Emily spent all week at the library, reading everything she could find on cats and second sight and psychic abilities and foxfire in the night. One fascinating piece talked about ley lines, bands of mystic power that supposedly ran invisibly around the globe. Eerie things were said to happen where these lines of earth energies crossed.

Nothing sounded quite like what had happened to her.

Emily reshelved the books and magazines herself. Staff preferred that folks in general leave this task to the library pages, but Emily wasn't "in general."

As she passed the help desk, the information clerk greeted her. "Why, Emily! I didn't recognize you! You look amazing! So much better than last time we— ahem—" She gave a flustered little cough.

"Thank you. Life took an unexpected turn for the better. Say, do you have a copy of the library association's last newsletter?"

"Sure." The clerk handed her a sheet. "When I retire, this rag is the last thing I'll be hunting up. What are you looking for, 'Employee of the Month'? Someone you've worked with?"

Emily laughed. "'Positions Open.' I may just come out of early retirement."

On her way out, she closed a drawer left open on the card catalogue. She bent to pick up a stray rubber band near the checkout counter. Her back hadn't been so limber in years! She straightened the paperbacks on the Banned Book display near the exit. Once a librarian, always a librarian.

And perhaps an employed librarian once more. A new lease on life meant she'd better quit draining her life's savings. They'd have to last a lot longer than she'd thought.

Emily browsed the newsletter as she walked home. No openings locally. Downtown, they needed an acquisitions clerk. Next town over, they needed a page. Ooh, this one looked interesting. Children's librarian! But on the other side of the county. That would mean moving.

Leaving all her friends. Leaving her favorite shops, all within walking distance. Leaving the house her grandmother had left her all those years ago. Leaving the cemetery and one particular headstone.

No, she wasn't ready to move yet. Maybe it was time for a career change instead. Flower arranging, for instance. She liked making corsages.

"Must ask at the flower shop tomorrow," Emily told the notch-eared cat that waited on her porch railing. "After all, I can't abandon you and your kin, not after all you've done for me."

The cat twitched ears, listening to the distant sound of the high school marching band drifting on the evening breeze along with the scents of honeysuckle from the trellis and roses beside the porch.

"No moving, not anytime soon," Emily murmured. "Which means I have an awful lot of yardwork to do!" She surveyed her overgrown lawn and weedy flowerbeds. "I guess Clarissa isn't as interested in inheriting the property as it sounded. All those promises to help out, tsk, tsk. And she hasn't called in weeks."

Inside the house, the phone rang.

.

Written for the prompt: "band"

Set in 1964, is this tale Urban Fantasy or Historical Fantasy?

Update: "Cozy Fantasy" has been suggested for its genre. I like that!

Note: I need do very little historical research for this tale, which gives a hint -- ahem -- as to my age. :D