The slow build is slowly building. If you like long teases, please enjoy. I know I do.
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By the afternoon of day two, Luke was regretting ever having volunteered for the event in the first place. His legs ached as they climbed up the stairs from the basement for what must have been the hundredth time. What was worse about old books--the moldy smell that filled his lungs or the fine dust that clung to his face and neck--he couldn't say. He was certain, though, that he could scratch book collector off his list of future hobbies.
"Here's another bunch," he said, dropping the yellowed cardboard box onto the pile. "These are..." he squinted at the faded handwriting, "geography and travel, I think."
Mrs. Mingle lifted the lid with great effort and peered inside. Among the old ladies who made up the library's staff, she was the very oldest. "Could you be a dear...?" she began.
Luke gave a tight smile and hoisted up the box. "Of course. Front room, non-fiction, right?" He knew she had about as much chance of lifting up the box herself as she did of lifting up him.
"Thank you so much," she said and shuffled off towards another pile of boxes.
Despite being dusty, tired, and in need of a cool drink, he appreciated the fact that they appreciated him. The annual library sale seemed like a hit but did not seem to attract the young crowd. He was easily half the age of anyone here, customers and volunteers alike. The popular fiction and children's book sale was located across the street in a separate building and that seemed to siphon away anyone under the age of AARP membership. As a result, Luke's role was essentially that of grunt work: moving boxes, carrying orders out to cars, and the like.
He eased his way through the crowd, maneuvering the box as best he could past patrons stacking fistfuls of books into their hands. The fact that an ordinary library book sale could attract this much attention came as quite a surprise, but then it did seem like the town was more educated and civically engaged than where he'd grown up. Heaps more money, too. That his family was now included in their ranks was something that Luke was still adjusting to.
The new neighborhood, the big house full of stuff, the jet-setting lifestyle that suddenly enthralled his parents--it had all come at him at once. He held no romantic notions of his impoverished childhood. Being broke sucked, no two ways about it. But the relentless speed of their transformation after the lottery win had gone largely undiscussed, beyond the tacit understanding that money was here now and having it was a good thing. His parents had fled to far-flung beaches, Janie had retreated inward, and Luke, left to reckon on his own, had chosen to bury himself in whatever could occupy his time, and the more manual the labor the better. At least it was familiar.
He was bent over, finally setting the box down and ready to call it a day when he heard the shrill voice of Louise, a fellow volunteer who'd spent the entire day nattering on with friends. "Of course we can help get these to your car. Luke! Where did he get to? Lu-uuke?"
Luke rose and turned around slowly, ready to tell Louise that she might consider picking up one goddamn box today herself when the words died on his lips.
There, standing beside the checkout table, was a knock-out older woman standing in profile. Her sleeveless halter top and form-fitting white jeans emphasized her prodigious curves. Just getting to glimpse a woman like that made him feel a little better about spending his day shuffling dusty boxes around. Then she turned her head towards him, then gave a big wave and a smile. Wait, he knew that face from somewhere...
"Luke!" said the woman. It was the neighbor from next door. She bounded towards him and he tried not to stare at her boobs as they wobbled back and forth on their approach. Before he knew what was happening, she cried, "Hi, neighbor!" and pulled him into a hug. His body mashed up against her breasts and he did he best to appear unreactive.
"Oh, hi, uh..."
"Oh, god, I'm so sorry!" she said. "I'm your next door neighbor. I had a great talk with your sister the other day. She couldn't stop talking about you, by the way. She's positively obsessed. I feel like I know all about you and you probably don't even know my name, do you?"
He smiled, chagrined.
"I'm Meredith," she said, extending her hand, which he took.
"I'm--," he began.
"Luke," she interjected. "My strapping new neighbor, of course."
His blush was not quite as prominent as Janie's but his cheeks did redden a bit. In want of a suitable reply, he crossed his arms across his chest, knowing it showed off his biceps. But then he dropped them just as quickly, suddenly concerned that his preening might
look
like preening.
Meredith studied him for moment, then said, "Actually, I have a teensy favor to ask, if you don't mind putting those muscles to work."
Maybe she had noticed his arms, he thought, pleased. "You want me to carry those books to your car?"
They turned towards her purchases sitting beside the checkout table. Where he'd been expecting a pile of books or maybe a box, he saw a stack of six large boxes with a handwritten note taped to the topmost box that read "Ollander."
Meredith gave him a smile and a shrug. It made her boobs wiggle ever so slightly. "What can I say? I'm a reader. But there's no way I'll be able to get them all from the car into the house. So... I was hoping..."
It took Luke a moment to catch on. "Oohhh, you want me to carry them into your house for you."
"Would you? That would be so kind." Her plump lips parted into a big smile. A smile, he thought, that could melt snow. This close to her, he could smell her perfume, and he felt a swelling in his pants.
"It would be my planor," he said with the cool confidence of leading man suavity.
"Such a gentleman. Let me just settle up with Louise." She walked away, leaving Luke to wallow in the moment.
Planor?!
What he'd meant to say, of course, was that it would be his
pleasure
. Or his
honor
. But they'd gotten jumbled on the way out of his mouth. So much for cool confidence. Red-faced and slump-shouldered, he trailed behind Meredith.
After a several minutes of chatter with Louise which Luke largely tuned out, Meredith managed to extract herself with, "Yes, yes... I promise... I'll call you for the next one... Bye-bye."
She slipped over to Luke and took him by the upper arm, which sent another little thrill through him.
"Ok," she confided, "We're free."
"I should probably tell someone that I'm leaving..." he began.
"I already talked to them. They said to tell you 'thank you for all the help this weekend and you're free to go.' Personally, I think they'd like you to stick around. I see some of these old gals can't keep their eyes off you."
