Chapter Four
Quinn typed the search terms into the little box on her computer screen, her fingers flying from key to key like the legs of a water spider skittering across the surface of a pond. The clattering ceased once she hit the enter key with a little more force than was probably necessary. A split second later, the screen filled with the results of her query. Her nose scrunched with disapproval when she skimmed over the list of titles. Fantasy books were definitely not what she was looking for. Partway through the list, she spotted a book that looked promising.
She picked up her mug and sipped the lukewarm tea. When Quinn’s gaze landed on her search terms “flat earth” highlighted in red in the online table of contents, she felt the familiar tingle of excitement she got whenever she found the librarian’s equivalent of a gold nugget. “Bingo,” she whispered and returned the mug to her desk with a clunk.
She switched tabs in her browser and reread the e-mail from a high school student named Cody.
“I have to write a paper about how most people a long time ago didn’t really think the earth was flat after all and my teacher won’t let me use Wikipedia. I don’t know what to do.” His confession made her sad. It pleased her he reached out to the library for help, though.
She scribbled down the title and call number on a scrap of paper, jumped up, and headed for the nonfiction stacks. She skirted past the row of patrons sitting at the library’s computers and walked toward Mr. Ackerman, firmly ensconced in one of the cushy reading chairs. He lowered the newspaper and peered up at her from under bushy eyebrows.
Smiling down at him, she said in a low tone, “Anything exciting happening in the world?”
“Nah. Same old, same old.” He snapped the paper in disgust. “Stupid politicians have their heads so far up their colons they—” He gave her an apologetic look. “Beg your pardon.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “No worries. My dad said almost the exact same thing just yesterday.”
“Your dad sounds like a smart man.” He cocked his head to one side. “How’d the Bruins do last night?”
She hoped his question was conversational and not because the sports page was languishing in the men’s room again. “They won, but just barely. Their best three-point shooter had an off game. Hopefully, he’ll get hot in the next one.”
He nodded and stroked his closely trimmed white beard. “For your sake, I hope he does.”
“You know me well.”
Without warning, a chill raced up her spine. She scanned the area, moving her head just a fraction. There, next to a table that displayed various books on decorating Christmas cookies stood the head honcho and her boss: Virginia Harris, library director. Magnificent in her black pantsuit, crisp canary yellow top, and black shoes that made no sound when she walked, Virginia Harris was as no-nonsense as the severe bob of her white hair.
Quinn’s eyes went round as she glanced at Mr. Ackerman. “I gotta get back to work.” The humor she saw reflected back in his eyes told her he understood everything.
“See you later,” she said as she moved away.
“Yup.” The newspaper rustled and he said in a singsong voice, “Good luck.”
She strode off toward the stacks again, hoping not only to locate the book she sought, but also to find protection from Virginia’s eagle-eyed scrutiny. Along the way, she glanced toward the table where James had sat the week before. She wasn’t angry he’d left without a word. How could she be? He was under no obligation to tell her anything. What she felt was disappointment—due to the unresolved question of the Celtic brooch, of course. When she’d mentioned this to Nicole, her best friend had rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
Quinn ducked into the appropriate aisle, skimmed the call numbers, located the book, and took it from the shelf. On her way back to her desk, she turned the corner at the end of the stacks and pulled up short. Her boss blocked her path.
“Good morning, Virginia.”
“Good morning, Quinn.” The bespectacled woman peered down at her from behind lenses so thick they made her light blue eyes appear much larger and rounder than they actually were. Gollum was the first thing Quinn thought whenever she looked into her boss’s eyes. Fortunately, she had sufficient brain-to-mouth impulse control to keep that little bon mot to herself. “I haven’t received your statistics from yesterday yet.” Virginia’s gaze traveled over Quinn’s jeans. She sniffed with mild disapproval.
Quinn clamped her jaw shut. She was a librarian, but that didn’t mean she had to dress in some horribly shapeless atrocity and wear her hair in a bun. Her male colleagues wore jeans all the time and Virginia never gave them a second glance. Quinn swallowed her frustration and replied, “I’m sorry. I’ll turn them in as soon as I finish what I’m working on right now.”
“See that you do. And be sure to mark you took that book off the shelf,” Virginia ordered. “Statistics are the lifeblood of a public library. It’s how we show the city council we’re important to the community and keep our funding.”
Although Virginia was as prickly as a pineapple, Quinn knew she spoke the truth. With so many people believing every question in the universe could be answered with a simple Google search, the relevance of and need for libraries was being questioned all too frequently. She met Virginia’s eyes with a steady gaze. “You’re absolutely right, Virginia. I always log everything I do, every material I use, and I will make sure to get my report to you before I leave today.”
“Very good,” Virginia said. Quinn detected a nearly indiscernible change in Virginia’s stiff carriage. Apparently satisfied Quinn sufficiently grasped the importance of data collection and was taking it seriously, her boss was now a slightly less tightly coiled spring.
After a beat of awkward silence, Quinn held up the book and wiggled it. “I, um, I need to go answer this e-mail reference question.”
“Yes, of course,” she said with a nod. “Carry on.” Virginia’s sights were now set on some new, fresh horror. She stalked past Quinn, leaving the faint scent of powder and book glue in her wake.
Quinn drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. She’d landed her job at the library two years before—a job any twenty-four-year-old fresh out of library school would envy—and still Virginia Harris intimidated the living crap out of her.
She shook off the residual negative emotion that almost always clung to her after any interaction with her boss, crossed the main reading room, and returned to the Bullpen. When she reached her desk, she flopped into her chair and opened the book to the appropriate chapter.
The words on the page immediately engrossed her. She had just gotten to the part that explained how Washington Irving’s nineteenth-century fictional account of Christopher Columbus setting out to prove the world was round became entrenched as fact in history books, when a voice from the doorway made her jump. She peered around her monitor and saw Rosemary from Reference poking her head through the doorway. “A patron at the desk is asking for you.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Quinn typed a quick response to Cody, informing him she had a book for him and that she’d put it on hold at the reference desk. Virginia’s statistics would have to wait. She rolled her chair back, grabbed Cody’s book, and strode out the door. Her footsteps slowed and the book nearly slipped from her hand when she saw James standing alone at the far end of the reference desk.
Her mouth went dry. When his gaze landed on her, the smile that formed on his face made her stomach flip. She took a deep breath and returned his smile with a tentative one of her own. “Hi” was all she could think to say.
James’s smile never faded as he took her hand and shook it in greeting. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if you were working today, but took the chance and stopped by just in case.”
“Well, here I am,” she answered with an awkward shrug.
“I want to apologize for leaving here without a word. I received an urgent call from my boss and had to return to London immediately. I wanted to tell you, but you were busy,” he tipped his head indicating the desk, “and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
A less than eloquent “Oh” was the only response her suddenly blank mind could form. The way he held her hand in both of his caused the synapses in her brain to completely misfire.
“I just arrived in L.A. late last night and came here first thing.” He dipped his head and looked into her face. “I was hoping you could help me with some more research.”
As though a magician had snapped his fingers, her muddled brain sharpened in an instant. She was a professional. “Of course I can help you.”
But before either of them could say anything else, Virginia charged at them. Quinn was instantly reminded of the children’s book The Story of Ferdinand, the way the woman’s breath whooshed from her nose. Virginia shot a disapproving look at James and grasped Quinn by the elbow. She steered her off to the side and glared at her with Gollum eyes. “Ms. Ellington, I would appreciate it if you and your boyfriend would refrain from conducting your private affairs during business hours. You’re making a spectacle of yourself in front of the patrons.”
Quinn jerked her arm from Virginia’s clutches. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she whispered sharply. “He is a patron. I helped him last week.” Quinn’s fingernails dug into her palms when her hands balled into tight fists. “I’m doing my job.”
Virginia blanched and took a half step back. “I’m sorry. I assumed. The way you two—”
“Yeah, well, don’t.”
From the corner of her eye, Quinn saw James cautiously step toward them. He wore a chagrined look as he shook Virginia’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I seem to have gotten Quinn into a spot of bother, haven’t I? I was here last week and she was so very helpful. I was asking her for additional assistance in finding materials in this fine repository of knowledge.”
Quinn nearly smiled when she detected the subtle way James’s voice had turned smoother and how his British accent became more refined and aristocratic. He studied Virginia and then said with a slight smile, “You have a keen eye for talent if you were the person who hired Quinn.” Apparently, James had decided to launch a full-charm offensive on Virginia.
“It was me and yes, Quinn is one of our best reference librarians,” Virginia gushed. “Her talents were obvious to me the moment I met her.”
Quinn held back a snort. Her boss had never once complimented her in the two years she’d worked there.
“Of course,” Virginia purred, “if you’d like to work with someone who has much more experience, I’m available as well.”
When Quinn heard Virginia utter those words in that suggestive tone, her eyebrows shot up. In her life, she never believed she would observe Virginia Harris, library director, go from overbearing boss to prowling cougar. Ick.
“As tempting as that is . . .” James paused and waited for her to fill in her name.
“Virginia Harris, library director,” she said, her voice coming from deep in her chest.
“As tempting as that is, Virginia,” James continued, “Ms. Ellington is already familiar with my inquiry.”
Quinn died a little inside when she heard him call her “Ms. Ellington.” She hadn’t told him her last name. That meant he’d heard every word Virginia had said, including the word “boyfriend.” Spontaneous human combustion appeared to be the only viable way to escape the humiliation.
“And I’m sure,” James continued, “that you, as library director, are irreplaceable in your other duties.”
Quinn managed to keep from rolling her eyes when Virginia pursed her lips, nodded, and said, “That is so true.”
“I’m glad I had this chance to speak with you because I was hoping, if it’s acceptable to Quinn of course”—he glanced at Quinn and then looked back at Virginia—“that I could use her research expertise on a more permanent basis.” He turned to Quinn and said, “I have a number of items to examine, not just the brooch. Would you be willing to work with me exclusively when I’m here?”
Quinn stared at him. The offer was completely unexpected and the entire situation was rather surreal. But there was no way she was going to pass up a chance to do something fun and different. “I’d love to work with you.”
The library director in Virginia resurfaced. “This is highly irregular. I’m not sure I can approve of such an extraordinary request. I need Quinn to assist other patrons.” Virginia narrowed her eyes at James. “Perhaps if you could reimburse the library for Quinn’s time. I could use the money to staff the reference desk with another librarian while she’s with you.” Quinn could practically see the dollar signs flashing in Virginia’s eyes. “We have a ‘Friends of the Library’ fund.”
From the front pocket of his jeans, James removed a wad of cash secured with a silver money clip. He deftly slid the clip from the bills and flipped them up as he counted. Quinn gaped at the hundred-dollar bills.
When he slipped the clip back on the remaining money, Quinn observed his stash included wider, more colorful notes. Pounds and Euro notes, she noticed.
“I do hope two thousand dollars is sufficient for now,” he said, holding out the cash.
Quinn shot out a hand and pushed the money back against his chest. She turned to Virginia and said, “I want confirmation. When Mr.—” She stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry, I only know you as James.”
“Lockwood.”
She dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned back to Virginia. “When Mr. Lockwood is here at the library, I have permission to assist only him. We can use any and all resources at my disposal for our research.”
“Yes,” Virginia said, eyeing the money.
“And we have total autonomy in conducting the research in any way we see fit.”
“Yes.”
Quinn’s voice was flinty when she added, “And I will suffer no professional repercussions because of this arrangement, and my position here as a reference librarian will not be endangered in any way.”
“No, your job is secure.” Virginia’s eyes flicked to Quinn’s face before they returned to the money in James’s hand.
Quinn looked at James. “Agreed?”
He wore a serious expression, but his eyes twinkled back at her. “Agreed,” he said and held the bills out toward Virginia.
“Agreed,” Virginia said. She snatched the bills from his hand, folded them in half and then half again, and clutched them in her fist. Quinn had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from hissing “My Precioussssss.”
“Brilliant,” James said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Virginia, Ms. Ellington and I have some business to attend to. Is the coffeehouse across the street acceptable for a meeting? My treat.”
She could barely contain her excitement. “Why, yes, Mr. Lockwood, I believe it would be a lovely place for a meeting. Let me get my coat.” She hurried to the Bullpen, grabbed her jacket, and slipped it on as she made her way to the door. As she walked she saw Mr. Ackerman grinning. She smiled and winked at him. He saluted her with a surreptitious thumbs-up.
Quinn rejoined James and the two strode side by side toward the front of the library. As they walked past the children’s section, Quinn caught a glimpse of Nicole sitting on a tiny chair and holding up a picture book she was reading to a group of little ones sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. Nicole glanced up and did a double take worthy of any TV sitcom as she watched them pass by. Quinn gave it five minutes before her phone would start to buzz. It took two.
* * *
Hipster indie music filled the inside of the coffeehouse, where people tapping away at their laptops occupied the majority of the tables. Quinn lifted a large green ceramic cup to her lips and blew across the surface of her hot chocolate before sipping it. “My boss just pimped me out for two thousand dollars.”
James’s face twisted like he’d just been socked in the stomach. “It sounds dreadful when you say it that way. Please know I never intended to offend you. If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll go away and never bother you again.”
“No!” she said a little too loudly. Moderating her voice, she started again. “No, you’re not bothering me and I haven’t changed my mind. I just had no idea Virginia was so mercenary.”
He relaxed against the back of his chair and crossed one long leg over the other under the table they shared. He sipped his coffee and said with a slight smile, “She’s a bit like Gollum with the One Ring, isn’t she?”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “Oh my God! I thought the exact same thing. It’s the gigantic eyes behind the thick lenses, right?”
“It is.” The sunlight streaming into the café made his eyes a lighter shade of blue.
“I guess that’s why I feel like she’s always watching me.” Quinn shivered. “She’s really intimidating.”
James shook his head. “I find that hard to believe. From what I saw, you are the force to be reckoned with, not her.”
“I’ve never thought of myself as intimidating at all. I’m not big enough to be scary.”
“Size has nothing to do with it.”
She was about to make what was probably a too lewd quip, given their brand-new acquaintance, when her phone buzzed for the tenth time in the last two minutes.
“I think you’d better answer. That person seems pretty insistent.”
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Sorry.” She took her phone from her pocket and furiously jabbed at the screen under the table. In no uncertain terms, she warned Nicole that if she didn’t stop, there’d be a details embargo.
“Boyfriend? Roommate?”
Quinn shifted forward in her seat and returned the phone to its pocket. “No, best friend with boundary issues.” When he cocked his head in an unspoken question, she crooked up an eyebrow. “She doesn’t have any.” She smiled when he laughed at her joke. “And the guy I live with doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“No cell phone? That’s surprising.”
“It’s just as well. If he had one, he’d be texting me all day complaining about the emptiness of his food bowl and the abysmal condition of his litter box.”
“I’m relieved I don’t have to worry about someone misconstruing our business arrangement and ending up with a black eye.” Just before he sipped his coffee, he said, “There’s no need for you to worry since I don’t have one either.”
She knew what he meant, given the way they’d unabashedly flirted with each other. But she also couldn’t ignore the hanging curveball. She didn’t even try to stop the wicked smirk that overtook her face. “A boyfriend?”
He snorted, and by the way he started to cough, he seemed to have sucked half of his coffee into his lungs. He grabbed a napkin, slapped it across his mouth, and hacked into it.
“I’m sorry. Should I get you some water?”
He waved the napkin and croaked, “I’m okay.” After a moment of throat clearing and wiping his watering eyes, he managed to suck in a lungful of air and release it without triggering another coughing fit. “I see I’m going to have to be careful around you.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” she answered with a grin. Nicole would never forgive her if she didn’t seize the opportunity to ascertain his relationship status, so she said, “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I do not have a boyfriend, nor will I ever be interested in having one.” He held up both hands and added, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He smiled when she snickered. “I don’t have a girlfriend, either. Or a wife. Or a fiancée,” he said, adding to the list. “See? I’m already learning to be more precise around you.”
“Nicely done,” she said with a dip of her head.
After a beat, James said, “Why don’t we move on to the business at hand?”
“Sure.” She absently spun her mug. “The truth is I’m a little puzzled why you’ve coughed up so much money for my help. I hardly did anything when you were at the library last week.”
“I saw what you did in such a short time. If your enthusiasm for research is any indication, my money has been well spent.” He leaned back in his chair again and gave her a smug look. “I bet you found the brooch.”
She shrugged. “No, not the exact one.”
“But you found something,” he prompted.
“About when it was made, yeah. I compared its style to similar ones held by the British Museum. My best guess is that it’s eighth or ninth century A.D.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “The designs on the brooch. Did you find any strange markings, ones that seemed out of place?”
“I’m sorry, but you’re confusing me with someone who has an eidetic memory,” she answered. “Which, by the way, is different than my almost superhuman ability to recall worthless bits of trivia.”
He closed his eyes, sat back, and shook his head. “I had the photograph of the brooch with me this entire time.”
“Yup.”
“Well, now that I’m back, photo in hand, we can examine the designs together. But I want to hear more about this gift of yours.”
She huffed a laugh. “My friends would say it’s more of a curse than a gift.”
“I’ll decide that for myself.”
How was she supposed to demonstrate when the way he smiled at her almost made her forget her own name? “It’s not like I can just conjure them up at will.” She stared into her now nearly empty cup and chuckled when a bit of information tucked away in one of the wrinkles in her gray matter escaped. “Because of his belief in the health and nutritional value of chocolate, Thomas Jefferson wrote to John Adams in 1785 saying he believed chocolate would become a more popular drink in America than coffee and tea.”
“Obviously, Mr. Jefferson was wrong.”
“Obviously.” She watched him tip his cup back and finish his drink. “But the queen’s going to strip you of your British citizenship. You’re drinking coffee.”
His lips pursed as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. “She’d never. No self-respecting Brit can choke down that colored water you Yanks call tea.” He paused. “Do you like tea?”
“I do. I drink it every day.”
“And you use those nasty tea bags?”
“Horror of horrors, I do.”
“Tragic,” James said solemnly and shook his head. “After I’ve brewed you a proper cuppa, you’ll never be able to drink that other dreadful stuff again.”
His comment was innocent, but the thought of him brewing tea for her made a squadron of butterflies perform aerial stunts in her stomach. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“It will leave you stunned and amazed,” he replied confidently as he picked up his briefcase and stood.
The butterflies swooped and dive-bombed. That was exactly what she was afraid of.