by Susan Mann
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.
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 sho
oting 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.