The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections(99)

“The naming rights?” She managed a half smile. “So am I now standing in the Percy Pickens Reading Room?”

“That was my first thought, but no. I did one better. There are plenty of rooms in plenty of buildings that bear my name, but this will be the first named after a man of letters, a man who gave me plenty of laughs and plenty of tax receipts, a great man. Can you guess?”

“No.”

“Oh, be serious now. It’s the Christopher Wolfe Reading Room. A fitting honor for an honorable man.”

Liesl’s half smile was fixed in place. She bobbed her head to some unheard music and then reached her hand out, took Percy’s glass of pinot noir, and downed the remnants in one mighty gulp.

His mouth opened and she could see the tip of his tongue, flexing to find words and failing spectacularly. She handed back the glass.

“He’s right, you know,” she said to Garber. “The wine is rubbish.”

“She drank my wine,” Percy said, to no one and everyone.

“We should let them get started,” Liesl said.

Before Garber could snap his fingers to summon a fresh glass and an ice pack for Percy’s ego, the new chief librarian walked into the reading room. The two women spoke often, but Liesl hadn’t seen her since her retirement.

“Rhonda, congratulations on the exhibition,” Liesl said. “What I’ve seen so far is thrilling.”

“Hello, Professor Washington,” Percy said.

“How nice to see you again, Percy.” Rhonda kept her arm around Liesl’s waist as she greeted the donor. “I see your wine is empty. Is someone bringing you another?”

He looked down at the empty vessel, betrayed by it.

“Now, I hate to be a gossip,” Liesl said. “But what’s this top-secret new research project I’m hearing about?”

Liesl stole a peek at Percy. He was frowning. A rich man doesn’t appreciate being the last to know. Garber frowned because Percy was frowning. Rhonda smiled even wider.

“Not a secret anymore,” Rhonda said. “The grant funding just came through, so I can uncross my fingers.”

Liesl knew about the grant funding. During the changeover, her email address hadn’t been removed from the funder’s notification system. One of a thousand little changes that had to be made, little mistakes that would be found over time. There had been a lot of zeroes on the grant notification.

“The press office has been in touch with me,” Garber said. “For a grant this size they’d like to put out a release.”

“We’re going to be using MRI technology to look at the internal construction of books,” Rhonda explained to the group.

“So that you can diagnose their herniated discs?” Percy said.

He waited for the appreciative rumble of laugher. There was none.

“A CT scan would do that more effectively,” Rhonda said.

“Well, for what then?”

“We’re looking at book construction technology in East Asia and Europe over a period of about five hundred years.”

“Your thesis,” Liesl said, “if I recall correctly, is that the development of European books was heavily influenced by East Asian technology. Isn’t that right?”

The event coordinator walked over and whispered something in Rhonda’s ear. She glanced at her watch and nodded. A moment later, the lights dimmed slightly.

“I need another drink,” said Percy.

“There’s some Scotch at the bar if we ask nicely,” Rhonda said. “Shall I walk you over?”

“I asked earlier, and they said it was just wine.”

“Well, I know the secret password.”

Rhonda led Percy to the bar, leaving Liesl alone with President Garber. In the past she might have used a drink for armor, but now she was glad her hands were free. Across the room, Rhonda walked to the podium and tapped the microphone.

“A nice event,” Liesl said. “You must be pleased.”

“They’re all nice events,” said Garber.

“Interesting research attracts interesting people,” she gestured to the full room. “Some of those people will be the moneyed sort. You must be happy about that.”

“Six months in and donations are already down,” Garber said. He looked at the same full room. Saw something different.

“She just won a million-dollar grant. Surely that offsets things.”

“You can’t form a warm and lasting relationship with a granting agency.”

“So your concern is that she’s not building relationships?”

“It’s part of the job, Liesl,” Garber said, whispering over Rhonda’s speech.

Liesl tilted her head, questioning, and then turned to look at Rhonda, holding the room at attention as if she were a snake charmer.

“Many of the people in this room are here because of their relationships with Rhonda or her work.”

“The wrong kinds of people,” Garber said.

“The wrong kinds?”

“You know what I mean,” Garber said, pursing his lips in frustration. “This has nothing to do with that, obviously. But we need people who will donate.”

Liesl looked around the crowded room. Younger and with fewer charcoal suits than a year earlier. “And ‘these people’ won’t?”