THE LIBRARY
The door to the library opens and George enters. The smell of fresh coffee brings a rumble from my stomach and I'm glad George prepared breakfast. Pancakes and muffins and fruit cover the tray. I pick at the strawberries while George waits on me, pouring coffee with cream. Pulling my chair closer to the desk, I lower my face into the hot steam, which provides relief to the hangover pain pounding at my sinuses.
I hear George asking me a question, but the words fly over me without meaning. Rubbing my temples, I wait for him to repeat his inquiry.
"Why have you removed all the books of the private collection from the shelves?" He asks, indicating the row of books on my desk. All of them are plain black leather bound books printed on the press in the basement. Placing my fingers on Ray's collection of stories, I trace my index finger over the fine leather.
"I want you to print several copies of each of these books. I intend to make them available for a select group of friends. So many people ask to borrow the books, but you know I won't share my copy."
George tilts his head to the side and serves the pancakes before responding. "You mentioned wanting to publish Ray's novel. Is that your intent for the rest of the collection?"
"No. Just print extra copies on the press. As is, I won't fix or have the manuscripts edited. Not yet, anyway. I will once I release Preface to a Suicide."
"Very well. I will print ten copies of each."
Closing my eyes, I sip my coffee and enjoy the warmth of the cup against my palms. "Begin with Scott's stories. Someone requested it."
"Anything else today?"
"Yes. Send me Saul. I have something I need done that requires his personal attention."
George smiles and fills my coffee cup when I place it on the desk. "Something or someone?"
"This person won't be a someone for long."
I hear George asking me a question, but the words fly over me without meaning. Rubbing my temples, I wait for him to repeat his inquiry.
"Why have you removed all the books of the private collection from the shelves?" He asks, indicating the row of books on my desk. All of them are plain black leather bound books printed on the press in the basement. Placing my fingers on Ray's collection of stories, I trace my index finger over the fine leather.
"I want you to print several copies of each of these books. I intend to make them available for a select group of friends. So many people ask to borrow the books, but you know I won't share my copy."
George tilts his head to the side and serves the pancakes before responding. "You mentioned wanting to publish Ray's novel. Is that your intent for the rest of the collection?"
"No. Just print extra copies on the press. As is, I won't fix or have the manuscripts edited. Not yet, anyway. I will once I release Preface to a Suicide."
"Very well. I will print ten copies of each."
Closing my eyes, I sip my coffee and enjoy the warmth of the cup against my palms. "Begin with Scott's stories. Someone requested it."
"Anything else today?"
"Yes. Send me Saul. I have something I need done that requires his personal attention."
George smiles and fills my coffee cup when I place it on the desk. "Something or someone?"
"This person won't be a someone for long."
