Firefly Hollow by T. L. Haddix Page A

what they choose to read. If you’ve read a book and think it’s good, it’s fine to share that opinion. But if you don’t like it, or if you don’t think the patron should be reading it, keep your opinion to yourself. Also, don’t bother the patrons about their personal lives.”
    “How do you mean, ‘bother’?” Sarah asked.
    Shirley responded, “It’s simple. We live in a small town. We work with the public. We’re going to hear and see things that are private. Part of our jobs is respecting that privacy. It’s an obligation we have to our patrons. We don’t intrude on their lives, and we don’t gossip about them, especially not to other patrons.”
    “That has to be a hard rule to enforce at times. I’ll do my best to respect the patrons,” Sarah had promised.
    Now, Sarah could almost see the older woman’s aggravation with Callie. Before Shirley could call her out, though, the phone rang, and two patrons walked in.
    “We’ll discuss this later, Ms. Barger,” Shirley said.
    That night, as she drove the fifteen miles home, Sarah thought about the glimpse she’d gotten of Owen Campbell. When she arrived, she went up to change out of her work clothes, then made a beeline for the kitchen to help her mother with supper.
    “I got a look at our neighbor today,” she told her mother as she sliced a head of cabbage.
    Eliza frowned. “Which neighbor?”
    “Owen Campbell. He came into the library and checked out a big stack of books.” She eased the cabbage into a cast-iron skillet waiting on the stovetop. The thin slices sizzled as they hit the hot bacon grease in the pan.
    “Owen. I’ve not seen the boy since his mother died, I don’t reckon.” Eliza opened the oven door to check on the pone of cornbread. Seeing that it was golden brown, she pulled it out and sat it on an empty burner. “How is he?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. But he…I didn’t expect him to be so…” She stammered to a halt, her cheeks heating, as she tried to figure out how to explain her reaction to the man.
    Eliza smiled. “So it’s like that, is it? If he looks anything like his father, he’s a handsome man. Best I recall, he resembled Hank quite a bit.”
    Sarah got down mugs for coffee. “I don’t remember much about Hank or Lucy. What kind of people were they?”
    “Good people. Your daddy went to school with Hank. I think Lucy was from down around London or Corbin, somewhere down that way,” Eliza said, waving a hand toward the west. “They only had the two boys, Owen and Harlan. Harlan died over in Germany, remember?”
    “Vaguely. So how come Owen’s a recluse? Do you have any idea?” Sarah had considered trying to hide her interest in the man, but with very few exceptions, she didn’t keep secrets from her mother.
    Eliza brow furrowed. “No, not really. They always kept to themselves for the most part. Hank worked at the hardware store with his brother, of course, but Lucy stayed home with the boys. We’d run into them every now and then in town, but not often.”
    “Hmm. Well, he apparently comes to the library pretty often.”
    “Maybe you’ll get a chance to talk to him, then,” her mother said, hiding her smile behind her coffee mug.
    Trying to act as though the idea didn’t cause her heart to flutter, Sarah shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
    She changed the subject, but after they’d gone to bed that night, the idea circled through her mind. She envisioned several scenarios, trying to figure out what she’d say, what he’d say, what his voice would sound like, whether or not his eyes were as dreamy as Callie had declared them to be. As she drifted into sleep, Sarah realized she was more excited than she’d been in several months.

    Sarah was on her hands and knees, searching for a card that had fallen under the counter, when she heard Shirley say, “Owen. How are you doing today? Has it warmed up any out there?”
    Sarah jerked in surprise, hitting her head on the