“Christina?”

The librarian let out a shout and tossed the book in the air. She fumbled to catch it, but she only managed to bat it a few times before it hit the floor. “Oh no!”

Then she was gone. Disappeared behind the desk.

I peered over the top. I found her on her knees, turning the fallen book over in her hands, apparently checking for injury. “Thank goodness. You’re okay.” She rose to her feet, pushed her glasses back up her nose, and smiled at me. “Brynn! It’s so good to see you. Sorry about all that.”

I chuckled. “It must be good.”

“What’s that?”

“The book. It must be good.”

“It is. But it’s about a haunted house, and ghosts terrify me.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” she said, her face falling into a very earnest expression. “Ever since I was little. My brother used to creep into my room after it was lights out with a sheet thrown over his head. I always knew it was him, but still.” She shuddered. “Even A Christmas Carol gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

I smiled. “Then why are you reading it?”

She looked confused. “I don’t know. I guess it’s good to be a little scared every now and then? Lets you know you’re alive.” She placed the book down with exceeding care onto the counter. “So, what can I do for you? Are you looking for a recommendation?” She snapped her fingers. “You were always a romance reader.” Before the words had even left her mouth, her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. What is wrong with me?”

“No, Christina. Don’t do that,” I said, reaching across the desk to give her hand a squeeze. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I hate the fact that people feel like they have to watch every little thing they say around me.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Besides, I do need your help. And if you think what happened just now was awkward, wait until you hear what I came in for.”

I explained everything I could to Christina. It was hard to put into words why I wanted to see Constance back in her youth, doing what she loved, because I didn’t fully understand myself, but when I finished, Christina nodded and said, “Rosebud.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Citizen Kane. The movie. Have you ever seen it?”

“No, I don’t think I have.”

“You’d remember it. I won’t spoil the ending, but the idea behind it is that it’s hard—almost impossible really—to ever fully know someone. One person’s monster is another person’s angel. That kind of thing.”

“That’s exactly it,” I said. “Constance had a reputation for being abrasive. But I know that wasn’t always the case.”

“Well,” Christina said, coming around the desk and rubbing her hands together, “let’s see what we can dig up in the archives.”

I couldn’t help but smile again. This was a woman who really loved her job.

It took us some time to sort through the microfilm to find what we hoped would be the right year. We figured Constance would have been in her early twenties when she was performing, so we went with that. It then took a little longer to get the machine up and running with the film threaded. “It would be great if we could transfer all this to the computer,” Christina said, “but it’s a big job. One day maybe.”