Finding Miranda

Chapter 26: The Facts

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Shep has isolated himself from the world - and from Miranda - as he grieves the loss of his two best friends.  How far down will he sink, and what will bring him up from the depths?  The turning point is coming up in Chapter 26 today.   What would you say to lift Shep from his depression?  What would you say to Miranda about the severing of their relationship?

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Miranda was grateful for the opportunity to return to work at the library the following Monday. She was unable to sleep at night and unable to find enough diversions for her mind during the day, if she remained at home.

The commute was certainly more pleasant in her new car than it would have been in her tin-can toy car, but parking was more of a challenge. She coped by positioning her baby blue behemoth at the farthest corner of the library parking lot, where there was nothing for her to hit—or to hit her. Of course, she would have to walk a half-marathon from her car to the library door, but that was no problem. Miranda always wore sensible shoes.

Annabelle had maintained the status quo in Miranda's absence. The result was a week's worth of returned books still piled on piles of piles, waiting to be shelved. After all, there was no question that Annabelle's delicate manicure took precedence over mere service to the reading public.

Since Miranda arrived early, even after walking ten minutes from her car, no one was there to see the smile with which she piloted the first of many overstuffed book carts out into the stacks.

As early morning gave way to mid-morning, Annabelle made her entrance and took up her throne at the checkout counter. There she would reign over her literary serfs as they brought their check-in offerings to her like taxes to the manor's lord. There she would dispense checked-out volumes like a regent dispensing boons to the peasantry. Most of all, throughout the day, she would bewitch all mere men with her sultry beauty, like Morgan Le Fey.

With so much to do, it was no wonder Annabelle had little time to devote to other aspects of the library: books, shelves, fellow employees. So it was that when Miranda returned to the counter to deliver an empty cart and pick up another load of books for shelving, Annabelle was oblivious.

"Hi!" bubbled Miranda. "How've you been?"

Annabelle seemed confused and spent a second seeking the source of the voice chirping at her. Her eyes settled on Miranda at last. "Hello, Marianne. How're you?" Annabelle looked away again.

"Well," Miranda chimed, "not sure if I'm good or bad, but at least I'm back." She chuckled at her feeble, attempted humor.

"Back from where?" said Annabelle.

Some things never change, thought Miranda, but she said, "Doesn't matter," and rolled her book-laden cart out of Annabelle's sight and definitely out of mind.

....

At one 'clock that Monday, when Miranda was eating her tuna salad and reading Finding Your Own Way to Grieve in the park near the library, people were stirring in far-off Minokee.

Martha Cleary trundled up the front steps of the Krausse house carrying in a basket her famous broccoli-chicken-cheddar casserole, steaming beneath a thick towel. She balanced the warm bundle on one forearm and knocked loudly on the front door with the opposite fist.

She waited.

She knocked again, louder.

More waiting.