Part 12 (1/2)
”Are there perks to this job?” I parried. ”Would you care to outline them?”
”There's a compensation package. We could have a meeting at 9 p.m. this evening to discuss it.”
”That's amenable to me, Dr. Anthony. I follow directions without question.”
”No, I don't think you do, but I have some strict teaching strategies that could improve that.”
I exhaled steam. Kathryn's eye were bright.
”Yes, well,” she said. Kathryn took a notebook from her bag and wrote a few sentences outlining what she wanted from the Irwin College Library Collection Archives and that I was working as her a.s.sistant in this project and should be given access.
”It's very unlikely they'll let you take anything out of the building, but each professor has a lockable shelf compartment. I'm supposed to get the new combination today. You could call me if you think you need it.” Kathryn finished writing and glanced at her watch. ”I'm so sorry. I really have to get going.”
We paid the bill, m.u.f.fled up, and hit the frigid streets of Fenchester yet again. We walked together to the campus. We stopped at the back entrance of the English Department building.
”My meeting's in here,” she said through the soft scarf covering the lower half of her face.
We kissed goodbye, not very effectively through scarves, but her eyes warmed me with a smile that promised much more effective kisses later. I still had to go another block to make it to the library. I immediately missed her, and then my mind wandered to what our date might hold on Friday night and I missed her even more.
Geez you're sweet on that girl, said a voice in my head. So what are you going to do about it?
”What indeed.”
Chapter 9.
”Could you tell me how to get to the archives?” I asked the young man who finally appeared behind the information desk.
”What?”
”Can you tell me how to get to the archives?”
”Which ones?”
”The ones in this building?”
”This building? You mean the library?”
”Yes, the library.” Why does this kind of thing always happen to me at information desks? It's like someone just turned off the universal translator so the person I'm speaking to can't understand my alien language. He looked at me blankly while I considered what to say next. And then I was rescued.
”Good afternoon, Maggie,” Amanda Knightbridge said in her most authoritative tone. ”Mr. Sellers, are you helping Ms. Gale?”
Amanda Knightbridge was wearing a long burgundy wool skirt, a heavy pullover sweater, and an imposing expression that required compliance. After all, she was the head of one of the largest departments at the College.
”Oh yes... uh, er, Dr. Knightbridge... yes...” He looked back at me. ”What was it you wanted again?”
”I'm Dr. Anthony's research a.s.sistant and...”
”No need for that,” said Amanda briskly. ”I shall escort you to the archives. Please give Ms. Gale an a.s.sistant badge, Mr. Sellers. Maggie, you can check your canvas bag here at the desk. Mr. Sellers will keep it in a locked cabinet and he will give you the key. You may take your shoulder bag with your computer in it, along with you.”
Sellers gently stowed the bag in a locker and gave me the key, then fumbled up a badge. I clipped it on. As Amanda whisked me toward a pair of gla.s.s doors, I thanked her for cutting at least a half hour from my quest.
She stopped briefly by a display of reference materials that was marked 'Irwin Professors' Publications,' and waved her hand over a row. ”Did you know that Kathryn has written a number of books?” she asked. ”Rather an impressive body of work, you must admit.”
I began to say that I knew about Kathryn's books, but when I saw them there all together in a long hard-copy row in real time, I felt a surge of possessive pride. I smiled and nodded.
”So now you are researching the Victoria Snow sculpture. That's the task Kathryn has a.s.signed to her new research a.s.sistant?” Amanda said with amus.e.m.e.nt as we began to walk again.
”Yes, we took the sculpture to Piper Staplehurst at the Museum this morning and she told us there was no record of any of the works Kathryn bought. So Kathryn thought of looking though the papers Victoria Snow left to the College.”
”Ms. Staplehurst confirmed the figures were by Victoria Snow though, did she not?”
”No doubt in her mind. She was shocked by the find. Have you seen any of the Snow papers, Amanda?”
”I do believe she donated everything to Irwin College, including her personal papers, but I'm ashamed to say I haven't reviewed them. I have read the Carbondales' book of course. It tells a bit about Victoria Snow's life. Have you had a chance to look at the book?”
I felt like a kid in fourth grade who'd been called on to give a report on a book I hadn't finished. Luckily I'd at least opened it.
”I read some parts of it this morning. Evangeline certainly was beautiful.”
”Yes, she was. You know, so much in Fenchester can be traced back to the incredible wealth of Merganser Hunterdon. But then I suppose that's true in any town where one person controls most of the money.”
I nodded and added 'Read the Carbondales' book' to my To Do list.
Gla.s.s doors opened into a large s.p.a.ce that held a group of work tables. Beyond them were rows of stacks so long I couldn't see their end. To the right were a few empty gla.s.sed-in research rooms with doors that stood open. Only one of the tables in front of us was strewn with books and the papers from three acid-free archive boxes. A young woman was perched on a stool at the table, her eyes swinging back and forth from a dusty pile of papers to her laptop screen, as though watching a slow game of tennis.
”Now,” said Amanda, ”the archives are quite extensive... In the back of the building there is a separate elevator and stairs that will take you to one of the four other archive floors.”
”There are four more floors like this upstairs?” I asked incredulously.
”Oh no, Maggie, the four floors are underground and to the east. And each of them is much larger than this. The College tour guides say each is over a city block in size, but I'm not sure that's accurate. Nevertheless we start here.” Amanda led me to the information desk. It took several moments for a librarian to come out of a back room to the computer station to talk to us.
”We would like to see the Victoria Willomere Snow papers,” Amanda Knightbridge said to a young librarian.
She peered through thick gla.s.ses and a long fringe of dark hair to see exactly who was speaking, realized who it was, and rapidly tossed her magazine under the desk. ”Oh, Dr. Knightbridge. Uh, yes, of course,” she said whirling toward her computer screen.
The librarian clicked keys and scanned data. After a few minutes, she said plaintively, ”I'm sorry Dr. Knightbridge, but I don't see a file that has that kind of t.i.tle.” She clicked a few more times, then shook her head and said, ”Is there anything else I can get for you?”
”Are you sure there is nothing in the system? Try Fenchester Sculpture, or say... Women Artists,” said Amanda.
”The system is very carefully cross-referenced. If the name Snow was anywhere in the system. Um, I could ask...” She looked over her shoulder toward to an older man who saw Amanda and rapidly joined us.
His name badge read Senior Librarian with the single name CURTIS under the t.i.tle. He looked like a cross between Johnny Depp doing Ichabod Crane and Don Knotts, complete with extra large Adam's apple. Amanda told him what she wanted and he turned immediately to the computer screen and entered all sorts of codes.
After nearly five minutes of rapid key work he gulped and said, ”Dr. Knightbridge, are you sure this is something the library has?”
”Quite sure, Mr. Curtis” said Amanda. ”I happen to know the book on Fenchester history by the Carbondales cites the library's addition of the Snow papers to its collection.”