“We’ll have to call for service, then,” said Bitsy, leaning over Gerald to ease open her desk drawer. “You can make copies at the coin machine by the front desk. Here’s the key.”

“Could you be a doll and do it for me?” Ed gave her his version of an ingratiating smile.

Still leaning awkwardly over Gerald, Bitsy reached for the mouse and clicked it, closing the file. Then she took the report from Ed. More children had gathered for story hour—she could hear their voices. They would just have to wait a few minutes. She was not going to risk being insubordinate to one of the directors, especially Ed.

When she returned she found him lounging in the spare chair, sitting on top of her coat, and joking with Gerald, who was still sitting at her desk. What a pair, she thought, annoyed at the way they made themselves at home in her office.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the papers and turning to go. She really had to get story hour started.

“So you’re reading Rumpelstiltskin to them today?” inquired Gerald, who was still sitting at her desk. His tone was friendly—he was just making conversation. Now that he was retired he had all the time in the world.

“I think they’ll like it,” said Bitsy, eager to get out to the children. Unsupervised, there was no telling what they might get up to.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a very good idea. It’s a horrible story,” said Ed. “It used to make my little girls cry.”

“Really?” Bitsy kept her voice even. She was determined not to let him know how irritated she was.

“In fact, I don’t even think it belongs in the library. With all the money we spend on new books I don’t know why you’re keeping a nasty old book like that. Just look at it—it’s all worn out.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Bitsy, who knew the acquisitions budget was a sore spot with Ed, who favored bricks and mortar over books. His objection, however, reminded her of a box of new material that had arrived the day before but hadn’t been opened yet.

“I’m just going down to the workroom for a minute,” she said, more to herself than the directors. Grabbing the box of art supplies and taking a pile of red construction paper from the corner of her desk, she quickly left the office and hurried through the children’s room, giving the assembled mothers and children a cheerful wave.