“That’s entirely possible.” Mrs. Taylor smiled. “But if they’ve been up in your attic for very long, they may not be in the kind of condition that collectors will shell out much money for. Plus they need to have intact dust jackets.”

Lizzie’s grin turned into a frown. “Well, there goes my fortune. With the humidity here and the hot summers, there’s no telling what books packed away in a stuffy attic for twenty years will look like now.”

I almost groaned at the thought of books stored in those conditions. A woman who worked in a library ought to know better, but from experience I realized that librarians weren’t always as careful about their own books as they might be. One of my staff members in Houston, I had discovered to my horror, had a first edition of Gone with the Wind she kept on a shelf above her kitchen sink where the sun could hit it. The dust jacket had been discarded long ago, and the binding was riddled with spots and damage from the sun. A sad state for what could have been a valuable book, alas.

“Back to these collectors you were talking about.” Teresa frowned, and I could see she was concerned. “Will there be more people like this Gordon Betts showing up?”

“Without a doubt,” Mrs. Taylor said. “The news that Electra Barnes Cartwright is alive and going to appear at the library is probably all over the Internet—at least as far as the children’s book collecting community is concerned.” She smiled. “I helped spread the word, actually. Once I saw the information on the library’s website, I sent out a special electronic edition of the EBC newsletter I publish. There are several hundred subscribers to that.”

Teresa closed her eyes, and I knew she was centering herself with slow, deep breaths. She always did this when she was upset or worried. As a former public library director myself, I could easily imagine her thoughts. I was envisioning some of the same possibilities myself—hordes of rabid Veronica Thane fans descending upon Athena, desperate to see the author and demand that she sign their books.

To my chagrin, I realized we should have considered this possibility before we even went to talk to Mrs. Cartwright. I’d been so carried away by my own excitement over meeting her and having her involved with the library’s events that I hadn’t stopped to consider the implications. On the other hand, having Electra Barnes Cartwright appear at the library wasn’t on the order of hosting a superstar singer or actor, who could draw thousands of raving, out-of-control fans. In our situation, though, even a few determined—or even obsessed—readers surely wouldn’t wreak much havoc.

I’d been wrong before about situations like this, however, and I had the uneasy feeling I was wrong now.