Rose's Infamous Library Fines
Puck had a poem written in his honor that morning, by his Aunt Linnea.
And Carrie-Bri was off to the airport again for another week of travel, this time to Austin.
“Ciao,” she said, in her usual farewell and/or greeting, before marching off with Dad’s backpack.
That same pack had seen many a place in the space of only one year.
Back on the ranch, while almost everyone had dispersed for the afternoon, Creole called Frances on the phone during his math session during (of course) the only time Collette had momentarily left the room. Frances was immediately involved in conversation.
“Hey, Creole, say hi to Collette!” He grinned.
The algebra was, needless to say, suspended.
“Hey, Creole, I put you in Puck’s pants!” Frances giggled, after tucking the phone between the chubby’s sweats and diaper.
Puck didn’t seem to mind too much. He was more intent on chasing his car down through the kitchen and devouring every stray fruit Cherrio that had fallen to the floor from his earlier snack hour.
Puck spent the last part of his evening playing “Peek-a-Boo” behind his Runaway Bunny book and talking loudly to a large spoon while lounging on his back in the kitchen, barefoot.
Earlier, Rose, was still becoming used to the world of school on adrenaline: fifteen classes in one semester, six of which she was taking at the community college. But, still, Rose’s mind was only on her MacBook, as it probably would be for some time to come.
“Curly got huge fingerprints all over my laptop!” She announced that morning, blazing through the kitchen for her usual bowl of cereal.
The big event of the day, however, had been Mom’s visit to the library. Rose’s library fine record had finally been sent to a collection agency. Mom decided that it was time to square all accounts with the library. She spent awhile at the Kisker Road branch while Collette, Carrie, and the Puck waited in the car. Finally, she returned.
“It’s all settled,” she said. “Rose’s fines, plus the fee for the collection agency, the smaller fines on the other cards, and the Bing Crosby CD that we never found… It all came to 87 dollars.”
“Holy cow!” Said Collette. “Rose is single-handedly responsible for keeping the library up and running.”
Collette imagined that Rose would not be visiting the library any time soon. They were already refusing her service ever since her library fines had reached somewhere in the vicinity of 30 dollars, earlier the year before.