Rhonda rounded the curve into the vital part of the donor event: flattery.
“Tonight, if you feel the same sense of awe I do, have the same appetite for discovery as I do, the same gratitude to those who came before us as I do—if you are prepared to do what you must, then I have no doubt that this library, this university, will continue to be a leader in the preservation and discovery of our shared history. It is true that we in this room will be among the last to share a space with the Peshawar, this delicate object. We will be among the last to see it in person. But we will keep this library’s promise, and as the light goes out on this artifact, on this piece of history that we have worked together to preserve, the sun will rise on the new histories that we will unearth together.”
They liked that. Liesl saw them sit up straighter, saw them make eye contact with one another and give slight nods. Of course they should have access to this disintegrating object that was off-limits to the rest of the world. Given enough champagne, they might toss the fragments of birch bark up into the air and dance in the shards of human history like they were confetti. Rhonda continued.
She told the group that because the contents of the book were well preserved, but not the book itself, that the study of the book and not the contents was the next matter of great importance.
Liesl looked Rhonda in the eyes, and Rhonda gave her a little smile. Liesl should have been expecting the turn, but she’d gotten lost, as captivated as the rest of them by Rhonda’s storytelling even as she was able to see exactly the ways in which Rhonda was working on the crowd. As it turned out, Rhonda had been expecting payment for her time that evening. She finished her story by revealing the book’s greatest mystery: when it had actually been written. If the university was to claim evidence of the first use of zero in mathematics, should they not be able to say when a hand had written that character? There were nods throughout the room. Of course they should. Rhonda leaned all the way over the podium and asked the group if they should go on this journey of discovery together. If they wanted to tell the world for certain about the importance of the Peshawar by telling the world for certain when it was written. She had hypnotized them. There was no answer they could have given but yes.
The suits were generous with their applause. She had won them over. At the cocktail reception after the talk, they were fruit flies on a particularly juicy slice of pineapple. They wanted to know all about her research. They wanted to know all about her background. Liesl wanted to thank her but found Rhonda cornered by Percy, who had now decided that she warranted his attention, and two other suits who both had campus buildings named after them and were taking Rhonda’s temperature as someone who might add a different flavor of prestige to their portfolios.
“Baltimore,” Rhonda said as Liesl joined the group.
“I’ve been there,” said Percy Pickens. “Rough town.”
Rhonda smiled. She had met many Percies.
“Some parts.”
“Your parts?”
Liesl frowned at Percy, he oblivious and flagging a server for a top-up of wine.
“My parents worked in government.”
“What sort of work?”
“State Department.”
Liesl found herself inching toward Rhonda. The group, the suits, the weight of their questions, all designed to make Rhonda a bit smaller, and Liesl imagined that by standing next to her, if they were really shoulder to shoulder, she could make Rhonda bigger than these men.
“They pushed you into maths?” Percy said. “Sensible choice.”
Nodding from the suits.
“Not at all. I didn’t fancy the subject much when I was in grade school.”
“Tell me, Rhonda, what did you fancy?”
Rhonda took a glass of wine from the server who had come to wait on Percy. Smiled. Said thank you. And then returned to Percy’s questioning in her own time.
“I was sure my mother was a spy, so I studied languages so I could be a spy too.”
“Language?”
“Non-Roman alphabets,” she said. “Eventually a teacher explained to me that my talent for those translated to figures.”
He asked her to name the languages. Nodded when she said Greek. Frowned when she said Arabic. Changed the subject when she said Hindi.
“And then I became a librarian.”
“A librarian? But you’re at the university in the sciences.”
“But I was a librarian first.”
“All right,” he said, nodding at the suits. “I can understand your popularity a bit more now that I know your story.”