Chapter Nineteen
It was busy the rest of the afternoon. Our morning volunteer left, and Wade taught an Internet for Seniors class which left me manning the circulation desk.
“ I’m trying to find a book, Phee. I know it used to be here, but I can’t find it,” Mrs. Crandall said. Her face puckered into a frustrated mass of wrinkles. Seventy years old, Mrs. Crandall refused to read any books released in the past decade. As far as she was concerned, all new books were fluff and nonsense.
“ It might be checked out,” I replied. “Did you check the catalog?”
“ Certainly. I couldn’t find an entry for it. I know it’s here. I read it five years ago.”
“ It might have been weeded from the collection.”
“ Weeded? What? Young lady, this is a library, not a garden. Now, help me find the book,” Mr
