Chess Or Books?

I go to Barnes and Nobles to people watch, to write, to read or just for a change of scenery while I indulge in a Chai Tea Latte. I enjoy sitting by the fire on a cold or dreary day even when the dreariness has nothing to do with the weather.
I've been there several times while my right hand, in it's purple cast, has been healing. I have observed bored husbands waiting for their wives to finish shopping, girl friends meeting and giggling, students studying with their laptops ready for that next paper to be written, readers actually engrossed in the book they've curled up with in the overstuffed chairs, pastors talking with couples in a non-threatening atmosphere, realtors going through the long process of "sign here... and here," and men playing chess.
I've decided that I want to learn to play chess because nothing else seems to matter except the game. The world, with all its concerns and cares, is left behind at the entrance.
Although I love to escape life through a good book, there are times when life's distractions override even the best novel. So I want to enter the kingdom of pawns, knights, bishops, rooks, queens and kings so I can set aside my pain, my cast, all the things that are hard to do with one hand including writing.
Anyone willing to teach a one-handed player who needs her gray cells stimulated?

I'm off to B & N; maybe there'll be a chess game in process. Connie