The Librarian and the Spy

by Susan Mann

  Soon the cake was deployed to the dining room table and the entire family assembled, including Wyatt, still groggy from his nap. Grandpa took his place of honor behind the cake and the group belted out a raucous and enthusiastic rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Pictures were taken and the candles were blown out. Within five minutes, everyone had a piece of cake and a scoop of ice cream. Quinn could only shake her head in absolute amazement at her mother’s and grandmother’s mad cake cutting and serving skills. Sadly, the hostess gene didn’t seem to have been passed on to her.

  Quinn took her plate and wandered back into the family room. Madison and Monroe sat on the couch and shoved each other as both tried to stab the other’s cake with his fork. She had no intention of ending up with frosting in her hair, so she found an empty spot on the floor on the other side of the room and sat.

  Carrying a yellow plastic dump truck, Wyatt toddled over to Quinn and dropped the toy in front of her with a clunk. He sat on the floor next to it and stared up at her with the same dark brown eyes as his mother and sister. “Truck.”

  “Okay. Let’s play with your truck.” Quinn set her plate on the coffee table and began to load whatever she could find into the hopper: the TV remote, a wadded-up napkin, a rubber ball she’d spotted under a chair, and a pen. She made appropriate engine noises as she crawled across the floor, pushing the truck along. Wyatt’s gaze followed her. When she stopped the vehicle, intoned a high-pitched “Beep, beep, beep,” and lifted the front of the hopper, its contents slid onto the floor in a pile.

  Wyatt bounced and clapped his pudgy hands, squealing with delight. Then he stood and waddled over to Quinn and the truck. He squatted down and began to drop the stuff she’d just dumped out into the hopper again.

  “So, Quinn,” her sister-in-law started from where she sat. “Are you dating anyone?”

  Quinn suppressed a groan. She’d hoped to get through the day without anyone asking her that most despised question, especially since she had nothing to report.

  Isabelle had plucked a nerve, but Quinn loved her and refused to be short with her. She knew the question was in no way malicious. She shrugged and said, “Nope. Not dating anyone.”

  “It’s too bad we live so far away. There are some really great guys at George’s law firm we could set you up with.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. For the first time ever, Quinn was grateful they lived in Seattle. Thankfully, a way out presented itself when she caught a distinctive odor wafting up from Wyatt’s backside. Quinn pointed at the toddler and said, “I think someone needs a change.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” Isabelle stood and scooped her son up into her arms. “Ven aquí, chico hermoso.” As the two headed out of the room, Wyatt waved at Quinn.

  She waved back and said, “See you in a few minutes, buddy.” She watched them go and reflected on what an odd thing it was to be thankful for a loaded diaper.

  * * *

  Quinn and her grandfather sat alone in the dimly lit living room, illumination coming only from a small lamp and the hundreds of colored lights aglow on the Christmas tree. The house was mostly quiet, except for the sounds of a football game emanating from the TV in the family room and Pot Roast, her grandparents’ English bulldog, snoring a few feet away. The lump of a dog rumbled like an idling Harley-Davidson.

  “Thank you again for the new book, angel,” Grandpa said. “I appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have spent money on me. I know how much you struggle to make ends meet.”

  She pulled her legs up and settled deeper into the cushioned chair. “I couldn’t resist getting you the latest Edward Walker novel. And don’t worry about the cost.” She leaned closer to him and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I got the library discount.”

  The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened when he smiled. “Well, no matter how you got it, thank you. And you can borrow it when I’m done.”

  “Thanks. Those novels help me get my adventure fix, even if it is vicariously.”

  “No plans to take a trip to some exotic locale?”

  “No,” she said and heaved a defeated sigh. “I don’t have the money. I’m just glad you and Grandma spend the winters here in San Diego so I can see you. I wouldn’t be able to afford to fly out to Maryland to visit.”

  “I have an idea. It might be difficult, but it will be worth it in the end.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to get a jar and put a five-dollar bill in it every single day. I know trying to save a thousand dollars sounds like an impossible task, but if you do it five dollars at a time, you won’t notice. By the end of a year, you’ll have over eighteen hundred dollars. You could go on a pretty great trip with that much money.”

  Given her tight finances, she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. But it was a great idea and she told her grandfather so. “I’ll do my best, Grandpa.”

  “I know, angel. You always do.”

  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 sa
id 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 tempt
ing 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.