Софи Келли - Faux Paw

I didn’t get a chance to call Harrison until quarter to one.

“How are things going with the museum people?” he asked.

I exhaled softly. “Busy.”

“You haven’t coldcocked Margo Walsh with the Encyclopaedia Britannica yet, have you?”

“Of course not,” I retorted. I paused for a moment for effect. “The encyclopedia is all digital now.”

He laughed. “That is a tightly wound woman, Kathleen, but if anyone can deal with her, it’s you.”

“Good to have your vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t expect to hear from you until tonight,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through the phone. “Looks like my daughter was on her horse this morning.”

I turned in my chair so I could look out over the water. “You knew,” I said.

“Course I knew,” he said with a snort. “My children aren’t exactly subtle. I’m guessing Harry came to see you as well.”

“He did.”

“You know, Elizabeth’s just as stubborn as her mother was.”

“She is stubborn,” I agreed. “But the jury’s out on who she got that particular trait from.”

“I’m not stubborn, girl,” he said. “I’m persistent. Big difference.”

This time I was the one who gave a snort of laughter.

“My personal life is none of their damn business,” he grumbled. “You don’t see me meddling in either one of theirs.”

“I’m putting the phone down now,” I said, “because I don’t want to get any kind of a shock through the line when you get hit with a bolt of lightning.”

That made him laugh again. We set a date for tea on Friday afternoon, agreeing to continue the conversation then.

After I said good-bye to Harrison I headed downstairs to see what was going on.

Susan was at the circulation desk, wearing her black cat’s-eye glasses and a big smile. She reached below the counter and handed me a small red picnic cooler. “Marcus left this for you,” she said. “He has a meeting. He said to tell you, ‘Eat.’” She tipped her head to one side and studied me. “I think it’s so cute the way he made you lunch. He even put in a napkin and a little note.” She held up a hand. “I wasn’t snooping. He was giving me instructions on what needs to be reheated and what doesn’t.”

Before I could say anything, Gavin Solomon walked through the main doors. The security consultant smiled and raised a hand when he caught sight of me and started toward the desk.

Having such valuable art in the library meant that we’d needed a temporary upgrade to our security system. Gavin had been hired by the museum. Even though he’d never worked with Margo Walsh before, they seemed sometimes to have a kind of secret code or verbal shorthand that left me confused.

Gavin was handsome and personable, and he flirted, just a little, with every female over the age of fifteen. He had thick red-gold hair and a close-cropped beard. I wasn’t sure if he actually needed his dark-framed glasses or if he just wore them to look more serious.

“Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “I just wanted to check in with you to make sure we’re still on track to do one last check of the alarm system tonight.” He glanced over at Susan and gave her a quick smile.

She beamed back at him.

I nodded. “We’re closing at six. After that the building is all yours.”

“Good.” He looked around. “Is Larry here? He had a couple of questions for me about the wiring for the alarm system.”

“He’s down in the basement,” Susan said.

“Will you be in your office when I’m done?” Gavin gave me an inquiring look.

“I will,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you in a bit.” He headed for the back of the building.

Susan handed the plastic cooler over the counter to me. “Go have lunch,” she instructed. “I told Marcus I would nag you to eat, so go do it.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, and her topknot bounced. It looked as though she’d secured it with a red-and-white straw. I was never quite sure if it was because of Susan’s own absentmindedness that so many odd things ended up stuck in her hair or if it was the twins’ handiwork. “I can get spinach into the boys,” she continued. “Don’t make me show you how I do it!”

Susan’s boys were preschool twins with genius-level IQs and seemingly no fear of, well, anything.

“I’m going,” I said, picking up the cooler and heading toward the stairs.

“Warm up the two square containers,” she called after me.

The two square containers held lasagna and rhubarb crisp. There was also a mason jar of salad, utensils, and the note Susan had mentioned lying on top of a cloth napkin. I poured a cup of coffee and unfolded the piece of paper.

Sorry I couldn’t join you. I miss you.

M

There were no X’s and O’s. That wasn’t Marcus’s style, but that was okay with me. I found the carefully packed lunch romantic enough.

I’d finished eating and was coming out of the lunchroom with another cup of coffee when Gavin Solomon came up the stairs. “Hi,” he said. “Do you have some time for one last run-through of how everything works?”

“I do,” I said, gesturing at my office door. “Come in.”

It took close to an hour for Gavin to walk me, step-by-step, through the complexities of the security measures he’d put in place. We were the only ones, along with Margo, who would have the system’s code, which meant for the ten days of the exhibit I’d have to open up the building and lock up again at night.

“Are you going to be here tonight while we’re testing the system?” Gavin asked. He was leaning forward, using the edge of my desk as a writing surface, his left arm curled around as he wrote.

Both Gavin and Margo expected me to be available pretty much twenty-four hours a day. I’d tried turning off my cell phone a couple of times, but they’d both—at separate times—ended up on my doorstep. I wanted the exhibit to be a success. It could be good for Mayville Heights and it could also be very good for Maggie, Ruby and the other artists from the co-op. Still, the merits of one brand of light bulb over another were hardly an emergency. So I was trying to put my foot down when it came to letting the exhibit eat up all my personal time. But I had given Everett my word that I’d do everything I could to make sure things went well, so sometimes it went down a little firmer than others.

“Do you need me?”

Gavin shrugged. “I’ll call you if we do. I don’t expect any problems, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be a few glitches. I’d rather have everything worked out before the artwork arrives.” He closed the leather folder he’d been writing in and stood up. “I suppose this all seems a bit like overkill to you.”

I got to my feet and walked around the desk. “No,” I said. “I understand that some of the artwork is very old and very valuable.”

He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair where he’d been sitting. “The Weston drawing in particular probably shouldn’t even be out of the museum right now.”

I walked Gavin downstairs and then did a quick look around. Mia was working with Margo, Susan was at the desk, and Abigail was shelving books.

It was busy for a Tuesday and the afternoon passed in a blur. It seemed like every time I sat down at my desk Margo had another question, and I talked to Lita so many times I was glad she was on speed dial. Everyone who had been invited to the opening of the exhibit had RSVP’d with a yes, and both USA Today and National Geographic Traveler were sending writers.

“The reporter from USA Today wants to talk to you as well as Margo,” Lita said.

“Me? Why?” I asked.

“He wants to do a little background piece on the refurbishment of the library.”