The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections(27)

“It can,” said Garber. “But not what I expected from Chris. The plan was for him to be back at work in a month.”

“Whose plan?” said Liesl. “You can hardly plan for something like a medical emergency. We can only be patient.”

“I’ll make sure to get that embroidered on a throw pillow.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“That was rude of me. This situation with my injury is bringing out the worst in me.”

Liesl thought the situation was bringing out his authentic self, not his worst one, but she didn’t say so.

“You came to see me this morning, President Garber,” said Liesl, kneading her temples. She was suddenly exhausted. “Tell me how I can help you.”

Garber put the bicycle helmet on the floor and sat, which made Liesl feel as though she had to sit too.

“The Plantin,” he said. “Tell me where we are.”

“We’re looking. Systematically searching the stacks.”

He nodded as if she’d just told him something new. “You had mentioned that was the plan,” Garber said. “What have you found so far?”

The dust in the room looked like snowfall in the morning sun. It was distracting. “We thought the Plantin might have been misshelved when we were trying to clean this office.”

“If that’s something that can happen, then it sounds like a good lead to pursue.”

“It’s one possibility. We haven’t found anything yet. I think enough time has passed that we should start to explore other possibilities.” When she said it, her fatigue grew deeper. She knew how the conversation would end.

“Of course. I agree. You should explore every possible inroad.”

“Including the police,” Liesl looked at the dust, not at Garber. “Including the possibility that the book was stolen.”

“Not this again,” Garber said.

“President Garber.” Liesl tried to sit on the edge of the desk. “Do you really not think a theft is a possibility?”

He leaned over. She thought he was going to put his head in his hands, but he stretched out and touched his toes. “I never said I didn’t think it could be a thief. I said it was up to us to solve this internally.” He gave a quiet grunt as he leaned into the stretch. “We are trying to raise a billion dollars for this university.”

“I’m aware. The library is a big part of the effort.”

The sun had moved behind a cloud, and the dust had disappeared from view.

“It is my full-time job,” Garber said. “And no one will ever give us another penny if they learn we can’t be trusted with their money.”

He picked up the helmet.

“I didn’t ask for this job,” Liesl said.

That was true. But she’d taken it hungrily when offered. She’d sat in the chair and marked up auction catalogs and fantasized about gold calligraphy on blue vellum arriving to join the library’s collection because she had willed it to be so. She hadn’t come right out and asked, true.

“But you accepted it,” said Garber. “And now you’re bound by its expectations.”

Liesl turned away from him and his helmet, back to the window and the slowly falling dust, biting her tongue to fight tears. Expectations. Liesl didn’t want to hear about expectations. But then it figured that President Garber would assume she wouldn’t understand what was required of the big job, just as he assumed that she only ever wanted to work in the background of the big job.

“I’m trying my best.”

“Chris has been the figurehead of this library for decades.” Garber put the helmet on and clipped it under his chin. “We owe this to him. To protect his library while he recuperates. You owe this to him.”

“Christopher and I always worked as a team.”

“Of course you did.”

“President Garber,” she said, walking with him toward the door. “I’ve done much more than just work with books in the years that I’ve been here. I hope you know that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to fill in for Chris if I didn’t.”

To fill in. Garber knew Liesl as the one who could be trusted to sign invoices or arrange caterers, but invoice signers and caterer wranglers had no business in the business of leadership. She heard it all in the words fill in.

“I’m sorry to get emotional. I really am trying my best.”

“You already said that,” said Garber. “You were Chris’s right hand. Everyone knows that.”

“I’m sorry to have kept you. I’ll keep you posted on news about the Plantin.”

“And I with news about Chris’s health,” Garber said. “We’ll be in touch.”

He opened the office door and closed it behind him. Liesl sat again. It was hard to believe that she could be made to feel so small by a grown man in a bicycle helmet.

“That went well then?” Francis strode in without knocking, as Liesl’s hands were busy dabbing the corners of her eyes dry.

“Francis. Were you waiting outside my door?”

“News on Chris?”

Liesl spun back and forth in Christopher’s chair.

“The news is that there’s no news,” she said. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”