It was another stormy morning: dark and stormy. It was the kind of morning that makes you wish you could stay in bed. Alas, discount theological books will not sell themselves. Independent Christian book sellers are few and far between now-a-days and this one is worth the hassle of bare feet on a cold floor. I shuffled into work fighting the chill and the oppressive gloom. Wednesdays should be brighter than this. I got to the store later than usual. Something wasn’t right. There was activity within. A strange hum – not unlike a vacuum – indicated that just beyond the door some THING, some friend or foe, was up to something. After a quick (and whispered) pep talk I cautiously I turned the key in the door. My mind was racing. Would I catch the sweet patron of Crux who had restored our sign? Would it be a thief? A frat boy? A phantom? I slowly twisted the door handle. The door was opened just a crack. It was open just enough for me to discern the shape of a person. The person was vacuuming. What dastardly thief cleans up after themselves? Clearly this was no ordinary run of the mill biblio-napping! This was a mastermind! It must have been the infamous book bandit: Cynthia May Kasten. She’d finally found me! I knew she eventually would. She always did. Her insatiable appetite for sound theological writings means that we are never far apart. Just this past January she had had her way with the Anglican Book Centre. She showed up one night and the next day the whole store was gone. Such a tragedy! The loss is still felt among the small independent Christian Book Retailer community. If only her brilliance would be used for good! If only she had turned over a new leaf! What joy would fill my heart if it had been she who restored our sign! Bolstered by this new hope I threw open the door to Crux and switched on the light. Triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear, I turned to her only to find that it was not Cynthia May Kasten at all. It was Cindy Hayley. It was the owner. She had come in early to make sure her beloved store was in ship shape.
“Good Morning Cindy” I said, as I hung up my hat and trench coat. “gloomy day we’re having.”
“It’s just a rainy day, I wouldn’t call it gloomy! Without the rain there would be no flowers.” She was like a breath of the spring Toronto kept forgetting to have.
“Any news about the sign?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” She asked, visibly confused by my question.
“It’s mysterious reappearance” I offered as a means of clarification. “The sign that was missing – that we found in the maintenance office – it has been returned. I even think it got a fresh coat of paint! Who could have done this? What good Samaritan has restored our sign?”
“Oh? It was…”
“Was it Dr. Heather? Could it have been our very own do-gooding Bonnie and Clyde: The Mugfords? Was it Helen? Alain? Sheila? Or perhaps Trinity College is trying to convince us to move over into their space as part of the Wycliffe/Trinity rivalry? Was it Tom Power? His office is conveniently located for such activity! Was it Brian Walsh? He has always questioned the wording of our sign – discount theological books or discount theological books – double meanings abound! Could it have been the Professors Taylor? They seem capable of something that lovely! Or was it… Ed! Hi!”
Ed joined us carrying not one but two boxes of delicious girl guide cookies.
“A co-worker’s daughter is in Guides so I thought I would bring a couple boxes over. Have you seen the sign? What do you think?”
“Oh. It was you.”