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The tears came then. How had she not known that Carly felt that way? About her dad? About her? About all of it? She wiped at her cheeks, then reached over the seat to grasp Carly’s hand. “You’re everything to me too, sweetheart.”
Wyatt didn’t interrupt their moment, and only when their tears had dried did he get out of the car and open both of their doors. Anita stepped out, thanked him, then pulled Carly into a tight squeeze. They walked into the library with Wyatt leading the way.
Surprisingly, it seemed busy. A senior group must have it as their activity night because there were at least a dozen elderly people milling about. One older man, leaning heavily on a black cane, was speaking to a librarian, much louder than the “Keep Quiet” sign indicated might be acceptable. The man’s white flyaway hair and deep wrinkles told her he had to be nearing ninety.
“I can’t pull out those little cards from the card catalog,” he was saying. “My fingers are too stiff.”
The librarian murmured something, and the man said, “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”
Anita smiled at the interaction.
“I don’t know where to start,” Wyatt said, looking about the space. “Is there a sign on one of the aisles that says ‘Old Yearbooks’?”
“Maybe over here?” Carly pointed to one labeled “Seattle History.”
“It’s as good of a place to start as any.” Wyatt flashed her a smile. Then he lowered his voice even more. “Maybe after the librarian is finished helping that gentleman, we can ask her for help if we don’t find anything.”
“You’ll be waiting a while,” a woman said, passing close to them.
Anita looked over to see an elderly woman with hair silver-white. She wore a pale yellow blouse with a jeweled brooch at the center of the collar. Everything about her bespoke elegance, from the way she angled her head, to her steady blue-green gaze, and the soft scent of roses about her.
The woman smiled conspiratorially. “Herb has been talking to the librarian since we arrived half an hour ago. He does this every trip.”
Anita smiled. “Oh that’s . . . interesting. And no one complains?”
The woman shrugged. “We’ve all learned to fend for ourselves in here. I’ve become a sort of expert, so if you need help, maybe I can guide you in the right direction?”
“That would be wonderful,” Wyatt said. “I’m Wyatt Davis, and these are my friends and research assistants, Anita and Carly.”
“Nice to meet you all,” the woman said. “I’m Maggie Howard. Are you local to the area?”
All of them nodded.
Maggie sighed. “I’ve lived here for decades, and I’ve been coming to the library just as long.”
“Do you check out books on tape?” Carly asked. “That’s what my mom does. She’s an artist, so she listens while she works.”
Maggie’s eyes seemed to lighten. “An artist? How wonderful. I’ve been collecting art most of my life. In fact, that’s why I’m here.”
“To collect art?” Carly asked, clearly confused like Anita was.
“No.” Maggie chuckled. “I’m looking for an artist. Orlando Gallo. Have you ever heard of him? Perhaps artists are all connected?”
The hope in the older woman’s voice was unmistakable.
“Orlando Gallo...” Anita repeated, sorting through any memories of an artist with that name. Nothing came to mind immediately. “His name isn’t familiar. Is he from Seattle?”
“No,” Maggie said, sounding dejected. “He’s from San Francisco. I knew him many years ago.” Her gaze sharpened. “Now. What are you on the hunt for today? I’m sure your adventure is much more interesting than mine.”
Before she or Wyatt could answer, Carly spilled out all the information. Starting with her suspension in school, then her service hours at the assisted living home, meeting Mr. Davis, and his high school sweetheart Susan. “We don’t know if she’s real, though,” she said, her voice nearly breathless with talking so fast.
Maggie Howard didn’t seem to have any trouble following, though. Her eyes had widened as if she was hanging on every word.
“So we’re going to find old yearbooks.” Carly glanced at Wyatt. “From 1918 or 1919.”
“From 1919.” He smiled at Maggie. “Maybe you can point us in the right direction?”
She set a hand on her hip, a couple of stunning rings on her hand catching the light. “I think you were heading in the right direction. There’s also a section on education a couple of aisles down from Seattle History. I can help you look too.”
