“Well . . . ,” Nell faltered.
“Would you like to be in research? Or special collections? Name a position—it’s yours.”
Nell tried to find the words, but she could barely breathe.
Just tell her.
Irene had all but handed her an employment contract. The library was just inches away from her grasp once more.
Tell her and let it go.
“So, what did you find?” Irene asked.
“I—”
But this map had become so much more than that. She still wanted the library—but she wanted her answers more.
“I didn’t find anything,” she finally said.
Irene blinked, surprised. The hopeful expression on her face tumbled. “That’s—that’s a shame,” she managed.
“I’m sorry,” Nell rushed on guiltily. “I really tried, and I can always keep looking, but—”
“No, no,” Irene insisted. She was deeply disappointed, struggling to pull herself back together and find the composed public face she needed to host the event. She’d been counting on Nell even more than she’d realized, Nell could see. “I am so grateful for everything you’ve done already. Really, I should never have asked you for this. It must have been so difficult. I feel terrible.”
“Please, I really did want to help. I just . . . ,” Nell began.
Then, over Irene’s shoulder, she noticed a face that startled her into silence.
Francis Bowden.
After avoiding her so desperately at the funeral, what was he doing here?
“Francis,” Irene said, having turned around to see who Nell was staring at. “I thought you were back at Harvard already.”
Francis said something about how he had to return tomorrow but wanted to pay his respects as he reached out to shake Irene’s hand. His voice was low and hurried just like before, and he looked like a trapped animal, despite his size.
“I need to talk to you,” Nell said before he could escape.
He looked at her sharply, but there was nothing for him to do but agree. He couldn’t simply run away from Irene the way he’d run away from Nell after the funeral without raising eyebrows.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he finally said.
Irene politely waved off his apology. “I need to make my rounds anyway. The race for donors never ends.” She gave Nell a polite, but crestfallen, smile. “Please enjoy the event.”
Francis watched Irene float away like a shipwrecked man watching the last life raft disappear.
“Why are you here?” Nell said, before he could make up an excuse. “After refusing to tell me anything at the funeral.”
“To keep an eye out for you,” he said.
“I doubt that,” she replied. “You won’t even speak to me.”
“Speaking to you and keeping an eye out for you are different things.” He lowered his voice further. “I owe it to your father.”
“That’s what Ramona and Eve keep saying, too—but he’s gone. I’m the one here now.”
At the mention of Ramona and Eve, Francis’s expression clouded further, but Nell stepped closer, refusing to give up. “And I know more than you think.”
“Come,” he finally said. “Not here in the middle of the room.”
Nell followed him closely, afraid to let him vanish like he did last time, as he led them to the far end of the lobby, where the crowd was more scattered.