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= Romantic Novel =

A New England Love Story

by Jean-Thomas Cullen

12.

Did you call him about the book?" Rose Otto asked as Marian hung up the phone.

The two women talked while working at the desk, sorting library overdue entries on the computer system, in preparation for sending out the latest crop of notices.

"Yes." Marian raised both hands as in What Have I Done, and rested her forehead in her palms.

Rose’s small, pinched face did not show a variety of emotions too well, especially behind her gigantic, pink-rimmed glasses. "And you are so happy."

Marian had not realized Rose could be capable of sarcasm.

"Have courage," Rose said dryly. "Turn into the waves."

"He is coming to take me to dinner."

"And you look like you are DNR, end-of-life."

"No, I am starting a new life, and I will insist on being resuscitated. Specifically, by Mr. Moyer. We are having dinner."

"No!" Rose breathed.

"Yes. I hope to live at least long enough for desert."

"You deserve somebody nice," Rose said. "Just make sure he is not a gondolier."

"You sound like Lillie. What is a gondolier?"

"A man who puts your heart in a gondola and paddles around with you until you get sea-sick and it falls in the canal."

"You have been to Venice." It was a question.

"No, but I have fallen in the canal. Not recently, but I was a wild chick long ago. I know, it seems hard to believe."

Marian did not have the heart to ask if that was before or after her tragic marriage. "You were a hippie?"

"I am that old, yes."

"Now, Rose. You are young enough to remember."

"That makes absolutely no sense, but I’ll buy it." Rose managed that elusive little smile again. "I had my share of flings, plus five years of hell. I mean being married. I dated after that, but it was never the same again." She removed her glasses with a flourish and looked at Marian with a kind of palsied shaking that suggested she was about to say something very weighty, or start crying, or both. "Honey, you are still young and you have it all in front of you. Don’t waste your life away grieving. Get over it."

"I am making progress, Rose. Thank you."

Rose was still shaking. "I grieved over that no good so and so for years. I don’t know why. He hit me whenever he was drinking. He was passable when he was sober. But he drank more and more as time went by, so you know where that all goes."

Coincidentally, later that day, Marian happened to encounter Linda Damien, the Chief Librarian, in the break room. Rose had gone to lunch.

"Yes," Linda said, "Rose has had a difficult life. She is fragile, and I like to keep her under my wing."

"You think my being young has brought back memories for her?"

Linda nodded. "I think so. She has been opening up a lot more. I have had a lot of young women working here over the years. None of them has ever had quite the effect on Rose that you have. Or wait a minute—that playboy who came here asking about dinosaur books. I hope you realize that was just an excuse by him to see you."

"It never dawned on me." Now she was being sarcastic. Thanks, Rose.

"I’ve been around the block more than my share of times in life. You’re young. It’s all kind of predictable."

"You think he is a playboy?"

"He is handsome, rich, cocky, and a bit boyish. I would say—if I were your age, and single, and had the nerves of steel a young woman has, like one of those Indians that can walk on girders a hundred stories up without any ropes or safety nets—I would say I might be tempted to go out to play with him. Or if I had any common sense, I might be inclined to grab my skirt with both hands and run for my life."

"I don’t know how much common sense I have right now. I think my supply is low."

"Your supply will fill back up, don’t worry. At your age, that’s what life is all about. Taking chances." She patted Marian’s wrist several times with one hand. "You know we are all rooting for you."

They were alone in the break room. Linda was having a plum yoghurt from a container, with a plastic ice cream spoon, and drinking tea. Marian had made herself a strong cup of French roast, and was eating a package of cookies from a vending machine.

Marian had never opened up so much with her boss, although they had always been on friendly terms. But Linda Damien was like that with all her employees. Now Marian felt as if she had gained another friend. "I love working here. I like the steady pace, the nice people, the books…"

"You don’t miss Oklahoma or California?"

Marian shook her head. "You know...it’s like this. I came here, in love with Tommy, and fell in love with this place. It’s such a wonderful little town. So close to New York City, Boston, Montreal, the Atlantic coast...and yet such a little hideaway."

"It’s a little heartland place," Linda agreed. "I have lived here for thirty years. Came here from the boonies in upstate New York when I married my husband. He passed away from a heart attack two years ago. I transferred here from the high school library soon after to become Chief Librarian. The move helped me get over it and continue on with life."

"So you are a widow too." Marian had known this about Linda, but only in a distant way.

"Oh yeah. It never goes away. But life goes on. The train leaves the station, and you better be on it. So we move to the next adventure."

"Are you still—alone?"

Linda nodded. "Yep. I am dating a professor in New Haven, and having a nice time. I have kids, he has kids, they all get along fine, and we sometimes think about making it a permanent party. We’re in no rush. The chance to really be with someone comes rarely in life. If you have that bird in hand, go for it."

"And if it’s a mistake?"

Linda laughed out loud. "Just don’t sign any papers or get pregnant. Take your time."

"That’s it in a nutshell," Marian said quietly.

"Roll the dice," Linda said. She added: "Just keep your car outside with the motor running, in case."

"In case he turns out to be a gondolier, this Moyer."

"What-evvah!" Linda said in New York City dialect.

"I must be out of my mind, but I think I can do this. Unless I get all nervous again, and can’t talk, so he thinks I’m an idiot."

"If that happens, just pretend you are thinking really important thoughts. I know a trick."

"What’s that?"

Linda held up one finger, with the pad of the tip pointing toward Marian.

"Huh?"

"That’s what I mean. It’s a trick I learned. If you are baffled, just hold up your finger. It makes the other person shut up, and they think you are having a brilliant brainstorm. You’re waiting for the whole brainstorm to download, and you can’t talk at the moment. They will wait for you to tell them. Then you look away suddenly, like it’s a secret and you can’t tell them or you’d have to kill them. You can kill several minutes that way, save yourself from paralysis, and distract him from whatever he was saying that made you choke up in the first place."

"And never make eye contact," Marian improvised. "Or you burst out laughing and spoil the whole thing." And don’t lithp, she secretly reminded the little girl inside her.

"You got it." Linda waved the little plastic spoon. She had yoghurt and plum on her upper lip. "See, you are an expert at it already."