“I know it,” John said. “But they know and care plenty about the university’s reputation.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “A reputation that will be damaged if it gets out that we failed to alert police to a major theft.”
“It’s not your call to make, my dear.”
“Have your decades spent in the workforce convinced you of that?”
She regretted it as soon as she said it. Later that evening, when things had cooled down, she went up to his studio where he was working late and offered her apologies. He put his cool palm on her hot cheek and forgave her. Of course he forgave her. She went to bed before he did, knowing for certain that she would contact the police the next day, no matter what anyone said.
6
One of the pink-faced young men approached Liesl and shook her hand with vigor. He was waving a croissant closer to the library’s copy of Shakespeare’s First Folio than she would have liked, but she didn’t snatch it from him and she didn’t steer him away. She nodded. She introduced herself. She answered his questions. He was from the English department. Young men from the English department always treated Liesl like she was their mother. That is, when they noticed her at all. Young men from the English department were often the favorite great-grandsons of oil barons. She looked up at the rows and rows of books above her. There were buildings on campus that were architecturally more impressive than this library, but there was nothing as beautiful. Christopher once said that he wished the building were less beautiful, that people would take it more seriously if it were. Liesl disagreed. She had never been beautiful. She knew that a lack of aesthetic appeal was no way to get yourself taken seriously.
The new young English professor, his head on a swivel, stopped pretending to listen to the woman who reminded him of his mother. President Garber walked into the library reading room. Liesl stopped pretending to act as though the young English professor were listening to her. She broke off midsentence to approach Garber. Before she could get there, before she could walk fifteen feet across the room, she was interrupted by a familiar man. A familiar man who had bags under his eyes and who needed a shave.
“Vivek,” said Liesl. “Miriam didn’t tell me I would see you here.”
“It’s nice to see you, Liesl.”
“Are you in town visiting your wife?”
“Visiting Miriam? You haven’t spoken with her then?”
“About what?”
“It’s not a visit. I’ve been offered a tenure-track position in the history department.”
“So you’re moving back from London?”
“I’ve moved back from London.”
“Vivek, I’m so very happy for you both.”
“It’s nice to be back in the land of coffee drinkers, that’s for certain.”
“This accounts for some of Miriam’s strangeness of late. No wonder she’s been distracted.”
He glanced around as though looking for his wife, who wasn’t in the room.
“Miriam’s been acting strange? How so?”
“It’s probably nothing. Distracted.”
“Can you tell me anyway?”
Liesl described Miriam’s spaciness. Vivek seemed concerned, which made Liesl concerned. She hedged and insisted that she had only been back from her sabbatical for a few days and had spent barely any time with Miriam.
“Can you try to?”
“Try to what? Spend time with her?” Liesl paused. “Is something going on, Vivek? I’ve always liked Miriam a great deal; would you like me to speak with her about something?”
He looked into his coffee cup.
“Just make yourself available to her.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. Miriam will appreciate that.”
“She’s just in the workroom if you want to pop in.”
“Best not for the moment.”
“Going to do your best new-faculty-member mingling instead? The action is usually around the baked goods. You better get to the knishes before the adjunct professors stuff them all in their coat pockets.”
They were interrupted by a tall, striking woman wearing a yellow hair wrap and a giant smile who parked herself in front of Liesl and looked as though she expected to be recognized.
“You must be Liesl Weiss.”
“I am. Have we met?”
“We’ve spoken. I’m Rhonda Washington.”
“Professor Washington. It’s wonderful to put a face to a name. I’m terribly sorry to be rude, but I have to grab President Garber,” Liesl said, trying to slide away. “Can you give me just one moment?”
“He looks busy.”
“I’m not trying to brush you off,” Liesl said. “I promise. But I’ve been trying to get in front of him for days and it’s vital that I do so now.”
“Administration giving the library the slip?” Rhonda said. “Imagine that.”
“You can relate then?”
“I have a past life as a librarian,” Rhonda said. “It was my first graduate degree before mathematics called me back.”
“Well,” Liesl said. She looked back at Rhonda, curious, and then again at Garber across the room. “That’s unusual.”
“I didn’t know any mathematicians. But I knew Black women who were librarians,” Rhonda said. Liesl forgot about Garber for a moment and put out her hand to shake Rhonda’s.
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well,” Rhonda said. “I’m hoping I can pressure you into letting me work with the Peshawar now that we’ve met in person and you can tell how charming and responsible I am.”
Liesl laughed, louder than she’d intended.
“That’s a good try,” said Liesl. Garber was still in conversation across the room.
“Tell me what you know about it,” Rhonda said.
“About the Peshawar?” Liesl said. She glanced over at Garber. He was in a crowd by the pastry table, frowning at the refined sugar and simple carbohydrates. “I’m not the expert,” Liesl continued. “But it’s said to note the first use of the zero in mathematics. You know that much, I’m sure. I’m really not an expert.”
“How do you know?” Rhonda said, her smile conspiratorial.
“About the zero? There’s never been an earlier document found.”
“That’s what we think. But really we can’t know how old the manuscript is. We can only guess unless we properly date it.”
“It’s not a guess. We’re using the long-established methods in our field.”
“I know that,” Rhonda said, putting up a hand to indicate she wasn’t making accusations. “And I’m proposing we use more precise methods established by other fields.”
Another glance at Garber. He was chatting with a man whose attire could only make him an environmental scientist.
“I’ve done a little reading on the method you proposed. You’d destroy half the manuscript if you tried it.”
“I wouldn’t put it at risk,” Rhonda said. “I’m interested in the intersection between my science and your art. Not in destroying an artifact for science’s sake.”
“I misjudged you,” Liesl said. “If I’m being honest, I assumed you were a new assistant professor looking to bolster her CV with a big discovery.”
“I’m a mathematician,” Rhonda said, deploying that easy smile again. “I was over the hill when I didn’t have my big breakthrough by twenty-five.”
Liesl laughed. “Is that so? I didn’t know mathematicians were so ageist.”
“I didn’t even start my doctoral work until my midtwenties. I never stood a chance.”
“It seems as though the math department is lucky to have you. Whether you’re past your prime or not.”
“Wouldn’t they be luckier still if we could do some exciting work with the Peshawar?”
Liesl smiled in spite of herself but then stopped and maintained her resistance to the idea.
“Professor Washington,” Liesl said. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m only filling in as the director of this department.”
“So you said,” she said. “I’m not sure what that has to do with my request.”
“What you’re asking,” Liesl said, “would be a departure from established policy. I think that is a decision better made by the department’s real director when he returns from his sick leave.”