A white woman from a place where there were only white Christians. I was unhappy because even though Stella was nice, she was still a white woman. We were on a first-name basis, Stella and I, but I was unhappy that she held that job. If you were a regular at the library she’d bake you a cake on your birthday and save the books you loved under the front desk. She treated the people who came in there like her siblings and she treated the children like her own. Keaton had was the Ninety-third Street branch. One year after that her brother, Horton, took ill, and after three months he died spitting up blood, in her arms. Keaton had her tragedies he invited her to live with him. Her only living relative had been an older brother who was stationed in San Diego with the navy for ten years. Her husband had a fatal heart attack in ’34 and her two children died in a fire the year after that. “There was a small public library on Ninety-third and Hooper.
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