The heavy library door fell into the lock with a thump of finality while a chime sang out its cheery welcome. My glasses fogged from the sudden warmth and added to my sense of apprehension and worry. This was where the rest of my life started—my adult life. My first job, and instead of being happy about it, anxiety made me want to run.

I shook the snow out of my curls and dug in my backpack for a paper tissue to restore my sight—and allow me to inspect my new working place. The library occupied the ground floor of a historic warehouse. A row of tall windows to the street front promised bright sunshine on a summer day.

Right now, with low-hanging clouds shedding heavy flakes outside, the soft grey light filtering into the high-ceilinged room was no competition to the friendly glow of the artificial illumination. It painted circles of welcoming warmth onto the spotless hardwood floor. In the centre of the reception area, a polished monstrosity of a period desk clashed with the state-of-the-art computer terminal sitting on top of it.

As I wiped the slush from my shoes on the floor mat and wriggled out of my down parka, a husky, female voice reached me from the depth of the vast room.

"We're closed until nine. Didn't you see the sign on the door?"

Great, a grumpy coworker was exactly what I needed on my first day. "Excuse me, I—"

"I told you we're closed. Now, get out and come back after nine. Hush."

Did she believe I ignored the sign with the opening hours for no reason? The irritation about the invisibility of my unfriendly conversation partner sharpened my tone. "I was told to be here at eight to get my introduction, madam."

Instead of an answer, I heard something clattering behind several rows of shelves and a muttered curse. The temptation to quit before I'd even met my coworker or—worse—my new superior proved hard to fight. For a moment I stood, gnawing my lip. But there was nothing to be done about it. I needed this job, even if it was just for a few weeks. Besides, the woman I talked to on the phone had been friendly and enthusiastic about my application.

With a suppressed sigh, I hung my parka next to a peach-coloured wool coat on a coat rack by the door, took several deep breaths, and steeled myself to brave my potential new nemesis while I took in the room.

To the right, towards the window front, an open area with a purple sofa, several armchairs, and two dozen colourful sitting cubes invited visitors for a stay. The display of books on low shelves told me this was also the children's section. I turned to the left, where row after row of sleek metal shelves hoarded the treasures of this place.

The voice of the unfriendly woman had come from between the shelves, so I went to search for her there. From the first, empty aisle I tiptoed to the next, but jumped when a thump and the door chime announced a new arrival.

With a waft of chilly air, a short, chubby woman bundled up against the ugly weather entered the room like a whirlwind shedding snowflakes. Between a purple knitted hat and a fluffy scarf of the same colour, I couldn't see much of her face except a snub nose reddened by the cold and a pair of silver-rimmed, fogged spectacles. She took them off and sent me a broad smile.

"Hey, you must be Lynn. I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice, my dear."

She unwrapped her scarf and slipped out of her oversized coat. Beneath, she wore a petrol coloured cardigan over a blue pullover and a faded pair of jeans. Her unruly grey hair was braided, but several strands had escaped her attempt to tame them and curled around a beaming face.

"We talked on the phone, remember?" She slipped out of high winter boots and into a pair of worn out Birkenstocks. "I'm Marjorie. Are you still happy to give this a go?"

Of course I remembered the call, and she was just as friendly as I had imagined her after our chat. Her down-to-Earth presence and sparkling energy made my anxiety evaporate like mist in the morning sun.

"Sure, if you'll have me?"

"What a question. I'm delighted you came. Now, let's get you settled first. I'm so sorry I've been late today. With the ice and slush, I had to take extra care to ensure my old bones didn't suffer more than necessary. Have you already had a cup of tea? No?"

Overwhelmed by her excitement, I shook my head.

"Well then, let's correct this. Come, come, our kitchenette is right over here."

She ushered me into a small, windowless office, the walls decorated with faded postcards and posters from author readings long past, and filled the kettle in a tiny but spotless kitchen corner. While we waited for the water to boil, she opened a tin with homemade cookies and arranged them on a plate, but never stopped chatting. In time, I relaxed enough to contribute to the conversation more than a few monosyllable answers. When the whistle blew, she called out into the room.

"Conny, tea is ready. Come meet Lynn, our new coworker."

My heart skipped a beat. I'd all but forgotten about the other woman.

Conny turned out to be a head taller than me, slim, blonde, and in her forties. Unlike Marjorie, she wore formal office clothes, and not a hair in her bun dared to move out of place. Her grey eyes were guarded and a few worry lines seemed engraved in her face as she nodded at me instead of a greeting and took the offered cup.

"So, you are the replacement?"

I exchanged a glance with Marjorie. "Yes, if that's alright."

The elder woman smiled. "Of course it is. You'll see, the both of you are going to have a lot of fun while I'm bored in the hospital."

I wasn't too sure about this, but I didn't dare to raise an objection. The corners of Conny's mouth twitched downward. So, we seemed to agree at least on this one point. But Marjorie bit into a cookie and chatted on, oblivious.

"The doctors insist my new hip will allow me to walk pain-free in no time. If all goes well, I should be back and good as new in four to six weeks." She sipped her herbal tea with a dreamy smile. "It will almost be spring and we can have fresh flowers in here again."

Right now, the prospect of spring seemed like a beautiful mirage, even if I'd be on the job hunt again as soon as Marjorie returned from convalescence. I had enough of the cold season and freezing in my tiny apartment because I couldn't afford proper heating. A sobering thought hit me—six weeks wasn't too long. I probably should continue looking for a job straight away.

"When is your surgery scheduled?" Conny asked what had been nagging my mind.

"This coming Thursday. I thought it best to bring in Lynn as soon as possible to allow her a few days to get used to the job. After all, we have a bunch of activities coming up, and I don't want to overburden you, my dear."

Conny's face remained unreadable as she denied a second cookie. "Great. I assure you, with the audit and invoice coming up, I don't have time for shenanigans. Please give Lynn a proper introduction to the house rules so she can make sure the kids won't keep me from work." She placed her empty cup in the sink and left.

Marjorie winked and downed her own tea. "No worries, I'll show you around—this is not rocket science after all. I'm sure you'll enjoy working here. This library is a magic place."

While she washed the three cups and placed them in a drying rack, I studied the activity poster pinned to a corkboard. There was a list of planned author readings on Thursday evenings. Wednesday afternoons, the library offered a reading hour and activities for children. Tuesday morning, a knitting circle took place. Also, there was a photo exhibition announced in three weeks.

"Exciting, isn't it? I'm so sorry I'll miss the vernissage. But I'm sure you and Conny will do great. Besides, Paco is such a sweetheart, he'll help you with the installation and everything. I have a great feeling about this."

I didn't, but in the face of her contagious enthusiasm, I also didn't find the words to voice my concerns. Instead, I concentrated on the poster of a misty landscape. It promised a collection of pictures called 'The Power of Imagination' by an artist called Paco Martinez. I had never heard of him and just hoped he wasn't as arrogant and lofty as Conny—when seen without those rose-tinted spectacles Marjorie seemed to be born with.

She studied my face, a worry line on her forehead. "Everything alright?"

"Sure, only kind of overwhelmed. What am I meant to do—I mean, what is my job?" Perhaps, if I started somewhere, things would fall into place.

The line disappeared, and the smile returned. "Oh, of course you're eager to start. Well, you are supposed to run the front desk during the opening hours. Also, doing the round each morning to assure all books stand at their rightful place. And the activities, of course. Conny isn't fond of those, I'm afraid. She'll share the work at the reception and take care of all the administrative parts, like the correspondence and contact with publishing houses. She also keeps our accounts in order. As I told you on the phone, I'm responsible for the public contact. Do you feel up to this?"

"If you show me what I have to do, I'm sure I'll manage." I doubted I was the best person for customer contacts, but was determined to give my best.

"That's the spirit. Well, perhaps you could do the rounds while it's still quiet. This way, you get a grasp of our range of selection and the layout of the library. Meanwhile, I'll hold the desk. There is a class of schoolchildren scheduled to visit later, so you can see how we work with them. And in the afternoon, Conny can show you how the catalogue and the loan system work."

This sounded doable. While Marjorie and Conny sat down in the office, the next hour found me walking row after row of the shelves and checking if all the books stood in the right order and with their spines aligned with the edge of the shelf. Colour coded labels helped me find my way around. Only a few shelves needed reordering, mostly the comics section and the row with mature content.

What sounded like a rather boring job at first turned out to be a discovery trip into the world of stories. I found so much interesting reading material that I decided I'd need a library card of my own. I had reached the back corner of the room and the section for classic literature when the light above me faded and left me in the gloom. My search for a light switch was in vain, and I stared at the offensive lamp with a frown.

It blinked twice and gave off the same bright light as before. Weird. As soon as I turned back to my job, it faded again. Someone was playing tricks.

"Stop it, this isn't funny." I looked around, but couldn't spot an offender. The light flickered into existence again, but snuffed out when I returned to my task. This time, I thought I heard a soft noise. Was this a—purr?

I squinted my eyes, and then I saw it. On the shelf in the corner snuggled a cat in front of the cover of Pride and Prejudice, ears erect, eyes closed, and the bushy tail wrapped around the body.

"Huh." The tabby licked a paw as if this was the most important thing in the world and ignored me the way only cats can. Then it hit me. "Why are you glowing blue?"