The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections(20)

“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.”

Rhonda’s claims about her own charm were proven when Liesl totally missed the approach of President Garber.

“Professor Washington,” Garber said. “I see you’ve met the acting director of our great library.” He was suddenly between the women, clutching a small container of trail mix that he had presumably brought from home.

“I have,” she said. “Liesl and I were just talking about some of the treasures in the library’s collection.”

“It grows every year,” Garber said. “We have an extremely passionate network of donors.”

“I’m sure they keep you very busy.”

“Indeed. Liesl, Professor Washington has come to the university to hold the chair of the professor of the public understanding of science. You might recognize her from television or know of her books.”

The last chair had been a white-haired Irish Nobel Prize winner who had held the position for thirty years. Rhonda had severely undersold herself. In a room full of men who were acting as though the paper they had once published in an academic journal read by exactly seventeen people made them groundbreaking. The woman was quietly a mathematician, a librarian, and the holder of one of the university’s most important and public research positions.

Liesl had known that she would have very little understanding of Rhonda’s work, but she had never thought that Rhonda would know so much about her own work. Rhonda, smile still big, hand on her hip, talked rapidly to Garber about her plans for her first year. She had a girlish sort of cheerfulness that belied the confidence with which she was dominating the conversation with the most intimidating person in the room. Amid the gray and blue suits, she wore her yellow hair wrap and a blue cotton A-line skirt. She demanded attention. And why shouldn’t she when what she had to say was so interesting. Liesl wasn’t angry at having her time with Garber interrupted. This woman, this mathematician, this important public figure for the university who had never bothered to mention how important or how public she was. Liesl had never stood a chance.

Rhonda placed her hand on Garber’s trail mix–bearing arm, turned to Liesl, and smiled her big smile.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” she said. “There’s someone else I should introduce myself to.”

“Where is it, Liesl?” Garber whispered once Rhonda had gone.

“You mean you know?” Liesl said.

“Know what?” Garber glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “That you seem to be hiding an extremely important donation?”

“You don’t know,” Liesl said.

A man in his thirties wearing a page from the Brooks Brothers catalog was walking toward them. Liesl turned her back to him, making it clear that they weren’t to be interrupted.

“I’ve also been thinking, and it matters less with this younger crop, but I think we should play up the woman thing.”

“The woman thing?”

He took a handful of trail mix in his mouth, and they were silent as he chewed. Trail mix is not a thing one can just swallow. “It’s important that I get enough protein while I’m training,” he said. “With the donors, I mean. Make the best of a bad situation.”

“How’s that?”

“A lot of these men, they have wives. If we play up the woman thing maybe we can appeal to them, get them out to more events, get them spending.”

“So you think I should…”

“Keep reminding them you’re a woman. Now. Where’s the book?”

“We don’t have it,” Liesl said.

Any last trace of Garber’s public-facing smile died. He looked at Liesl like she was a preschooler who had just wet her pants in front of him. “It’s your second week,” he said. “How, in two weeks, have you not managed to even get a safe open?” He picked a bit of sunflower seed out of a space between his teeth with the nail of his little finger.