street name seemed familiar. I thought I’d drive around and see if I could find the ballet studio.

I finally found the studio and, oddly, it was across the street from the library’s new location. I’d take that as a sign that a visit to the library was in order. When I finished here, I’d stop over there. The studio door was open, but I didn’t see anyone inside.

“Hello?” I called out.

A voice came from a back room. “Just a moment,” called a woman with a French accent.

I wandered around the studio while I waited. It was clean and pretty, but it was very tiny. Just enough for a class of maybe ten students at a time.

A beautiful woman emerged from the back. She was in her mid-thirties, I’d guess—the right age for the woman from the article. She was obviously a dancer, with her slim figure, long legs encased in footless, black tights, and hair twisted up into a bun.

“May I help you?” she asked with a pleasant smile.

“Are you Claire-Marie Renavand?”

“Yes, that is me. I am the owner of this studio. Are you interested in dance lessons?” she asked.

“No, not at this time. I’m Hayden, a reporter from the Observer.” I thought saying a reporter was less intimidating than editor, and it was one of my many hats. I reached out to shake her hand, but she didn’t take it, so I let it fall to my side.

“I’m following up on a past article. I’m wondering if you can tell me anything about the Destiny Falls ferry and a trip that was taken some time ago.”

Her smile disappeared, and her face turned hard. “I can tell you nothing.”

“Have you ever taken a trip on the ferry?”

“You sound like my mother with her obsession over the ferry and her search for youth and beauty. I never want to hear of this ferry again!” She spits on her nice, clean, wood floor.

She was turning red and looked pinched and angry, but I had to try one more question. “I’m sorry this upsets you. Perhaps I could talk with your mother?”

“My mother. She is gone. Poof!” She snapped her fingers. “The promise blinded her. She saw nothing else. She left behind a daughter with no mother. And no money. I do not wish to discuss this. Please, leave my studio and leave me in peace.” She gestured to the door. When I didn’t move, she walked to the front and yanked open the door so hard it banged against the wall. In an angry voice, she said, “Au revoir!”

I don’t know much French, but I did know that meant goodbye.

29

From the time I was in kindergarten, library day was my favorite day of the week. I would wake up early and just about drag Nana or Granana all the way on our walk there. I couldn’t wait to get to the building and embrace all the new wonders that awaited me. There was no feeling quite like my empty blue box and shelf upon shelf of opportunities to fill it.

I never stuck to the tiny child’s corner of the library. Oh, no, not me. I would uncover hidden wonders everywhere. I’ll never forget the day I found the oversized book section. These were all the books that were too large to fit anywhere else. The subjects were endless, and most of these extra-large books contained pictures, maps, or diagrams. Different breeds of dogs. Treasures found in pyramids. Undersea creatures. Sculptures and paintings. Tattoos through the ages. Distinctive home designs. Classic cars. Photo tours of faraway places. People who changed the world. National Geographic and Audubon image collections. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. If you have never browsed the oversized book section in your library, do it. It’s a journey for the eyes.

I loved reminiscing about those times and my marvelous library. What I thought was the pinnacle of library visits was sea level compared to the Destiny Falls library! Not only were all books ever written available to patrons, but the library itself was a wondrous experience. Nearly every time I visited was a new and eye-popping adventure. Today was one of those adventures. The theme: Birds.

The entrance of the library today had a double-door system. I realized why they had arranged it this way as soon as I stepped out of the entry area into the main lobby. The foyer was now the largest aviary I’d ever seen. Tall, slim trees filled the room. The ceiling of the building looked to be a hundred feet up. You looked through the canopy of trees to the very top, which resembled the crest of a golden birdcage.

Birds of every size, color, and breed flew happily from tree to tree. I spotted tiny hummingbirds and a large bald eagle. I saw a pelican, colorful parrots, toucans, and a bright green quetzal with a long, wispy tail. A pair of peacocks were wandering on the ground. The sounds were a mixed melody of chirping, tweeting, and an occasional squawk.

As usual, there were bookcases set up around the perimeter with books on the theme. Amusingly, they were under a plastic dome. I assume this was to protect them from bird droppings. There were books about birds, birdhouses, bird art, birdwatching, ancient birds, and bird training (yes, bird training). There were movies, audiobooks, and birdsong recordings. Children in the craft corner were gluing colorful feathers onto headbands and wearing their creations. The colorful parrot in their corner was making the kids laugh with funny, bird-like words and opera-like singing.

I realized my friendly camera was around my neck, so I took photos of the displays and some close-ups of the birds. I got a great picture of the children and their feathery headbands.

I left the foyer and made my way through another set of double doors into the main library area and stopped to stare. “Oh, my!” escaped my lips as I took in the vision. I snapped a few photos.

My favorite

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