Part 3 (1/2)

After about a minute, her phone buzzed.

Was worried when I hadn't heard from you. Day is fine otherwise.

She sighed again. Sorry. Didn't mean to worry you. Glad your day is going well. I've got to get back to work. I'll text you again when I get home. Gotta hit the grocery store first.

Reminded of a task she'd been meaning to accomplish, Jemma quickly typed up a new set of hours for the library, ones she could handle on her own. After a moment's hesitation, she factored in a lunch break, giving the library two sets of hours, six days a week. Her weekdays would be a little shorter than library patrons might be used to, but the library would be open a little later on Sat.u.r.days. It would remain closed on Sundays; she would probably regret it if she didn't take at least one day off a week, and it made sense to stick with the day on which the library was normally closed. Excluding lunch break, she figured she could handle forty-eight hours a week. She sent in the obligatory advance request for overtime pay, but she didn't expect there to be an issue; even if the city could currently spare enough people to monitor that closely, she was doing the work of at least three employees. If they didn't approve the overtime, she'd decide whether she was willing to work anyway.

She printed the hours and slipped back to the staff room's laminator, hurrying back to the desk when she heard the library doors. The library remained fairly busy for the rest of the afternoon, and there wasn't a chance to hang the adjusted hours without leaving the desk unattended with patrons present, so she ended up staying a little later than she'd meant to. Jack was the last to leave, looking out at the darkening parking lot and then back at Jemma. After pausing for a moment on his way toward the door, he changed directions, approaching the desk instead, s.h.i.+fting his computer out of the way so he could write.

Safe here by yourself? Getting late.

Not so late, Jemma wrote back. I'm just running one last report, then I'll leave and lock up.

I can walk you to your car.

Jemma erased the board so she had room to answer. I'm fine. Thanks though.

He looked at her one last time, his brown eyes measuring, and nodded. He waved and left.

Jemma walked around the library, making sure n.o.body was still there, that no books were overtly out of place. She put the report she'd printed in the staff room, locked that door, then left through the main entrance, taping the adjusted library hours on the door on her way out. She got in her little blue car and drove to the nearest Publix, parking after she verified it was open.

The store was nearly deserted. One cas.h.i.+er worked at the front, and another seemed to be trying to handle everything else himself. A few customers browsed the shelves, but it was nothing like she was used to seeing on a Sat.u.r.day evening. She grabbed a cart and went down each aisle, selecting her usual staples. She found herself getting a frozen pizza for that night, not something she normally craved. When she had put her purchases on the conveyor belt and stood by the machine used for payment, she saw a tablet had been taped down to the area usually used for writing checks. Open on the screen was a writing program, the keyboard facing the clerk.

How are you tonight? he typed before touching a corner of the screen. It rotated so it was oriented toward her.

Not bad, she answered. Been busy? She pressed to rotate the display.

Not today. People went nuts at first and the few of us that showed at work couldn't keep up with demand. Slowed down the past couple days though. Which is good 'cause the theft slowed too.

Get a lot of that? she asked when he turned the screen back to her.

Not as bad as some other grocery stores. One across the street had to shut down. Lost too much inventory.

She winced sympathetically. The cas.h.i.+er stopped typing, seeing another customer get in line. Unlike when they'd been able to use voice, it was no longer very easy to chat while ringing up items.

Back in her car, trunk full of groceries, Jemma turned on the radio. A few stations were still working, though not as many as on the television. She avoided the presets with deejays who used voice synthesizers and skipped straight to a college station that was playing music without interruption. She relaxed, the drive automatic, allowing her mind to wander.

There were adjustments to this lack of voice, yes, and some she still needed to get used to. In all, though, now that she wasn't surrounded by barely restrained panic, she found herself enjoying it. She'd always communicated better in writing, and it was a relief to not have to struggle with verbalizing things to strangers. It had certainly cut down on idle chitchat. At the library, she'd been thrust into the head position, for however long that would last. She didn't care to lead, didn't like to try to work around other people's emotions through her tendency to say the wrong thing, but books? She could take charge of books, of the library computers, of helping patrons as she usually did.

If she'd been asked two weeks ago, she'd have been unsure of her ability to cope with running the library branch. Instead, she felt more confident in her abilities than she ever had. Changing the hours had been a good idea, she decided.

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel after making a turn. The tablet being used at the grocery store was a good idea. Her little branch didn't have any tablets, but the downtown branch did. Tomorrow, she'd see whether they could spare one, maybe see how the larger library was doing. It could make things easier; typing was faster and easier than writing, and if anything complicated came up, the little dry erase board that fit so well at the counter might not have sufficient s.p.a.ce to explain.

She could also install an instant messenger on the few public computers they had and set them up to be able to message the main desk's computer. That should cut down on people needing to come to the desk to ask a reference question, and it would reduce the times that Jemma needed to leave the circulation desk unattended.

Parked in her driveway, Jemma felt like she'd had a successful day. Tomorrow would be focused on making the following days even better. She unloaded groceries, put the pizza in the oven, and sat down on the couch with her phone.

I'm home. No issues. Good day? she texted her mom.

The response was immediate. Finally! A few seconds pa.s.sed before another text came through. My day was good. Can we talk online? Easier.

Let me get my dinner first. Talk to you in a few minutes.

Jemma got back up and stretched, then went about getting ready for dinner, reminding herself that she could crawl into bed with a good book as soon as she'd eaten and talked to her mom.

CHAPTER FIVE:.

Adjusting Jemma left her house the next morning around the time the main library had typically opened. The first thing she noticed after getting out of her car was how quiet it was downtown. There were fewer people out and about than usual, sure, but there were enough people that it would normally be a little louder than she liked. Without noise from voices and with less traffic around, people seemed to be walking more lightly, on edge and atypically aware of how much noise they were making. Inside the library, the atmosphere was noticeably more relaxed.

She approached the main desk, smiling at Betsy, a librarian she recognized. She looked around, but instead of the expected whiteboard, she saw a large sign on the counter informing her to text the number provided. When she did, there was a chirp at the phone Betsy held expectantly.

Not using the tablets?

Betsy typed a response, and Jemma's phone buzzed. This has been working well enough. Carson's looking into it.

Carson was the library IT guy, the resident expert in all things electronic.

Who has shown up? Jemma asked.

It's me, Carson, and Jessica T.

Jessica was the head of the downtown branch, effectively in her own line of supervision since the main branch had priority over the smaller libraries. Jemma typed again.

Is Jessica in today?

Betsy nodded, and Jemma pointed toward the office, raising an eyebrow. Betsy nodded again, so Jemma walked toward the office with a wave. Jessica sat at her desk, a ”Mrs. Thomas” name plate glistening proudly on the almost-empty wood. When she saw Jemma walk in, Jessica retrieved a whiteboard from a drawer.

Have you been into work? She put the board at the edge of the desk, pus.h.i.+ng her name plate out of the way. Jemma sat and picked up the board and marker.

Yes. I can't quite keep up with our normal hours on my own, but I've got it as close as I can, she wrote.

Just you?

That answered whether anyone at the city headquarters was monitoring their emails.

Yeah. Haven't been able to get ahold of Susan or Cecily, though honestly I've been too swamped to even get through my inbox. Have you heard from them?

Jessica shook her head. We can't spare anyone to help, either. I'm sorry.

It's fine, Jemma rea.s.sured her. There is something you might be able to help with, though. When Jessica lifted her brows questioningly, Jemma erased the board and continued. Can you spare a tablet? It might help communication at the circulation desk.

Have you tried using phones?

Not all my patrons have cell phones. If you can spare a tablet, I'd rather try that.

Jessica watched her a moment, thinking, then nodded.