Bachelor's Puzzle
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Ginger Chambers
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CHAPTER ONE
ELISE FERGUSON BRUSHED her fingertips through her short pale hair, smoothing it at the same time as she tried to fluff it. The perm she had gotten a few months ago was already loosening and she knew that soon she would have to get another. But right now she just didn’t have the time to think about it.
She leaned forward, peering closely into the mirror at the fine lines that seemed to have appeared from nowhere over the past few years. Then she moved back, checking whether the hurried makeup job had been sufficient. From a distance, it worked. She didn’t look substantially worse for wear than any other fifty-three-year-old who had just spent a morning in hell. And with the donning of her dress-for-success, reserved-for-meetings suit, she gave the illusion of complete competency. No one would believe that a scant half hour before, dampened through and through, she had raced into the bathroom, streaked with dirt from head to toe, her baby-fine hair sticking out at odd angles and her dress a shambles.
Elise’s stomach gave a nervous rumble. She knew she probably should eat something, but there wasn’t time for that, either. She had to be back at the library in—she checked her watch—five minutes. Five minutes! Impossible!
She reached for a bottle of her favorite scent and misted a light bouquet of spring flowers over herself. Then, grabbing a pair of tiny gold studs, she slipped them into her ears as she hurried down the stairs.
“Elise!” Her sister’s voice held a petulant edge. “Elise! I need you to do something for me!”
Elise veered into the living room, where her older sister, Bea, sat before the television set, their fat yellow cat, Buttercup, in her lap.
Bea’s gaze revealed her disapproval. “I asked before you went upstairs, but you didn’t hear me, I suppose. I’d like my wrap! It’s cool in the house today. You left too many windows open.”
It was summer; the temperature outside was in the mid-eighties. Still, Elise didn’t protest. “Would you like me to close them?” she asked.
Bea frowned grumpily. “No, just get my wrap. And the mail. I heard the postman come about an hour ago.”
Elise hurried onto the porch, checked the mailbox and withdrew some bills and a magazine. Bea’s doll collectors’ magazine. That would make her happy. She hurried back inside and delivered the magazine before moving into the kitchen. “I’m just going to warm up leftovers today, Bea,” she called into the next room. “I have a meeting I’m already late for.”
Her sister mumbled something that Elise didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask her to repeat it. Elise popped a bowl of yesterday’s shepherd’s pie into the microwave, arranged a small salad, buttered a piece of wheat bread and sweetened a glass of iced tea. All this she balanced on a serving tray and brought to her sister.
Bea shifted the cat from her lap, all the while grumbling beneath her breath. Finally, she said clearly, “I’m still cool!”
Elise groaned and glanced at her watch. Then she hurried into the bedroom just off the living room to find the wrap. “Here,” she said, spreading the soft material over her sister’s shoulders. “Is there anything else?”
At one time Bea had been beautiful, with silver-blond hair flowing softly to the middle of her back, bright blue eyes that flashed with anticipation and a delicacy of features and build that the two sisters still shared. Now, Bea pulled her hair into an unbecoming knot at the base of her neck, discontent had faded the color of her eyes and bitterness contorted the fragility of her features.
Adjusting her wheelchair to a more comfortable position at the side table, Bea said dismissingly, “No, I wouldn’t dream of asking for anything else. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your meeting.”
Elise suffered a pang of guilt. “It’s with the architect, Bea. The professor who’s going to see if he can help us build the new library. I’d forgotten all about it what with the water leak and everything. Remember when I first came in, I told you that a number of books had gotten wet and that people from all over Tyler had come to help?”
Her sister fixed her with a cool gaze. “You said something, but I didn’t understand. I thought you’d fallen into a mud puddle.”
Elise sighed and rubbed a hand across her brow, a telling gesture that she was unaware of using. “I’ll explain everything this evening, all right? Right now I really have to...”
“Go. I know. You always have to go.”
Elise wanted to scream. She wanted to yell at her sister that she couldn’t help it if she had to hurry off to her job. That if she hadn’t done so for these past thirty years they wouldn’t have eaten very well. There would be no house, no television, no leisurely outings, no subscriptions to doll collectors’ magazines, no vast collection of dolls.... But she kept her tongue, just as she had for all these years, knowing that Bea had reason to be bitter. “Yes, I do,” she agreed. “I’ll try to be home by six-thirty, but if I can’t, I’ll get Josephine to come make your dinner. I’ll let you know.”
Bea picked at the pie with her fork and didn’t say anything, a point Elise didn’t regret as she finally left the house. She was already nervous enough about her meeting with the architectural professor. The stakes were high—as in whether Tyler would continue to have a library and she herself a job!
Elise dashed for her car, a moderately old, tan Ford Escort, and quickly backed out of the drive. In her mind she rehearsed an apology for being late, one she hoped she would be able to deliver with a modicum of dignity.
* * *
THE ALBERTA INGALLS Memorial Library was housed in a spacious home built around the turn of the century. A series of narrow, vertical windows showcased the second-floor exterior, while a large wraparound porch with strong white columns gave character to the first. Over the years, Elise had planned the landscaping herself, encouraging the growth of rich evergreen shrubs along the base of the porch and seasonal flowers in the accompanying wide beds. The grass had a lush green cast, with shade provided by both oak and maple trees.
Normally the scene was placid, inviting patrons to come inside for a leisurely browse, but that was not the image presented today. Elise was forced to bypass the jammed parking spaces in front of the building and add her car to the numerous others crowded end to end along both sides of the street.
The library was a hive of activity. People moved busily inside and out. The front porch, usually reserved for quiet reading, was congested with folding tables. They in turn bore the weight of numerous books that were being set on end and fanned open so that they could begin to dry, even as more books continued to be removed from the water-damaged room within.
Elise gathered her purse from the passenger seat and hurried toward the scene. She was grateful to all the people who had turned out. It seemed as if everyone in town who could help had come when told about the emergency.
As Elise stepped onto the porch, Delia Mayhew, one of the library’s two part-time aids, rushed to greet her. “We’ve gotten almost all the books out now, Elise. We’re down to the Vs on the last shelf!” Delia’s dusky cheeks were flushed a becoming shade of pink and her dark eyes were shining. She had just turned twenty-one and had seldom, if ever, traveled farther than a two-hundred-mile radius from her home. For her, the accident that morning was a cause for genuine excitement.
Alyssa Baron looked up from her work with the wettest books. Elegant, blond and regal of bearing, Alyssa could always be counted upon in times of trouble. As the only daughter of the town’s most influential man, she seemed to feel service to the people of Tyler was her duty. She and her very pregnant daughter, Liza Forrester, were carefully placing sections of paper toweling between individual pages to act as blotting agents. “It’s a good thing the accident happened in the Biography Room,” Alyssa murmured wryly after hearing Delia’s somewhat oddly worded description. “Otherwise we’d have a hard time telling exactly where we were.”
Grinning at her mother’s wry jest, Liza agreed, “Oh, definitely. The Dewey Decimal classification 973.629A just doesn’t have the same ring to it as a V, does it?”
Cliff Forrester, Liza’s husband, came up beside them. “What’s this about V?” he asked, watching as his wife tore off another section of paper towel and placed it between two pages. “You’re not planning names for the baby, are you? What starts with a V? Let’s see: Virgil, Venus...”
Liza tilted her head and gave a devilish smile. “What would you do if I wanted to name our child Venus?”
Cliff smiled slowly and surprised Elise by winking at her. Normally, he was so quiet and self-contained. “Why, I’d agree,” he said. “What else?”
Johnny Kelsey dropped an armload of books onto a table behind Elise. “I’ve talked with Pastor Schoff,” he announced, causing Elise to turn toward him. “We can have the church hall any time we want it. When I get off work this evening, I’ll bring some of the men from the F and M and we can shift all this again.” He motioned to the tables and books scattered along the porch. “That’s still what you want, isn’t it? To get this lot moved inside somewhere?”
Elise met the deep-set gray eyes of the man she’d known since childhood. “If you could do that, Johnny, it would be wonderful. Do I need to speak with Pastor Schoff myself?”
Anna Kelsey arrived just in time to hear Elise’s question. She, too, was delivering an armload of damp books. “Probably should,” she said. “I’m sure he could arrange fresh volunteers for tonight if you ask him.”
“I’ll call right away. Oh!” Elise suddenly looked stricken. Once again she had gotten carried away by the immediate problem and forgotten the more looming threat. “Has anyone seen Professor Fairmont?”
There was a series of shrugs and head shakes. “Not since earlier,” Alyssa said.
“What about Renata?” Elise asked. “She said she’d watch out for him.”
Again Alyssa shook her head.
Elise’s stomach tightened. Robert Fairmont’s reputation was impressive. As a practicing architect, he had won numerous design awards, and his track record as a teacher was impressive, too. A growing number of his former students were beginning to make names for themselves, with many attributing much of their success to him. Had he been insulted that she was late for their appointment, and so had decided to leave?
“Where’s Pauline?” she tried yet again, starting to feel more than a little desperate. Delia pointed to a group of people at the far end of the porch. With a soft murmur, Elise excused herself.
Pauline Martin, the library’s only full-time aid, was a plump woman in her early forties with short, light brown hair and a perpetual expression of amused good cheer. An earth-mother type, she loved working with the children who came to the library, and along with Elise had developed a program that several libraries in other small towns now emulated.
When she saw Elise, Pauline broke into a beaming smile. “You look perfect! Don’t touch a thing! Otherwise you’ll get all dirty again. Have you heard? We can use the hall at Fellowship Lutheran. Pastor Schoff didn’t understand at first why we couldn’t just put the books in another part of the library, but when Johnny told him about the dampness spreading to the rest of the collection, he agreed right away. Just like Johnny understood when you told him earlier. He—”
Elise broke into the ongoing stream. If Pauline were turned loose, they could be standing there for hours. “Pauline, Professor Fairmont—have you seen him?”
Pauline frowned. “Why, yes. Just a little while ago. He was...somewhere.” She scanned the people on the porch. “The last time I saw him, he was by the front steps.”
“Was he leaving?” Elise couldn’t help the note of alarm in her voice.
Pauline frowned in puzzlement. “Why would he leave when he’s come all the way from Milwaukee?”
“I’ll check inside.” Elise hurried through the open double doors that led into the library proper.
A steady stream of people was moving up and down the hall that led to a room at the rear of the library. There, a buildup of water from a leaking pipe had caused a portion of the ceiling to give way. Some people exiting from the hall were heading to the porch with damp volumes. Others had been assigned the task of stacking the numerous books that had managed to remain dry in an area off to one side of the circulation desk.
Elise shivered, remembering the horror of the moment when water had first sprayed everywhere. For a short space of time, her emotions had given way as well as she had tried frantically to rescue the books nearest the disaster.
At the Biography Room’s door, the tall young man next in line stood aside to let Elise enter. He was Ricky Travis, a recent graduate of Tyler High School. “Miss Ferguson,” Ricky said respectfully.
A glimmer of a smile touched Elise’s lips. Ricky was a person it was sometimes hard to like. A typical teenager, he’d had his share of ups and downs over the past year. In particular, he’d had difficulties on the high school football team. Some in town thought him cocky, but Elise knew another side of him. She remembered the little boy who had devoured books on dinosaurs the way other little boys eat cake. The fiercer the dinosaur, the better. Ricky had been able to rattle even the most complicated scientific names off his tongue. Next, he had progressed to adventure tales and finally to science fiction—his current favorite. “Ricky,” she acknowledged softly. She included a couple of Ricky’s friends in her smile and stepped into the chaos of the room.
Even though they had finally managed to cut off the water supply to the library, occasional drops still fell from the raw open wound on the ceiling. Bits of soggy plaster clung to the gaping edges of the hole, while other pieces cluttered the wet floor, mixing with dirt that had collected in the lathing for nearly a hundred years. Elise had tried to clear away the worst of the muck before she went home, sweeping it to one side, but numerous feet trampling through to rescue books hadn’t helped the situation. Several thick cotton towels had been spread as doormats into the hall, in an attempt to keep tracking to a minimum, but their success was debatable.
Josephine Mackie, principal of Tyler High School, waved to Elise from across the room. Elise lifted a hand and started to make her way toward her, all the while murmuring encouragement to those in the process of removing the last of the books as well as those taking down the free-standing shelves.
Several people in the rescue force Elise didn’t recognize, but she was grateful for their willingness to help even if she didn’t know them personally. One man in particular seemed to be enjoying himself. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and smudges of dirt on what once had been a pristine white shirt, he braced one of the metal shelf units so that Patrick Kelsey, Johnny and Anna’s oldest, could loosen the bolts that held it to the next section. Grinning, he said something that made Patrick laugh.
He was an attractive man, probably somewhere in his mid to late fifties, with wavy black hair sprinkled lightly with silver, an olive complexion that made him look as if he had a year-round tan, a capable, active-looking body and a rather rugged set to his features. He glanced up as Elise continued to watch 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 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 protect her. It was a nice feeling; her burdens had somehow been lifted. But the magic didn’t last. The difficulties both she and the town faced could not be ignored for long. She pulled her hands away, severing their connection. Still, what he said about delaying the consultation made sense. With all the people working nearby, she would be divided in her allegiance. She would want to be in both places at once. “All right,” she agreed tightly. “We’ll meet again on Friday.”
“Good,” he said, smiling. Then he stood up.
Elise remained in her chair. She continued to stare at him, completely unaware, for the moment, of what she was doing. Then she, too, got quickly to her feet, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She was a competent woman. People trusted her to do the right thing. They trusted her with the growing minds of their children. She was responsible for every program and every book that came into or went out of the library. She was responsible for budget planning, for equipment purchases, for not indulging in gossip when she was in the perfect job for it. She knew everyone’s tastes, everyone’s interests, and sometimes, it seemed, everyone’s problems. Yet at this moment she felt like a little girl again, off center, off balance. It had to be the day, she told herself. It had to be.
She led him back to the Biography Room, but just outside the door, she paused to say stiltedly, “Don’t feel you have to help any longer. You shouldn’t have been pressed into service in the first place. We have enough people now. There’s no need for you to stay.”
He met her look levelly. “I helped because I wanted to. I love books and old houses. I think I’ll stay a little longer...that is, if it’s all right with you.”
Elise shrugged, trying to maintain some kind of cool facade. “As you wish, Mr.... Professor...”
“Robert,” he suggested. “Just call me Robert. And I’ll call you Elise.”
Elise’s heart jumped when he said her name, a fact that startled her. What was wrong with her? Maybe she should go see Dr. Baron and have another checkup.
“All right,” she murmured, and walking into the damaged room, she headed directly for the safe harbor that was Josephine.
She tried not to notice Robert Fairmont as he worked—that after checking to see if Patrick had further need of him, he started to shift the fallen debris, carrying out the larger pieces of plaster Elise had pushed to one side and disposing of the rest with a dustpan, broom and mop.
Then she tried desperately not to notice that she had noticed.
