The Cartographers(60)

Or be hunted, she thought.

“I do,” she smiled. “He would have loved it.”

Swann hugged her again. “I’m so glad. You look lovely.”

“No, I don’t,” she said. She was in the same simple black sheath she’d worn for her father’s funeral, because it was the only black dress she owned. That day it had seemed practical, and she’d had an excuse not to look very put together. Today, and especially compared to the rest of the guests’ stunning attire, she worried she just looked frumpy. She tried not to think about the sharp, perfectly tailored tuxedo Felix was going to show up wearing.

“You always look lovely,” Swann admonished, like a proud, stubborn uncle, and then stepped closer. “Where’s Felix?”

“On his way, I think.”

Swann tried to hide the grin that threatened at the corners of his lips, but Nell saw it.

“Don’t get too excited,” she said, and he clucked his tongue at her. “I mean it. I’m not sure of anything yet.”

“But this is a good start.”

This time, Nell allowed the tiniest of hopeful nods.

Swann’s grin got the better of him at that. “Well, come find me when he does arrive. I haven’t seen him in so long.” He raised his glass. “And thank you for being here tonight.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she said, like she always did. “You know that.”

“We all do,” a familiar voice said, and Nell turned to see the chair of the library approaching. Irene was in an elegant blue silk dress, and the hem fluttered like ripples on a lake as she leaned over to kiss the air just beside Nell’s cheek.

“Hello, Ms. Pérez Montilla,” Nell said, before she could stop herself.

“Nell! For the last time, it’s Irene.” She waved off a few approaching board members, who obediently blended back into the crowd to let them talk. “I’m very glad you’re here.”

“Come find me later, Nell,” Swann said to her. “I have something to give you—a gift, of sorts.”

“A gift?” she asked, surprised.

But Swann just gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze and made an excuse about refilling his drink as he dashed off—to give Irene some privacy to make Nell an offer of employment if the conversation went well, Nell knew.

Here we go, she thought, her pulse racing. It’s now or never.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying the event so far,” Irene said.

“I am. Thank you for the honor,” Nell replied, and realized that this time, she actually meant it. Someone in her family would have their name forever on a collection at the Map Division of the New York Public Library.

“It was the best way I could think of to thank him for a lifetime of passion and service to the library,” Irene said. She leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping, and glanced knowingly at Nell. “Although I do hope to be able to honor a second Young as well.”

Nell’s heart skipped.

This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To let it go and get her job back. Not to beg for more time or to pretend she hadn’t figured anything out yet.

Not to keep investigating.

Before she could stop herself, the words were tumbling out.

“I’ve had a chance to look into some of my father’s things, and . . .”

Irene perked up. “Did you find something, Dr. Young?”

Hearing her title from Irene’s lips thrilled her. It had been so long since anyone had called her that. She was not even sure Humphrey, bless him, remembered she’d earned a doctorate.

“Well . . . ,” Nell faltered.

“Would you like to be in research? Or special collections? Name a position—it’s yours.”

Nell tried to find the words, but she could barely breathe.

Just tell her.

Irene had all but handed her an employment contract. The library was just inches away from her grasp once more.

Tell her and let it go.

“So, what did you find?” Irene asked.

“I—”

But this map had become so much more than that. She still wanted the library—but she wanted her answers more.

“I didn’t find anything,” she finally said.

Irene blinked, surprised. The hopeful expression on her face tumbled. “That’s—that’s a shame,” she managed.

“I’m sorry,” Nell rushed on guiltily. “I really tried, and I can always keep looking, but—”

“No, no,” Irene insisted. She was deeply disappointed, struggling to pull herself back together and find the composed public face she needed to host the event. She’d been counting on Nell even more than she’d realized, Nell could see. “I am so grateful for everything you’ve done already. Really, I should never have asked you for this. It must have been so difficult. I feel terrible.”

“Please, I really did want to help. I just . . . ,” Nell began.

Then, over Irene’s shoulder, she noticed a face that startled her into silence.

Francis Bowden.

After avoiding her so desperately at the funeral, what was he doing here?

“Francis,” Irene said, having turned around to see who Nell was staring at. “I thought you were back at Harvard already.”