An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [68]
“That’s five, not four. Were you counting the smile?”
“Back off with the fucking details,” he says.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
bibliophishing
MARGARET SAVES ME THE TROUBLE of scheduling a meeting. “The Chief wants to see you before Christmas holidays,” she says when she calls. “How about Friday, the twenty-second? The party’s at three. Are you coming?”
“To the meeting?”
“You have to come to the meeting,” Margaret says. “I meant the party. Edith will be there.”
On the day of the meeting, I arrange the books neatly in my briefcase. I arrive ten minutes early.
“He’s got someone with him. Glass of eggnog while you wait?” Margaret says.
“No thanks.”
“Fruitcake?”
I shake my head.
Margaret abandons the chair behind her desk to sit next to me. She doesn’t stay there for long. The phone has to be answered. “Who’s calling this time of day?” she says. The cakes and treats spread on the credenza need tending. “You can’t leave here today without a doggy bag. Sure you wouldn’t like some eggnog? No harm in relaxing now and then. A small glass? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it...” Her voice trails off as she leaves the room.
I watch his office door. Margaret comes back and hands me a mug. “There’s lots more where that came from.” She sits next to me again. I gaze at his door. She gets up to go to the credenza. If “The Little Drummer Boy” wasn’t playing in the background I might be able to hear what’s happening in his office.
She lays a heavy plate of fruitcake in my lap. “There’s more rum in the cake than in the eggnog. And that’s saying something. Let me fill that up for you. You were thirsty after all.” She leaves the room again. The phone rings. She returns. “They’re calling to remind us about the party. They’ll leave a message if it’s important.” She hands me a fresh mug of eggnog. It tastes smooth.
The Chief’s door opens finally. “Brunet! Merry Christmas!” he says. He gives me a slap on the back just as I’m standing. I burp. The room moves.
“Come on in.” He leads the way. “You know Francis. I don’t need to introduce you.”
Francis nods.
The Chief gets a chair for me. “Take a seat, Carl. Let me get you something to drink.” He calls to Margaret.
Francis and I sit side by side facing the Chief’s desk. Margaret didn’t tell me he’d be at the meeting. I slide my foot along the floor to push my briefcase under his desk. The Chief lays a mug of eggnog in my hand. The briefcase is not at my feet. I remember that I left it in Margaret’s office. I stand up. The room spins so I sit down.
“Are you going to the party this afternoon?” the Chief asks us.
Francis laughs. He moves his chair closer to mine to let the Chief get in behind his desk. “We might as well celebrate,” he says. The room is too warm. My shirt is too tight around the neck.
“A toast to a new year, new projects, new alliances! Merry Christmas,” the Chief says. “That’s it, Carl. Drink up. Time to relax. Staying in town for the holidays?”
I nod.
“Well, here we are,” he says. “And like Francis was saying, we might as well celebrate. Privacy policy’s pretty much passed. First of its kind anywhere in Canada, maybe even the US. Who knows? We’re very proud of our accomplishments.” He raises his mug. “Here’s to Francis Hickey for his dedication and diligence and–”
Francis smiles and shakes his head. “Stop.”
The Chief leans back and swivels slightly, side to side in his chair. “You’re sitting next to a modest man, Carl.” He raises his mug to me. “Francis. Why don’t you lead from here? I want to enjoy my eggnog.” He calls to Margaret for refills.
“I’ll get to the point,” Francis says. “Most intelligent people today recognize the value of protecting personal information. They don’t appreciate people spying on them virtually through a database any more than they would want someone snooping around in their office while they’re not there. I’m sure, Dr. Brunet, you can appreciate the merit of these arguments.