“Indeed. But all the same we’ve pulled it out. You’ll do it then?”
“You know I hate to miss my weekly appointment with that vile child, but I suppose I’ll have to. Can you tell me why? You all right?”
“The Plantin’s in the safe. The safe is locked. Christopher is the only one with the current combination. So we’re substituting the Peshawar.”
“The donors aren’t going to like that.”
“They might if you make it sound appealing.”
Francis leaned his chair all the way back. He was considering, or negotiating.
“Quite a mess they’ve dragged you into,” he said.
“It’s fine.”
“Is it? I suppose it’s better than being the one with the stroke.”
“That’s a bit cold, Francis. I’m here to help in any way I can. I’m surprised you’re not happy to do the same.”
“Don’t chastise me, Liesl. You’re meant to be asking me a favor.”
She wasn’t, though. Only asking him to do his job. But she kept her tone gentle.
“You know the Peshawar better than anyone. We’re trying to present a picture of a fully functioning library to the donors. It seems simple to me.”
“It’s not to me,” he said. “Chris is my best mate. I don’t like being asked to stand in for him like he’s already dead.”
“That isn’t the intention. You know it isn’t,” Liesl said. She pulled a chair up to Francis’s desk and sat next to him. “I don’t want Christopher’s job. But I want his job to be recognizable to him when he comes back. That means we have to keep things moving in the meantime.”
“Why don’t you ask Max?” Francis said. “He’s always been better than I have at glad-handing the donors.”
“A Catholic priest is not the right tool to get their minds off a missing bible.”
“Former priest,” Francis said. “It’s not as though he’d be wearing his collar.”
Liesl didn’t think that Max had Francis’s compunctions about not stealing Christopher’s job out from under him. But she didn’t say so.
“I want them to feel special, like they’re getting to see something unique. I think you’re the one to do it.”
“And you think the Peshawar is the right book?”
“It’s one of a kind. Fragile. We rarely pull it out. We never let it travel. How many people in the last hundred years have stood in a room with it? I think it’s perfect.”
“Not much to appeal to the eye, though.”
“You’ll sell them on its scarcity.”
“The invention of mathematics,” he said in a booming ringmaster voice.
“You’ll do it then?”
“If you think it’s the best thing for the library, for Christopher, of course. I wouldn’t mind some time with the old book myself. It’s been years.”
“You wrote that article about it just last spring.”
He looked pleased that she remembered.
“With Chris, I did. But we used the photos for our research. Easier to read.”
“Don’t bring that up in your lecture.”
“Yes, Boss,” Francis said with an ironic salute. He went back to his work, and Liesl went back to Christopher’s office to do power poses until the donors arrived.
The donors arrived. When she walked into the reading room, which wasn’t really a reading room but a space that photographed well and was often used for events, she was pleased to see that whoever had ordered the catering had allowed budget for macarons and wine. Both would be useful. Enough wine and a scattering of well-chosen graduate students and she might be able to remove the focus from the books altogether. Percy T. Pickens III, the chair of the library’s advisory board and the donor most responsible for making the acquisition of the Plantin possible, was already in the room. She had hoped to beat him there.
“I hear there’s a problem,” Percy said.
“Is someone getting you a drink?” she asked.
“Listen, Liesl,” he said, leaning against the makeshift bar. “These are big shoes you’re stepping into. The advisory board is here to guide you in any way you need. Some of us have been involved with the library for as long as Chris was. So what’s this problem with the Plantin?”
“There’s no problem with the Plantin.”
“If there’s no problem with the Plantin, then why aren’t I looking at it?”