Liesl tucked her head down to recall their last meeting, a long embrace in a small hotel room. Liesl might be reserved, but she was too human to do away with the memories altogether, no matter the decisions she had made after. Those annual encounters, the afternoons in the small hotel room as rare-books scholars spoke in the ballroom downstairs; those afternoons lingered.
“I arranged the interview. Christopher loves you, and your credentials are good. You got the job yourself.”
“Grand. And I admire Christopher, but he’s a bloke, and I didn’t pick up my life to shag him. Nice fellow and all, but I don’t believe he’s ever said he’d leave his wife for me.”
Liesl put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “I didn’t promise that. And if… I shouldn’t have if I did. John doesn’t deserve the things I said. Nor does your wife.”
“What of the things we did? What of those?”
The elevator pinged. The door slid open; Christopher stepped out. He was curtained in shadow. Liesl caught a sway in his posture.
Christopher put his arm around Francis’s neck. “Time to go, plebe. Whiskey and the world await us. If I’m to impart twenty years’ worth of knowledge, we have to get started.”
“Whiskey” spooked Liesl. Francis saw her go gray, saw her eyes change. “Will you be joining us then?” he asked her.
Christopher didn’t laugh; he boomed. “She’s in the family way.”
There it was.
The elevator was about to close. “I’ll grab this lift,” Liesl said. “See you both in the morning.”
Francis was silent, the long silence allowing him the time to count back months should he be so inclined. Christopher said, “You two know each other from the conference circuit. Better to let me get a look under Francis’s covers myself. Spirit and strength to you, Liesl! Isn’t that your standard toast, Francis?”
Liesl nodded as the elevator closed on her.
When he thought she was out of earshot, Christopher said, “I thought I was home free with the old bird and the baby business, but these career women can surprise you.”
19
It was January, and it was all over. The books had been restored to their places on the shelves. The cardboard boxes marked “evidence” had been flattened and taken to the recycling station on the loading dock. Researchers came to do their research, and students came to do their studying, and the library ceased being a crime scene and resumed the role of library. Criminal charges would not be filed against a dead man, and the people outside of the library had long forgotten about any intrigue. It was as though nothing had ever happened.
Liesl leaned back in one of the reading room chairs. Working in Christopher’s office had gone from uncomfortable to untenable, so she had taken to bringing her work out to the public areas of the library. Reading auction catalogs in the reference area, writing the schedule in a study carrel. It made the staff uncomfortable, her constant lurking, but she didn’t care. She didn’t like the feeling of Christopher’s desk against her skin.
She was marking up a Christie’s catalog with a fine-tipped mechanical pencil when President Garber’s shadow fell over her. She recognized him by the chrome bicycle helmet dangling from his hand by its leather strap.
“Liesl,” he said. “Why on earth are you working in here?”
“I’m reading,” she said. “It’s a reading room.”
“You’re responsible for this library, and no one can find you.” He did not speak quietly, and it was a library. The reading room supervisor looked up, trying to catch Liesl’s eye.
“Not so. The staff all know exactly where I am.” She smiled when she said it.
“I expected you to be in your office.”
“If I’d been expecting you, I would have told you otherwise.”
“I didn’t realize I was required to make an appointment.”
The reading room supervisor and the handful of readers were trying their best to pretend to ignore the exchange—necks bent, pencils moving furiously—but the tension was out in the open for all to see.
“I’m responsible for this library. Wouldn’t you hope that a person in my position is keeping busy?”
“I came to take you to lunch, not to suffer one of your moods.”
“All right. Let’s go to lunch.”
John had made pizza the night before. It had sausage from their favorite butcher, rapini, chili oil, and a luscious dough that John made by hand. The leftovers were in the refrigerator of the lunchroom, and she’d been thinking about cold rapini-and-sausage pizza all morning. The day was cold and sunny, and Liesl glanced down at the bicycle helmet often as they made their way outside. It wasn’t clear if she would be expected to jog alongside him while they made their way to the restaurant. It was just absurd enough to be possible. He led her right past the bike racks and around the corner past the zoological building, by which point she knew exactly where they were going. They gave their coats to the ma?tre d’ of the Faculty Club. Garber didn’t wait to be seated. He made his way over to the corner table of the robin’s-egg-blue room. Staff in black coats scurried to bring them warm rolls and cool water.