![]() I wasn't required to organize the newspapers.īut all that busywork gave me an opportunity to walk by Jason Templeton's table. I didn't have to set out more scratch paper. Strictly speaking, it wasn't necessary to walk by the online catalog. I rang up Marguerite's coffee and crossed back to my desk. I probably deserved everything else that happened that day and in the weeks that followed.Every last thing.Even the- Well. Still, I should never have risked the curse. ![]() Everyone knows that it's bad luck to say the name of Shakespeare's Scottish play. She'd had me track down endless pamphlets about propagating flowering trees. Her name was Marguerite, and she was researching something about colonial gardens. "What's that from, Jane?" asked my customer, a middle-aged woman who frequented the library on Monday afternoons. After all, I was the one who recited the Scottish play as I pulled a gigantissimo nonfat half-caf half-decaf light-hazelnut heavy-vanilla wet cappuccino with whole-milk foam and a dusting of cinnamon."Double, double, toil and trouble," I said as I plunged the steel nozzle into the carafe of milk. I was probably responsible for what happened. If only I'd been properly prepared for my first real job. But there was no course in witchcraft, no syllabus for sorcery. They don't teach witchcraft in library school. ![]()
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