“Oh, no, I’m excited about the class. I’ve never made a book before. No, I’m actually nervous about a new account I’m pitching tomorrow for the center. They could be a great asset. Matching funds, the whole deal.” She whipped around and looked at Layla, then back at me. “Why am I going on and on? I warned Layla I’d start blathering.”
Layla smiled. “You’re not blathering.”
Alice shook her head. “You’re very kind, but Stuart says I talk too much when I’m nervous and he’s right, of course. Stuart’s my fiancé.” She held up her hand and wiggled her finger, where a large and absolutely stunning diamond ring twinkled and dazzled.
“Wow, that’s a beautiful ring,” I said.
“Thanks,” Alice said, gazing fondly at her ring. “Stuart is still back in Atlanta, closing up his office. He’ll move out here next month. He’s great. And he’s so smart. And when he says I talk too much, he’s right. I, well . . . I’m doing it again.” She laughed.
Layla smiled indulgently. “You’re doing fine.”
I wondered if my eyes were as big and round as they felt. I’d never seen Layla actually dote on anyone before. But I couldn’t blame her. Alice was adorable, despite being friends with Layla.
“No worries,” I said, and meant it. “We’re glad to have you.”
“I’ll try not to talk everyone’s ears off,” Alice said earnestly. “But my nerves. Oy.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She was sweet. I wanted to take her shopping and buy her a cup of hot cocoa. And it was weird, but I had an urge to rescue her from Layla’s influence, just as I’d wanted to rescue the Oliver Twist from Layla’s greedy paws earlier.
Layla, all cheery and upbeat now, said, “I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to have Alice working at BABA. She’s already highly respected in the arts fund-raising world, so now I want her to learn every aspect of the book world and BABA’s place in it. She’s met a few of the teachers, but this will be her first classroom experience. I thought I’d start her off at the top with your excellent master class.”
“Thank you, Layla,” I said, my BS meter still ticking at full capacity. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
Layla beamed at my humble appreciation of her words. I supposed, or hoped, that this was her way of extending a peace offering. I had no choice but to play her game, seeing as how she signed my checks.
“I’ll leave Alice in your good hands, then,” Layla said, and gave the class a queenly wave before whisking herself away.
As the door closed, I happened to notice Tom Hardesty staring at Layla’s backside. Were those stars in his eyes? He looked like a teenager about to swoon over a rock star.
I stole a glance at Cynthia, whose look of sheer contempt was quickly replaced by mild interest.
Well, that was intriguing. Cynthia didn’t seem to like Layla at all. It was no wonder, given the way her husband practically drooled over the woman. Very interesting, I thought. No, wait, it wasn’t interesting at all. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in boardroom theatrics or BABA politics. And it could be job suicide if Tom or Cynthia knew I’d even noticed their reactions to Layla.
Alice looked up at me. “Thank you so much for letting me take your class.”
“It’s my pleasure. Always room for one more.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it. Layla can be a bit of a bulldozer, but I promise I won’t slow the class down. I studied art and I love books, so I’m fascinated to learn more.”
“Great,” I said with a nod. “This is the perfect place to learn more. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Thanks,” she said, and leaned close to speak quietly. “But in the interest of full disclosure, I should warn you that ever since I moved here, my stomach has been going bonkers. I’ve been getting tested for everything but the doctors don’t know what’s going on.” She rubbed her belly for emphasis. “I’m just telling you because I tend to run off to the ladies’ room with alarming regularity. I’ll try not to be too disruptive about all the comings and goings.”
“Good to know,” I said, biting back a smile. At least she was honest, and I appreciated her self-deprecating wit. And now that I’d had a moment to study her more closely, the name Alice suited her perfectly, from her demure white blouse to her straight blond hair and velvet headband.
Her cell phone beeped and she jumped, then checked the screen. She shook her head and shot me a beleaguered look. “Sorry. Stuart and I text incessantly. We’re having wedding issues.”
“You have my complete sympathy,” I said, patting her shoulder. I handed her a set of tools and pointed to an empty chair. “Why don’t you sit over there next to Tom, and we’ll get started with sewing signatures?”
One hour later, I walked the periphery of the classroom, helping those who were struggling with the kettle stitch, the intricate nineteenth-century thread pattern used to sew linen tapes to signature pages. For some, the tricky part was drawing the thread through the paper without actually piercing the linen strips that would hold everything together. For others, it was keeping the thread tension even, as they added a new set of signatures to the previous one.