It takes a few days for Sarah to pull herself together after she leaves the museum with Ted's number in hand, and a promise to catch up sometime soon. She carries that worn cardboard box all the way home, until she's stepping into her apartment, arms trembling.
The box is shoved into a corner, to be quickly forgotten about in favour of a new fantasy novel and later entertaining Pete while he tries to do his homework.
"Morning Sarah," Polly grins. Sarah gives her a quick nod as she walks into the Library on the following Wednesday morning, her feet leading her on autopilot towards the Children's Section
It's midweek, so there aren't really any children exploring the shelves, although the students she usually expects to see on their free periods are nowhere to be seen, nor are the frazzled parents that usually drop by at this time on their work breaks.
In fact, there is only one soul within this part of the library other than herself; the mysterious man, his dark-haired head already bowed behind a newspaper. She watches him for a moment, then turns away. She's not going to spend her shift analysing the poor man's behaviour, for all she knows he has nowhere else to be and everyone knows that the seats in the children's section are much better than the seats elsewhere in the library.
She settles at her desk, pulling out her worn copy of The Hobbit, and tries not to think too hard about the stranger.
Two hours, and one school trip, later and the man is still sitting at the table. He's moved on from the paper to an old biography, which appears to have completely gripped him. She's sort of glad, because she's not sure if she's seen him read anything other than the paper in here. Maybe he is homeless, she thinks eyeing up his creased shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"Sarah!" She jumps as Pete appears, skipping into the library with an almost too big school bag thumping against his back.
"Pete," she narrows her eyes thoughtfully at him, "are you not supposed to be in school right now?"
He shrugs, one of his straps trailing down his shoulder as he pushes up his glasses with another hand, "It's a half day."
"And how exactly did you get to the library from school?"
"Ned's mom gave me a lift because Aunt May and Uncle Ben are working until later," he grins. "They asked if I could keep an eye on you until they were finished working."
"They wanted you to keep an eye on me?"
"Well, they might not have worded it exactly like that…"
She snorts and shakes her head at the boy, "Fine, I grant you permission to reside within the children's section."
"Great!" He grins, moving to pull out several large books from his bag. A large thud echoes as he places them onto the counter with shaky arms, "I need to return these."
'Anyone Can Science' stares up at her from the desk and she barely holds back her expression of distaste at the awful book. Instead she shakes her head, "I really need to order in better science material for you."
"Can you do that?" Pete's eyes are practically sparkling as he leans forward on the desk.
"For my favourite patron, of course," she bops him on the nose, forcing him to go cross-eyed with a giggle. "Just don't tell Cliff."
"I promise!" He starts scrabbling for paper and a pen.
She cocks an eyebrow, "What are you doing?"
"Writing a list," he finishes with a flourish, before tearing the paper free and sliding it across the desk to her. "Here's what I need."
"What you need, eh?"
"Yeah!"
She exhales, scanning the list and noting the titles she has seen on the system already, "Okay. I'll see what I can do."
"Yes! Thank you Sarah!" He sprints off before she can reply, ducking into the Teen Section with reckless abandon - and no doubt in search of more science books. She snorts at his antics; she loves Pete, but his intellect is way beyond what she can even dream of comprehending, what anyone in his life could comprehend if the proud crowing of Ben Parker is any indication.
The thought makes her a little sad. She wonders what it must be like to be so much smarter than your peers, your brain light years ahead of anyone else's - and if it makes Pete feel as isolated as she did waking up in 2011.
Sarah brushes off the depressing thought with a sharp exhale, she needs more coffee.
It's only when she reaches the coffee machine, tucked away in the corner beside her desk, that she realises the strange man hasn't moved in several hours - not even to eat some lunch. She hesitates in front of the machine as it finishes pouring out the strong goop that passes as black coffee - then she slides a couple extra coins into the machine for another cup.
If he is homeless, then he probably doesn't have enough to get himself any food. He is a library patron, and she is a librarian, it's her duty to make sure everyone is okay while they're here. Or at least that's what she tells herself as she crosses the few feet between her and the man; he's still perched at one of the main desks, the biography propped up in front of him.
She's only a few steps away when he finally notices her approach. He goes stiff as she slides the spare coffee across the desk.
"I hope you don't mind but the machine spat out an extra and I don't like these things to go to waste."
He blinks at the cup and then at her, before he accepts it with a slight incline of his head, "Thanks."
"Uhm," she hesitates in front of him, watching like a hawk as he takes a sip of the dark liquid. He does look hungry, but what does she know, she lived during the Great Depression and two world wars where everyone looked hungry all the time, maybe that's just his normal expression. "Are you enjoying it?"
The man glances between the coffee and her, "Well, I mean it's not the best vending machine coffee I've ever had-"
Laughter sputters out of her before she can stop it and he blinks up at her. "I'm sorry!" She grins, "I meant the book?"
"Oh!" His eyes widen slightly, "Uh, yeah, I guess. I've read about Muhammad Ali before but this one is pretty interesting."
"He was an interesting man, that's for sure," she smiles at him. "I'm Sarah, by the way."
"Harold," the man holds out a hand and they shake. "You're the children's librarian, right?"
"Hm," she nods.
"Guess I have you to thank for how nice this bit is then," his smile grows slightly. "I never get any peace in the adults' section. This older woman keeps coming over to tidy up all my books or to ask me why I'm reading my paper in the library."
Sarah nods sympathetically along with the man. She likes Polly, but that is exactly the kind of thing she can imagine the older librarian doing continuously.
"It's my pleasure," she says. "I won't bother you for too long, but my desk is right over there. If you have any questions or need anything just let me know, I can look up the whole library you know."
"Really?"
"Sarah knows everything."
"Jesus!" Sarah jumps, catching her coffee at that last possible second. Pete stands beside her, blinking from behind the rather large glasses perched on the end of his nose, his arms packed full of books, "You scared me, Pete."
"Sorry."
She pouts at him, his expression doesn't look very sorry. She places a hand on her hip as she stares sternly down at him, "What's all these then?"
"I need them," Pete says, his grip tightening on the pile. A quick glance reveals advanced mathematics and biology in his arms, and she barely manages to withhold the fond shake of her head.
"Fine, but only because you returned some of the books you were borrowing." He beams at her and her smile softens. "Go on, go set up in your corner."
He scarpers off to the bean bag he dumped his bag next to earlier, snuggling in so deeply, she's barely able to make out the top of his hair over the top of the brightly coloured material.
"Smart kid." The words draw her attention back to the man, Harold. He's glancing over at Pete curiously, "Reminds me of a friend of mine."
"Do you ever feel lost when they try to talk to you sometimes?"
"All the time."
They share a look, and burst into laughter at the same time. It feels good to laugh with someone new. As if she needed reminding that she could talk to other adults who weren't genius eleven-year-olds or men who were really big children at heart. Speaking of, she thinks she should probably drop Cliff a text soon to check in, she's barely heard from him recently.
"Well," she says after a moment, "I should probably get back to work."
"Yeah, I oughta…" He waves his biography at her shyly.
"It was nice to chat to you, Mr Harold."
"Happy, please," he smiles. "Most people call me Happy."
She inclines her head, "Nice to meet you, Mr Happy."
"You too, Ms Sarah."
She turns to head back to her desk, but pauses, "Oh by the way…"
Happy looks up at her again, "Yeah?"
"I noticed you paused by the culture magazines the other day. The ones with Downton Abbey on the front cover? If you're ever looking for something similar, the 800 shelves to the right should have what you're looking for. Last two bookshelves."
He blinks at her, "Oh, uh, thanks."
"It's my pleasure!" She grins, heading back to her desk.
She tries not to watch Happy, keeping her gaze glued to her dog-eared copy of The Hobbit. But when he gets up a few minutes later making a beeline for the 800 shelves and returns twenty minutes later with two period books under his arm, she can't quite hide the smug grin that crosses her face.
Yes, she thinks smugly, still got it.