“I won’t say no,” Hannah said with a shrug.
Liesl leaned back from the table and dabbed at her hairline with a napkin. Hannah grinned at her mother, who had never had the same stomach for spice as her husband or daughter but who had always insisted she did. From across the restaurant, one of the students gave a laugh that was like a roar, fueled by belly and beer.
“Maybe you should study science,” Liesl said. “Seeing all of those women in the lab. Young women like you. You’d fit in there. They’d probably even like this haircut.”
Hannah had just crammed a tangle of noodles into her mouth and took a moment to slurp before responding.
“Those are serious scientists, Mom,” she said through half-chewed food. “It would take more than a haircut.”
“They’re young like you.” She wished Hannah wouldn’t talk with her mouth full.
“Okay,” she said. “But they are serious about science.”
Liesl took a deep drink of her water and signaled to her server for more. She drained the new glass as soon as it was poured.
The buzzing and laughter from the table of students meant she and Hannah had to raise their voices to hear each other.
“Do you know that all of the people in charge are women?” Liesl said.
“I didn’t,” Hannah said. “But that’s hardly unusual anymore.”
“The head of your department is a man,” Liesl said.
“That’s one example,” Hannah said. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not a scientist.”
“Christopher is a man.”
“But you’re not,” Hannah said. “And you’re in charge. Doesn’t that disprove your point?”
“It might.”
“It might?”
“If I were really in charge,” Liesl said. “Then I agree it would disprove my point.”
“Mom,” Hannah said. “You know I’m not all of a sudden going to become a scientist just because you met some cool lady scientists. Right?”
Liesl thought of her daughter being made to feel unimportant. It made her stomach hurt.
“No,” Liesl said. “Of course not.”
“It’s nice that you were so inspired.”
The server dropped off the bill. Liesl hadn’t seen Hannah signal for it. Hannah’s bowl was empty, but Liesl wasn’t ready to go.
“More jealous than inspired, I think.”
“That’s fair,” Hannah said. “Though I always wondered what would have happened if you had put your name forward to be in a leadership position.”
“Didn’t I?”
“You kept your head down and did the work. It’s not the same.”
“I guess not,” Liesl said. She recognized the line of conversation from lectures she’d given Hannah through the years, about naming your goals and pushing toward them; an illusion dispelled for Liesl by the disappointments of participating in society for sixty years.
“You might have been the type of leader that you always said you wanted.”
Hannah wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and stood to leave.
“Thanks for the noodles, Mom.”
***
Liesl couldn’t get control of the paper in Christopher’s office. She’d been reading it and filing it and shredding it, but every time she opened another box, another drawer, another cupboard, there was more paper. The man had loved to print things. Essential things like the full donor list for the Plantin that she still hadn’t managed to find and trivial things like movie listings from the week of March 15, 2000. Every time she thought she had carved out some cleanliness, there was more aging paper.
“Call for you,” Francis said, poking his head through the door. “Percy on line two.”
Francis played with the buttons on what looked like a new cardigan. Too cozy-looking to fit with his image. She pictured him at the store, trying it on, wondering if it looked nice. She didn’t say anything about it.
“I’ll take it in here,” she said.
“I’ll close the door then.” And he did.
“How can I help you, Mr. Pickens?” Liesl said.
“I think you know, Liesl.”
“It’s been a hard month, Percy. Tell me, what can I do for you?”
“A hard month for me too,” Percy said. “My accountant is getting nervous.”
Liesl stood and stretched her back. She knew what he was after. She knew she couldn’t get it for him.
“A nervous accountant,” Liesl said. “That sounds ominous.”