The laughter.
The computer.
The proof.
When Pearl finished, the librarian removed her glasses.
“First, you already made the design.”
Pearl nodded.
“Second, if the file is in your email, we can download it.”
“Third, our printer takes cream cardstock.”
Pearl’s face brightened.
“You have cream?”
“We have ivory.”
“Is it warm?”
The librarian smiled.
“Very.”
Pearl looked at her name badge.
MARIANNE.
“Marianne.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want you to do it for me.”
Marianne nodded immediately.
“Okay.”
“I want you to tell me what to do.”
“That I can do.”
Pearl felt something loosen in her chest.
Marianne brought her to a computer.
“Start with your email.”
Pearl logged in.
The saved invitation was there.
Marianne pointed.
“Open that.”
Pearl did.
“Now download.”
Pearl clicked.
A box appeared.
“Where did it go?”
Marianne pointed to the upper corner.
“See the arrow?”
“Yes.”
“That shows downloads.”
Pearl nodded.
“Why doesn’t it just say downloads?”
Marianne smiled.
“Because apparently computers enjoy mystery.”
Pearl laughed.
That was the first moment the whole project became enjoyable again.
Marianne never took the mouse.
That mattered.
When Pearl moved too slowly, Marianne waited.
When Pearl clicked the wrong thing, Marianne said:
“Good. Now you know what that does.”
When Pearl accidentally opened a second copy, Marianne showed her how to close it.
No sighing.
No smirking.
No performance.
After twenty minutes, Pearl had uploaded the invitation to the library printer.
A new screen asked:
PAPER SIZE.
COLOR.
COPIES.
Pearl selected one copy.
Marianne stopped her.
“Proof first?”
Pearl smiled.
“Exactly.”
They walked toward the printer station.
It sat farther back than Pearl expected.
A small screen asked for a release code.
Pearl looked at Marianne.
“The computer does the sending and I finish it here?”
“Exactly.”
“Nothing fancy?”
“Nothing fancy.”
Marianne smiled.
“You already did the harder part.”
Pearl looked at her.
“That’s the nicest thing anybody has said about this project today.”
She entered the code.
The printer started.
For several seconds, Pearl listened to the mechanical movement inside.
Then a sheet emerged.
Cream.
Matte.
Warm.
Pearl picked it up.
The blue border looked softer against the paper.
The little flowers sat neatly in each corner.
The navy headline looked exactly as Pearl imagined.
EVELYN BENNETT’S 80TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION.
Pearl ran one finger along the edge.
Her eyes stung.
Marianne stood beside her.
“Well?”
Pearl smiled.
“That’s it.”
“Then we found it.”
Pearl held the invitation up.
“The headline isn’t too plain?”
Marianne studied it.
“Do you want it louder?”
“No.”
“Then it isn’t too plain.”
“The flowers?”
“Do you like them?”
“Yes.”
“Then keep them.”
Pearl laughed.
“You make this sound easy.”
“It is easier when nobody is telling you what you’re supposed to like.”
That sentence stayed with Pearl.
She printed nineteen more.
Then two extras in case somebody made a mistake with an address.
Twenty-two invitations.
The total cost was less than the print shop had quoted.
Pearl paid with her library card account.
Marianne helped her find matching envelopes but let Pearl choose the shade herself.
Before leaving, Pearl looked at the stack.
“I kept thinking I needed somebody else to make these.”