Bachelor's Puzzle. Ginger Chambers

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 to her office and ushered him inside. The room was cramped, as were most of the other rooms in the library, both in the public and staff areas. Boxes were stacked on the floor; books and catalogs rested on every available flat surface. Notes fluttered from her small bulletin board. The town had outgrown the facility a number of years ago, far longer than the past two or so years that they had spent planning the new building. Not even continued weeding of books and materials could create enough space for everything and everyone.

      Elise made no apology for the condition of the room. It was something she just couldn’t help. She took a seat behind her work station and nodded toward the empty chair. “Our ability to make coffee is hampered, of course,” she said. “But if you’d care to have some, I’m sure we can find someone who wouldn’t mind...”

      “No need,” he said, folding his length into the proffered chair. His gaze once again searched the room before alighting on Elise. “Actually, I have a proposition to put to you. Why don’t we postpone this meeting for a day or two? Possibly even longer than that. You have your hands full now and I’m in no great hurry. I can wait.”

      Elise had managed to school her face of all emotion, but at his suggestion, she jerked forward, her expression intent. “But we can’t do that!” she cried. “The new library can’t wait! You’ve seen how bad the situation is here. You’ve heard about the roof...and that’s not all! I love this old house. I’ve loved it all the years I’ve worked here and even before, when I came as a child to use it. But we’ve reached the point where we just can’t stay any longer—not with everything like it is. We have to build the new library. Either that or we make the necessary repairs, and I’m afraid that after all the money the town’s already spent on plans and contracts and fees, there won’t be enough money left to... Then we’ll lose everything—buildings, books...”

      She stopped, her throat tightening. He didn’t need to know all that. She didn’t need to tell him.

      After a moment he said, “A day or two won’t matter at this stage. Relax a bit. You can’t build a new library all on your own. That’s why I’m here. To see if I can help.”

      “But...”

      Robert Fairmont, professor of architecture at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee, leaned forward to still the fingers that worked against each other on top of her desk. His smile flashed reassurance. “Relax,” he repeated softly. “In a few days we can talk. Say, on Friday. In the meantime, you can get things under control here, and I’ll go over the plans I have from the firm in greater detail. The time won’t be wasted.”

      As she listened to him speak, Elise felt the tension she had been carrying all day melt away, as if his certainty could