The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections(37)

“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.

“Don’t be jealous now,” he said with a wink.

He sprung from his chair and went toward the office door, where he had a book truck with a modern manuscript sitting on it, signaling to her that it was his intention to stay. He took the pages and laid them on the desk in front of Liesl. The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections: Library Treasures Through the Ages, the title read. By Christopher Wolfe and Francis Churchill. It was at least a couple hundred pages. Years of research must have gone into it.

She gently turned the first pages and landed on the first chapter. It was about the Peshawar. She couldn’t recognize the voice as fully belonging to Christopher or Francis. It was the best of both of them. A lively telling of how the manuscript had come to be in the library, written like a mystery, written to keep her turning pages.

“The real reason I came in to bother you.”

“What is this?”

Francis walked around the desk and stood behind her, as if showing her how to swaddle his newborn baby.

“Chris and I,” he said. “We’ve been doing this in the background for years. It’s meant to be our masterpiece. To tell the story of the place through the books that live here.”

“The Peshawar?” asked Liesl.

“A secret favorite of Chris’s.”

“It’s wonderful,” she said. “There’s so much love in it.”

She turned to see the other chapters. Next was on a groundbreaking work of human anatomy from the sixteenth century.

“The Vesalius,” she said with a sigh. “Of course. I used to joke that I wanted to be loved by a man the way Christopher loved the Vesalius.”

“Aren’t you, though?” he said. She didn’t reply.

“It’ll be illustrated,” Francis continued, taking a seat again.

“It would need to be,” said Liesl, “to show off how magnificent those anatomical drawings are.”

“We were waiting for some funding to do the photographs properly.”

“Can I see what’s next?” Liesl said. “Is it the Shakespeare?”

“Indeed it is.”

“I want to abandon my work and sit here and read every word. The writing is delightful, Francis.”

“It’s easy to do with Chris. The way he thinks about and talks about and writes about this collection. I really do think he considers the books to be like his children.”

“There has to be more to the story, hasn’t there?” Liesl said. “I know you two were great friends, but I never saw him as one to collaborate. His work always seemed so solitary.”

“He’s more collaborative than we think. Just private about it.”

“Hard to be collaborative and private all at once.”

“Maybe,” he said. “It was his idea to keep our work quiet.”

“Did he say why?”

“He wanted to work slowly. There will be such a great fuss once it’s published.”

“It will be great for your career, I’m sure you know.”

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. He’s generous in that way without showing it off. A good man. A damn good thing he’s not dealing with the Plantin mess. It would have given him a stroke if he hadn’t already had one.”