“It’s true,” said Hannah. “And if nothing else, they’ll be distracted by my haircut.”
“I’ll be worried you’re bored or annoyed,” said Liesl.
“Never,” said Hannah.
“Go get yourself some noodles. I’ll be home as soon as I can,” Liesl said.
“Noodles without our third musketeer?” said John. He pulled Liesl into a hug. “Imagine that level of betrayal.”
“Dad,” Hannah said. “Mom and I get noodles without you all the time.”
“Well, that’s it,” said John. “Now I’m definitely leaving. It’s like I don’t know either of you anymore.”
“Come on, Mom,” said Hannah. “I know you hate this stuff. Let us stay here so you have a friendly face.”
“I’m fine,” Liesl said. “And I’ll be even better when I know you’re fed.”
“We can eat tiny canapés.”
“And very expensive cookies,” John added.
Liesl stepped away from them toward the door.
“Noodles,” she said. “And I’ll be home soon.”
***
“She can tell you all about Stockholm,” President Garber said. He had not stopped pulling her by the arm to introduce her to fancy people. She took a glass of chardonnay from a passing member of the wait staff. The Nobel winner was already surrounded by five celebrants.
Liesl was introduced, and they gave her a nod. She sipped the chardonnay. She hated chardonnay. Hated the vanilla, hated the oakiness. Chardonnay had been in Christopher’s instructions.
“Tell her what you think of her writing,” Garber said. “No need to be shy. The library has all of your first editions.”
The Nobel winner nodded. Liesl finished her chardonnay.
“Go on. Tell her,” Garber said.
The Nobel winner shook her head and smiled.
“Christopher,” she said. “We’re here to celebrate him, not me.”
Liesl’s estimation of the woman grew. “A toast to Christopher,” she said, flagging a waiter for a refill.
“This library is his monument,” the writer said, looking at President Garber. “Lawrence, don’t you think this library is his monument?”
“Built in his image,” one of the onlookers said.
Liesl rolled her eyes without meaning to, but it didn’t matter as she had gone invisible in this group of important and moneyed people.
“Really,” the writer said. “Imagine this place without Christopher. Without his constant arm-twisting to part us from our papers and our books.”
“And our money!”
“Percy, don’t be crass.”
Predictably, Percy Pickens had joined their circle.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Percy shouted, slurring slightly, attracting attention from the rest of the room.
“Was there more, Percy?” Liesl asked.
The important heads all turned in unison to her. Her invisibility cloak had slipped a bit.
“What’s that, Liesl?” Percy said.
“Percy,” Liesl said. “You said ‘Don’t misunderstand me’ but then never finished your thought.”
“Indeed I did!” he said.
“Well?”
She was sure he wouldn’t regain his train of thought, but she was wrong.
“I loved giving old Chris my money.”
“You’ve been very generous, Percy,” she said.
“I don’t regret a penny I gave Chris. What I regret is this terrible business with the thief.”
During this proclamation, President Garber had managed to slide his way out of the circle. He was well on his way to the other side of the room where he could act oblivious.
Liesl drained her glass.
“Terrible business, that woman,” Percy said.
“Percy, it’s not the time for this,” the Nobel winner said.
“They’ll show up on some black market years from now, the books will,” Percy said. “You mark my words. Of course, we’ll all be dead by then.”
Liesl smiled at the writer, thankful for her help. “Let’s not spoil this,” Liesl said.
Enter Marie. Marie, who had declined to speak at the memorial service as Christopher must have known she would. Marie, who was left out of his instructions. Marie, who was clutching a bottle of water. Marie, who nodded at Liesl but didn’t come over.
Marie attracted her own circle of sycophants. Liesl tried to make eye contact across the room to give a supportive smile but couldn’t quite capture Marie’s attention and then reckoned it was for the best. Max was by her side in a moment proposing a toast, and the circle that had been assembled was immediately busy, filling glasses, raising glasses, clinking glasses. Marie let the group make their toast, but she didn’t take a glass. She clung to her bottle of water. Max held her arm like she was a valuable possession. She let him. It kept her upright. The tragedy of Christopher was all the more tragic with Marie in the room.