The book slammed to the floor and slid. Another followed and another. Soon the wood was littered with copies of the Brown family, from Dan to Sandra.
"Can I help you?" I said as I watched the woman drop the book to the floor, read the back of the next and drop it onto the growing pile.
A man rounded the far corner, hands in his pockets. His face was lean to her round, but they shared the same pale blonde hair and wore matching sweaters. He leaned into her and kissed her cheek.
"Those look good, hon," he said of her pile.
"I think so," she said, "They'll do."
"Do you…" I said, "Um, do you want a bag or something?"
They both ignored me. He turned around facing the opposite shelves and sat on the floor. Taking one book from a shelf and one from the woman's pile, he began stacking them. The stacks rose as I watched, one after another, his pale hands moving and grasping and balancing. When a stack went past his arm reach, he started a new stack.
She continued the task of taking, looking, dropping, and taking again.
"Excuse me?" I said. They ignored me.
I walked toward them, quick steps of my sneakers squeaking on the fresh wax as the floor boards creaked. I reached them spoke again and was ignored.
"Shhh," the man at my feet said from behind the stacks of books, "Do you hear that?"
She stopped and her head tilted, "No, nothing. What was it?"
"Sounded like someone walking this way. We should check out soon, mother will be waiting."
"Okay," she said with a smile.
She leaned down to him, first bending at the waist as if to help him up. Then she bent her knees and fell below my sight behind the wall he had created. I leaned over and started to speak, but they were gone.
I stepped away, walking backward toward the stairs. I called out for the page and asked him what he saw.
"You blocked off the B's?" he said.
"Not me," I said.
"I'm not cleaning it up," he said, and walked away leaving me alone.
To my right a floor board creaked and I jumped. It was nothing.