“Tiny baby steps,” she muttered as she unlocked the door. Flicking on the lights as she went, Bitsy headed for her office. She had an hour or so before the library opened and she wanted to have her facts and figures straight before the board meeting.

Pushing aside a few of the papers that cluttered her desk, she set down a bag containing a Styrofoam cup of coffee, with cream and sugar, and a couple of sugary jelly doughnuts. She draped her coat over an extra chair and took her seat, flicking on the computer. Soon she was happily immersed in numbers and percentages, all the while slurping down her coffee and scattering powdered sugar all over her desk.

At ten minutes past ten she heard someone banging at the main entrance and realized she hadn’t unlocked the doors.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized as she pulled open the heavy oak door. “I lost track of the time.”

“No problem, my dear,” said Gerald Asquith, smiling down at her benignly. Tall and gray-haired, dressed in a beautifully tailored cashmere overcoat, he was the retired president of Winchester College and one of the members of the board of directors. “I know I’m a bit early, but I want to go over the final figures for the addition before the meeting.”

“Of course,” said Bitsy. “I’ll get the file for you.”

Bitsy had hoped Gerald would seat himself at the big table in the reference room, but instead he hung his coat up on the rack by the door and followed her into her office. When she gave him the file he sat down at her desk, displacing her, and began studying it.

Bitsy gave a little shrug and headed for the children’s section. She had to come up with something for story hour anyway; it was in less than hour, at eleven.

She was leafing through a lavishly illustrated edition of Cinderella when she felt a presence behind her. Turning, she greeted Corney Clarke with a polite smile. Corney, an attractive blonde of indeterminate age, ran a busy catering service and called herself a “lifestyle consultant.” She was also a member of the board of directors.

“Can I help you?” asked Bitsy, mindful of her status as an employee.

“No. I came a little early to see the new addition. It’s a big improvement, isn’t it?” said Corney, walking around the sunny area, admiring the low bookshelves and child-sized seating.

“It sure is,” agreed Bitsy. “We must have been the only library in the state without a children’s room.”

“It must be fun doing story hour, now, in such nice surroundings,” surmised Corney.

“Oh, yes,” said Bitsy, attempting to sound enthusiastic. “Today we’re reading Cinderella.”

“Oh.” Corney wrinkled her forehead in concern. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but are you sure that’s a good choice?”

“The children like it . . .” began Bitsy.