“Hello,” Nell said, studying him as they shook hands. He was the right age—not more than a year or two older than her father—with dark brown skin that contrasted warmly with his short silver beard. He had an inch or two on even the tallest guests, but there was something very closed and wary about his manner. It was very like Ramona’s had been, Nell realized.
Francis seemed nervous.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he replied to her, voice low.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It means so much that you all came to say goodbye to Dr. Young,” Swann added.
“He truly was a force,” Wolff agreed, to a round of nods. “May we all be so passionate. Law pays the bills, and for my own little collection, but if my collection could also be my life . . .”
“If only.” Julian toasted the circle. “Hedge funds aren’t much of an adventure either. I complain so much, my husband is begging me to quit, despite the money.” He sighed. “In a way, I imagine it almost might have been a dream for Dr. Young, to work until the very last second. But if I were to expire at my desk—”
“Julian,” Claire admonished, gesturing to Nell. “That’s ghastly.”
Nell smiled. “That was actually my first thought, too. That he went doing something he loved.” She looked between them as she said it, curious if any of the others had also started to wonder if there was more to her father’s passing than simply old age. Her gaze landed on Francis, who looked quickly away.
Clearly he thinks so, she thought.
“I actually just heard the police are now considering Dr. Young’s death as suspicious, and connected to the burglary the day after,” Wolff began—and then gasped, horrified. “I’m so sorry!” he said to Nell. “We’ve been meeting so often these past few days, sometimes I forget we’re not in the boardroom still, discussing library business. I truly didn’t mean to gossip about your father at his own funeral.”
“I’m glad to know the police are looking into it,” Nell said.
“Lieutenant Cabe came by the library to update us this morning,” Irene explained to her and Swann. “I told him you two were already at the church preparing for the funeral. I’m sure he’s going to call you tomorrow.”
Nell nodded. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Of course, the more the police dug, the greater the chance they’d figure out who robbed the library and possibly murdered her father, which was justice she desperately wanted. But it also meant that they might figure out that he’d had the gas station highway map with him at the time of his death and begin trying to find out where it had gone.
She didn’t like that at all. Not until she’d figured out why it was at the center of all of this herself.
“Nell, if you’ll excuse me and Swann for a bit,” Irene said, oblivious to her fretting. “An old donor and his family just arrived, and we should go greet them.”
“Of course,” Nell agreed.
The group was quiet as Irene and Swann departed, and then yet another toast was made to Dr. Young. Nell raised her glass and lowered it without drinking again. She wondered how anyone was supposed to remain upright by the end of one of these events.
“It will be impossible to replace him,” Wolff finally said.
Nell sighed. The sparkling crowd in front of her, all of whom were so incredibly wealthy that they more floated above the cartography industry than walked through it, likely had no idea about the day-to-day business of the library—and especially not a long-ago scandal of a lowly intern. They might not even know that she had once worked for the NYPL or been a cartographer in her own right at all. But still, the comment stung.