him, and she was struck by the fact that his eyes were a curious shade of yellow and brown. But it was not so much their unusual color as their expression that unsettled her. Confident, vital and knowingly amused, they lent him the air of a man who could all too easily perceive the foibles and fantasies of the people around him.
Illogically, Elise averted her gaze, afraid that he might see inside of her. A moment later, after castigating herself for being fanciful, she looked back, only to find that his attention had returned to Patrick Kelsey.
Continuing on to Josephine’s side, Elise was perplexed that her heart rate had quickened. It was this horrible day, she told herself firmly. Nothing more than too much stress. She had passed her recent physical exam with flying colors; the only caveat the doctor had given her was to lighten up and not work so hard. Her? Lighten up? With one library literally falling down around her head and a new one whose construction, because of fiscal problems, had ground to a halt with only the foundation work complete? And to top it off, she had now lost the visiting professor, the only person who could help them solve their problem!
Josephine Mackie was almost seven years Elise’s senior, closer to Bea’s age than her own. But that illusionary difference had evaporated over time, and they’d been best friends for more years than either of them cared to think about.
A slender, gray-haired woman with a long thin nose, and pale gray eyes that hid behind round, rimless glasses, Josephine had presided over the high school with an iron hand for almost as many years as Elise had been Tyler’s chief librarian. She demanded that students and teachers alike do their best, holding them to strict guidelines. But she also ruled with fairness and maintained an open-door policy to anyone who had troubles. She had seen a lot and helped a lot, and the sharpness of her expression concealed a tender heart. As head of Tyler’s Friends of the Library organization, she frequently worked with Elise on various projects.
“Don’t look so panicked,” Josephine rebuked her fondly, taking a guess at the cause of Elise’s worried expression. “Everything is under control. The plumber’s on his way, the pipe will be fixed in no time, and then we can get the water turned back on and begin the cleanup.”
“It’s not that,” Elise replied, looking around anxiously. Her gaze skimmed over the man at the shelves before moving on to the other strangers in the room. None of them fit her idea of how a professor of architecture should look. “I’ve really messed things up, Josephine. He’s not here. I think he’s gone home...gone back to Milwaukee. He’ll probably never agree to meet with me again. I’ll have to go to the town council and tell them that I—”
“Elise,” Josephine interrupted her pleasantly. “He’s over there.”
“What? Where?” Elise’s head swung round, trying to follow the direction her friend pointed.
“At the shelves, with Patrick Kelsey. I saw you looking at him just now. I thought you knew.”
Elise closed her eyes. That man was Professor Fairmont, and he had been roped into helping. A man of his stature. “No,” she said weakly. “I didn’t know.”
Josephine rubbed her grimy hands on the rag she had been using to wipe down the shelves. “He’s really quite nice,” she said mildly. “He impressed me. He arrived early for your appointment, saw the mess and didn’t hesitate. He just took off his jacket and dug right in.”
“Oh, God,” Elise breathed.
Josephine looked at her. “What’s the matter? Should I have stopped him?”
Elise shrugged guiltily. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. It’s just...”
“Elise.” Josephine gave her one of the patented principal looks she had been honing on recalcitrant students for years. “Go talk to the man. Apologize. Thank him for helping. It’s all you can do.”
Patrick had succeeded in releasing the final bolt that held the first shelving unit to the next, and as a result, the unit swung free. Immediately, a strong pair of hands compensated for the release of tension, balancing the unit until Ricky and his friends could come forward to relieve the holder of its weight. Then the unit itself was spirited out of the room.
Elise’s nerves fluttered. She’d known what she was going to have to do even before Josephine told her. She drew a deep breath and, after a quick, heartening glance at her friend, closed the distance between herself and the professor.
Robert Fairmont concentrated on his work, watching as Patrick bent to release the initial bolts holding the next unit. Elise stopped just in front of him. The neat crispness of her reserved-for-meetings suit seemed so out of place in the circumstances, her makeup too carefully applied. She was the only person in the library who wasn’t working, who wasn’t sullied.
“Professor Fairmont?” she asked, her voice strained. He looked up and again she was struck by the uniqueness of his eyes. She smiled to cover her nervousness and thrust out a welcoming hand. “I’m Elise Ferguson, the chief librarian here. I’m sorry I wasn’t available to greet you earlier, but as you can see, we’ve had a little accident.”
“This whole place is an accident, if you ask me,” Patrick Kelsey declared, straightening. “When Mom called to tell Pam and me what had happened, we thought it was the roof. Another bad storm and the whole thing could blow off. I’d hate to think of the cleanup then!”
“So would I,” Elise murmured.
Robert Fairmont started to take her hand but paused first to wipe his own along the side of his dark slacks. His touch, when it came, was warm, sure. “This is enough of a calamity, I should think,” he said.
His voice set off a series of alarms along Elise’s already disturbed nerve endings. It was low and soft, the voice of a man who didn’t have to shout to be heard because people automatically listened.
Patrick motioned for someone else to assist him, then said to Elise, “We can take care of this if you two need to talk. I was just telling Robert here how badly we need the new library, then I found out who he was. Sure hope you two can work something out.”
Robert Fairmont’s smile was assured. “We’ll do our best.”
Elise was conscious that he followed closely behind her as she walked out of the room. At a quiet corner in the hall, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry about all of this,” she said. “It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Would you like to talk in my office? It’s just down the hall. It’s dry,” she added as an extra incentive.
An array of lines crinkled the corners of his eyes and the creases in his cheeks deepened when he smiled. His was a strong face, weathered by life and tempered by experience. “Dry has a definite appeal today,” he agreed.
Elise turned away, unsure if he was laughing at her. She decided to take his reply at face value.
“Are the books salvageable?” he asked as he fell into step at her side.
“Hopefully most will be. Even the wettest. Our worst enemy is mold, not water. That’s why we had to get them into circulating air so quickly, so they could start the process of drying. We couldn’t afford to wait. Only the books with coated pages will have to be sent away to a vacuum chamber to be dried—they’ll fuse into hard blocks otherwise. Again, hopefully, there won’t be many of those, because the procedure can be expensive...something we just don’t need right now.”
She unlocked the door
