“Is this a news crew or our internal people?” Liesl whispered as she greeted the woman. “There are some kids dealing Adderall in your stairwell. I don’t want any of these guys getting the idea they’re a journalist.”
“Guys?” Rhonda looked up at the crew. “Can you make sure you take your stuff down through the service elevator? I know the stairs are faster, but they really don’t want you interfering with students coming and going.”
There were nods and mumbles of assent. Slowly, the crew and their lights cleared out.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you as an expert in the collegiate drug trade,” Rhonda said.
“I briefly sent my daughter to a private high school.”
“But you’re not here to bust local amphetamine entrepreneurs?” Rhonda knelt on the floor, picking at the edge of a masking-tape X, a lighting mark that the crew had forgotten to remove.
“I’m not.” Liesl moved to help her but then stopped herself. “Was the crew here for the fundraising campaign launch?”
“Yes, they’re going to run a series on our past Nobel winners. I was asked to speak for the dead ones.” Rhonda managed to lift a corner and began to peel, but it immediately tore. She raised her eyes at Liesl in exasperation.
“I have a favor to ask,” Liesl said. “Sorry to dive right in.”
“Not at all,” Rhonda said. “If you’re interested in what I have to say about dead Nobel prize winners, you can tune into the local news tonight at 7:30.”
“The library has an annual Jackman Memorial Lecture. For our donors. A major event. I was hoping you might come deliver the lecture this year.”
“When is it?”
“It’s a little tight to be honest. The lecture is scheduled for Friday.” Liesl crouched, an unnatural position for a women of her vintage, but towering over someone as you were asking them to do you a favor felt wrong.
“Oh, I see,” Rhonda said, still picking at bits of tape with the nail of her index finger. “I take it that I’m not the library’s first choice. I’m not sure if my feelings should be hurt.”
“I promise they shouldn’t be.”
“Don’t console me too much; it only makes me more suspicious. What is it I’m to be lecturing about?” She crumpled the bits of tape she had managed to remove so far into a satisfying little ball.
“So you’ll do it then?” Liesl asked, standing again before her knees failed her.
“It’s my job to communicate with the public about the university’s research.”
“This is ultimately a fundraising venture.”
“But isn’t everything,” Rhonda said, finally looking up from the tape, “when you look at it closely enough?”
“We were going to be unveiling a new acquisition,” Liesl said.
“I see.” She paused her work on the tape and put her hand to her cheek, likely feeling its soft coolness from the baby wipe. “Liesl, most of your work falls within the realm of the humanities and social sciences. I’m not sure how interesting I’d be to that crowd.”
“You’d be perfect.”
“I’ll bet you said that to the first six people you asked too.”
Liesl nodded, bit her thumbnail for a moment. She knew better than to flatter in this situation.
“There’s been a hiccup, and instead of something new, I thought we might use the Peshawar as the subject of the lecture.”
“Well. You have my attention.”
Liesl really wished that Rhonda would get up off the floor, but she was sitting cross-legged now, craning her neck as though Liesl were a teacher with an acoustic guitar during circle time.
“You said the zero is your area of study…”
“So I can whip up a keynote presentation on seventy-two hours’ notice.”
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Liesl said.
“No, I’m saying I can whip up a keynote presentation on seventy-two hours’ notice.”
“So you’ll do it?” Liesl said. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, but it whooshed out with her relief. Finally, a problem solved. “I can hardly believe my luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Rhonda said, going back to pick at the tape now that the matter was settled. “I’d love to lecture a bunch of moneyed humanists on the vitality of early mathematics.”
“Well, yes. Though it is still a fundraiser.”
“Liesl, you don’t have to worry.”
“I wasn’t.”
“It’s my entire job. To make science sound interesting. I can handle this.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Liesl said. “I’m not sure what I would have done.”
“You can thank me by allowing me some time to work with the manuscript to prepare. Seems a pity to meet for the first time on the wedding night. Is there a day this week I could come by?”
Liesl crossed her arms reflexively, not knowing how serious Rhonda’s request was, not knowing its conditions.
“If it’s no, will you still do it?” Liesl asked.
“Grudgingly, but I suppose I would.”
Liesl thought of her calendar, of the pile of messages on her desk.
“It can’t be this week.”
“May I ask why?”
“Simple logistics,” Liesl said. “I’m away at a book fair for most of the week.”
There was no existing rule that the library director had to supervise the use of the highest-value collections. But Liesl wasn’t taking chances.
“My office will be in touch to confirm the details for the lecture,” Rhonda said.
“Thank you.”
“Enjoy your book fair, Liesl,” Rhonda said as she triumphantly pulled one full line of tape off the floor, dangling it in front of her like a scalp.
“Rhonda?” Liesl said.
“Yes?”
Liesl pressed her hands together in gratitude. “Really, though, thank you.”
***
Liesl returned to the library at noon, shaking off the anxiety of a near disaster, and although he was meant to be presenting materials to a group of undergraduates, Francis was waiting at the door of her office when she returned. “You saw, then,” he said. “No Miriam again today.”
“I did.”
“She was always a bit strange, that one.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Always kind of quiet. I don’t know.”
“It’s a library,” Liesl said. “Everyone’s quiet.”
He came in and sat down.
“Probably run off with a lover.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. “I’m getting quite worried about her.”
He leaned back and put his feet on the desk.
“I’m wondering if I should report her missing,” Liesl said. “Would you put your feet up like that if Christopher were here?”
“Suppose I wouldn’t.”
“Then please do me the courtesy.”
The morning had passed in a blink, and with the day half-over, Liesl’s anxiety about unfinished tasks came back around. Francis picked up on Liesl’s disquiet and lowered his feet to the floor to keep from egging her on, as if a bit of dirt at the edge of the desk were the root of her consternation. Her face clouded with frustration.
“Chris’s desk was always too cluttered with books to fit feet on it,” Francis said. “If it wasn’t, I might have done so.”
“Do you think I should report Miriam?”
He leaned on his armrest and gave a weary sigh. “I don’t.”
“It’s going to be a week soon.”
“Liesl,” he said. “What is it with you and wanting to go to the police?”
She looked over Francis’s shoulder at her open office door, willing Miriam to walk through it. “What is it with you and telling me not to?”
“I’m saving you from your own worst inclinations.”
“Wouldn’t you want someone to call if you were missing?”
Francis was an old man who lived alone. It was an unfair question with unfair implications.
“Have you talked to Vivek?”
“Yes,” Liesl said. “It sounds like they’ve separated or are having a big row.”
He slapped his thigh. “Probably run off with a lover!”
With a little bit of guilt, but only a little, she rolled her eyes at him. “We’re talking about Miriam here.”
“I don’t presume to make assumptions about librarians.”
She put her hand to her cheek to conceal a blush that was creeping up from her neck. “You really don’t think I should tell someone?”
“I don’t. This is between her and Vivek. Don’t embarrass her like this.”
“Off with a lover?” she said, sounding more like an exasperated parent than a concerned manager. Rising from her seat, Liesl signaled to Francis that it was time to go.