White Magic Christmas

Chapter 5: December 1

The library was easy to find, just where Geri had said it would be, in an modest stone building with stained glass windows along the front. Ivy walked up the front stairs and let herself in. The interior felt dim after the bright day, but her eyes quickly adjusted to find a man sitting at a desk right in front of her, smiling.

"Reporter?" the man asked.

"You're the second person who's tried that guess today," Ivy said with a smile. "Guess you get a lot of reporters around here this time of year?"

"More than our fair share," the man agreed. "Do you need history, science, or human interest?" he asked.

Ivy laughed, and didn't bother correcting him. "A little of everything, I guess, but maybe I could start with history?"

"In fact, all those things are in the same place," he said with a wink, getting up from behind the desk. "Follow me to the newspaper archives."

He led the way around the corner, past what must have been the bulk of the tiny library's stacks. At the back of the room, several comfortable chairs were set up beside tall windows. These were not stained glass, but let in brilliant morning sunshine. The chair closest to the windows was occupied by a lady of truly ancient appearance, wrinkled face and wispy white hair tucked into a massive swath of scarves or blankets. Her hands moved busily in her lap, a pair of knitting needles flying between them.

"Hello Grandma!" the librarian said at top volume as they walked past her. "I like the colors of this one!" The item issuing forth from the knitting needles was lime green, striped through with pink and purple. It was so ugly, Ivy thought, it might just be gorgeous. The old woman nodded her head, and Ivy wasn't sure if she'd heard them, or was just bobbing in time with her needles.

"Is she actually your grandma?" Ivy asked as she followed the librarian through a door into a smaller room. He laughed.

"I should take that as a compliment. Do I look young enough to still have a grandma kicking around?" he asked. Another question Ivy didn't have the tact to answer appropriately. "She isn't really my grandma, but she almost looks old enough for it to be possible, doesn't she? That's Mrs. Clothor, town legend. She is actually the grandma of quite a few townsfolk, but even those of us not related by blood have called her 'grandma' for as long as I can remember. In fact, if she's hearing well enough today, you might consider asking her about some area history. Not many books can tell you more than she can."

He showed Ivy how the printed papers were arranged in an immense cabinet of drawers, then showed her how to use the microfiche machine to view even older papers. Ivy's heart sank. Nothing digitized here? She thanked the man and settled into the chair.

After twenty minutes of battling with the paper index, Ivy gave up and headed back out into the main room. She took one of the plush chairs and pulled it closer to the window and Grandma Clothor.

"Hello Mrs. Clothor!" Ivy said, aiming for the same volume the librarian had used before.

"I'm not deaf, child!" the woman said in a voice like dry leaves.

"I'm sorry!" Ivy said, abashed.

"Well, a little deaf maybe," she conceded. "And call me Grandma, like everyone else does. Or Granny C, if you prefer."

"What are you working on?" Ivy asked, trying to find the right middle ground between too loud and too soft.

"Scarves," Granny C said. "Knit them every year for the parade."

"Parade?" Ivy asked.

"Didn't do much homework before coming out our way, did you?" Granny C said, squinting over at her.