Chapter Five
It only took a couple of days for Quinn and James to establish a work routine. The time difference between Los Angeles and London meant James was busy in the mornings, leaving Quinn free to answer e-mailed questions and staff the reference desk until he arrived after lunch. Then they would find a table, cover it with photographs, books, and laptops, and renew their research.
Their arrangement was, of course, a great curiosity to everyone who frequented the library. Quinn’s colleagues were both amused by the situation and gracious in covering her usual shifts. Mr. Ackerman winked at Quinn whenever she passed him, and it came as no surprise to Quinn that Virginia was never far away. At first it was irritating, the way Virginia watched her like a sentry on patrol. But when James started calling her Professor Umbridge under his breath, it was much easier to smile whenever they spotted her lurking about. Both Quinn and James were red-faced with giggles the day Virginia prowled the library dressed in pink from head to toe.
Quinn also caught Nicole prairie dogging over the children’s stacks to peer at them. For the first couple of days, her phone was under siege. A constant barrage of texts came through from Nicole wanting to know all the details. Finally, Quinn sent a terse response that there would never be anything to tell since she and James had a working relationship only. And Nicole, apparently sensing she’d touched a nerve, immediately ceased and desisted.
Quinn wasn’t trying to be snippy, but the situation was hard enough without Nicole’s pestering. On the one hand, she was attracted to James and had been from the moment he’d first approached the reference desk. But she was also a professional and needed to act as such. Besides, once he was done working in L.A., he would return to London. So it really was best for her to keep him at a friendly yet professional distance.
She did an admirable job of it too, even though the more time she spent around him, the more her secret crush deepened. They had an easy rapport as they worked together, growing excited when the other unearthed a helpful piece of information and “arguing” over whether a vase was late Ming or early Qing dynasty. She’d never had so much fun at work before.
It could have been a real problem, had James given her any indication he saw her as anything other than a professional collaborator. But all their interactions were focused on research and at the end of every evening, he’d bid her good night and leave the library before she did. It was just as well. It made it easier for her to keep her feelings under wraps.
Pushing her musings aside, Quinn glanced over at the reference desk. It was pretty dead around the library. Apparently, everyone was out Christmas shopping. Ed looked more than a little bored as he sat at the desk and flipped through a magazine.
Returning her attention to the papers spread out all over the table, Quinn watched James slide a photograph of a marble bust of Plato in front of him and scrutinize the inscription on its base. It jogged loose something that had been lurking in the back of her mind.
“I have a question,” Quinn said. “If we’re doing research to insure all these items now, does that mean they’re not currently insured?”
He answered without looking up. “No, the entire collection is covered by a blanket policy while we’re gathering appraisals for each individual item.”
“And these pictures are part of the documentation for each item?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Do you take the pictures?”
“I do.”
“So why don’t you use an iPad or your computer to display the pictures when we’re doing our research? It’d be easier to zoom in on the detail.”
“It’s what the client wants. I have permission to take pictures and print them out on a printer at his house. The camera and the card in it stay there.”
“Doesn’t he know you could just scan the pictures and have digital copies anyway?”
“I’m sure he does. But if even one of the items that’s part of his collection here in L.A. is somehow leaked, I’ll be unceremoniously sacked.”
“We don’t want that.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Wait!” she said, her eyebrows pulling together. “You just said ‘part of his collection here in L.A.’ There’s more somewhere else?”
James looked over at her. “Yes. This is about a third of it.”
“A third?” Her voice rose in pitch. “Are the other items in England?”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s best not to have an entire collection in one place in case some kind of disaster happens, like a fire or flood. The rest of the collection is split between his place in London and his estate in Northamptonshire.”
“You already inventoried his collection in England?”
“No, not me. One of my colleagues, Ben, is doing that while I’m here.” His head jerked up. “Which reminds me. Ben wants to talk to you.”
“He wants to talk to me? Why?”
“He knows I’ve been working with you and I’ve told him how good you are at digging up information on the most obscure objects. He’s got an item he could use your help with.”
“Oh, sure. Okay.” Her eyebrows pulled together in question. “Why doesn’t he just shoot me an e-mail like the masses that send me questions over the Internet while they’re still in their pajamas?”
He gave her a roguish smile. “Better than them not wearing any pajamas at all.”
“Ew!” Quinn said quietly and shoved his shoulder. “There’s an image I could do without. You got any brain bleach?”
“Sorry, no.”
She looked at him side-eyed. From the curl of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth, she knew James wasn’t sorry in the least.
“He could just e-mail I guess, but Ben said he wants to meet you.”
“Okay. I guess it could be fun to meet one of your colleagues.”
“Brilliant. Let’s see.” James glanced down at his watch. “It’s a little after seven in the evening in England. I’ll text him to see if he’s available to video chat with us.”
While James sent Ben a message on his phone, Quinn surreptitiously scanned the area for Virginia. Sure enough, she was shooting them furtive glances from the audiovisual department. She was also wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater Quinn had ever seen. Actual jingle bells were sewn onto Rudolph’s harness and Santa’s suit was adorned with red sequins and white faux fur trim. Why the sweater’s designer didn’t include a working red lightbulb to make the reindeer’s nose glow, Quinn couldn’t understand.
“We can’t talk to him here. Virginia will flip if we’re too loud.”
“Afraid you’ll be blackballed from the secret librarian cabal if shushed by another member?” That crooked smile of his just about did her in.
“Oh yeah. We’re a ruthless bunch.”
“Clearly.” James’s phone buzzed. “Ben’s not available right now, but will be in around an hour. Why don’t we go have lunch at the deli across the street and then talk to him from there?”
Quinn was already gathering her things. “Sounds like a plan.”
* * *
An hour later, James and Quinn sat at a corner table at In A Pickle where they had just finished lunch. Quinn gave a tentative smile to the man looking back at her from the screen of James’s open laptop. Ben Baker was fortyish with brown hair and gray eyes that twinkled with mischief. She had a feeling she was going to like him.
“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” Ben said in an accent that was slightly different from James’s. Based on her years of watching Downton Abbey, her guess was Yorkshire, but she didn’t know for sure. “James tells me you’re a wizard at research.”
Her smile was shy. “That’s nice of him to say.”
“He wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. Would you, James?” Ben didn’t wait for an answer and forged ahead. “Quinn, I’ve been working with a handwritten copy of Arnold Schoenberg’s opera Moses und Aron. I’m specifically interested in learning more about a recitative in the second act. I searched WorldCat and found a monograph that should answer my questions. It’s a dissertation and there’s a copy at the UCLA Music Library. If I e-mail James the call number and the information I’m looking for, can you help me?”
“Monograph? WorldCat? You sound like a librarian,” Quinn said.
Ben chuckled and said, “That’s because I am a librarian, though I now use my research skills to make more money in the private sector.”
“Interesting.” Quinn wondered just how much more money he made.
“Thanks for helping James out, by the way. His research abilities are stretched to the limit when he uses Google to find the closest pub.”
James shot Ben a sardonic look. “Thanks for that, mate.” Ben just grinned back at him.
“Give him some credit. I’ve seen him use Google to find gas stations, too.”
“Et tu, Brute?” James said, squinting at her.
First Harry Potter and now Shakespeare. It was as if he had a secret file on her that listed all her favorite things and was sprinkling them into their conversations to make her like him even more. Not that he needed to work at it.
“Just kidding,” she said and bumped James’s shoulder with hers.
Addressing Ben, she said, “I’m glad James isn’t an expert researcher. If he was, he wouldn’t need my help.”
“Fair point,” Ben said with a nod. They chatted for a few more minutes and ended the call with Quinn promising to get the information Ben requested as soon as possible. She couldn’t work out why he wanted to know more about a passage of dialogue in a German opera when he was supposed to be authenticating artifacts. But if he was anything like her, he probably wanted to sate something that had piqued his curiosity.
But why would he be taking time out for a video chat for a purely personal matter? Something didn’t add up.
James closed the laptop and looked at Quinn expectantly. “Ready for our outing?”
“Our? You want to come with me?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It won’t be very exciting. I’ll grab the dissertation off the shelf, skim it until I find what Ben needs, and copy those pages.”
“I’ve never been to UCLA. I’d like to see it. I hear it’s beautiful.”
“I’m biased, but yeah, it is.” She was secretly thrilled at the idea of showing him around her alma mater.
“Also, I can take pictures of the pages on my phone and text them to Ben. That way he can see them right away. If it’s not exactly what he needs, we can keep looking.”
“Okay. That’s a great idea.” She picked her purse up from the floor. “Westwood, here we come.”