he’s making a good living at it.’ Trista wrinkled up her nose.
Dulcie thought about the boxes. ‘I don’t know. What with rents being what they are, and the economy . . .’
‘That one? He’ll be fine.’ Trista leaned in. ‘I hear he’s expanding, taking over the entire top floor of the building. I guess maybe that would make him a good catch. Only, there’s something about him. Maybe it’s mold.’
With a laugh, Dulcie downed her coffee. Trista’s gossip did explain the boxes, and maybe he would be a good mate – for Polly. But until either of the interested parties said anything, she’d keep her theories about Polly and the grouchy bookbinder to herself. But while the tutorial had at least engaged her students, it hadn’t helped her with her own nagging question. What if The Ravages of Umbria really was, somehow, not what it seemed? She needed some guidance and if Roger Gosham genuinely did have all the expertise that Professor Bullock seemed to believe he had, maybe he’d be able to shed some light.
Still, Trista’s words carried a warning. If Gosham truly owed his success to Professor Bullock, he’d undoubtedly share any news with his best client. She’d have to find a way to ask without asking. Maybe she could use her connection to Bullock as an entree. She could find a way to run another errand. If she had to, she’d explain to Polly afterward, and apologize if she’d stepped on any toes.
SEVENTEEN
‘ H ey, Lloyd, what can you tell me about Bullock’s rare book collection?’ Ten minutes later, Dulcie was back at the Student Union office.
‘What do you mean?’ The face that looked up at her was more worn than the day before, prompting Dulcie to wonder if her fellow grad student had left the cramped space in the interim.
‘I’m not sure. I’m looking for something that might need some work. Something that just isn’t what it should be. Something off.’ Dulcie noted with alarm that Lloyd had grown paler still. ‘Lloyd, are you okay?’
‘I . . . What do you mean “off,” Dulcie?’ His voice had a tremor in it. ‘Please, tell me what you mean.’
‘Nothing, Lloyd.’ She started poking around in her bag. Raleigh’s warning flashed through her head, but concern for Lloyd trumped gossip. ‘Have you eaten today? I think I have some of the Chips Ahoy left from the other night.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ He shook his head at the offered cookies, which were pretty much crumbs after a few days in Dulcie’s bag. ‘I’m just tired.’
Dulcie sat on the edge of her own desk and nibbled at one of the broken bits. They still tasted good. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just, well, I’ll be honest. I’m having some doubts about the provenance of The Ravages and I thought it might be useful to speak to that book-repair guy, Roger Gosham. And Trista says that he worships the ground that Bullock walks on, so I thought if I arrived on an errand from the professor, well, it would make my life easier.’
Lloyd nodded and took a piece of cookie. ‘Good idea. Gosham’s kind of a legend in the field, I gather. Really picky about what he works on – and who for.’
‘Yeah, I gather he owes his success to Bullock.’ Dulcie’s mind flashed to Polly. Maybe if the professor wasn’t paying so much for rare books, he could afford to give that poor woman a raise. She mentioned that idea to Lloyd, only to have him snort in derision.
‘Bullock? He hoards like some mythical dwarf. If I didn’t have my grants . . .’ He left the sentence unfinished. ‘But why the worries, Dulcie?’
Dulcie chewed and hesitated. Most of her friends knew her background. But Lucy’s special brand of psychic nuttiness had been shared with only a few. ‘Have I ever told you about my mom?’
Lloyd smiled and reached for the cookie bag. ‘The good witch of the Northwest? Yeah. Is this one of her prophecies?’
Dulcie nodded, relieved. ‘I wasn’t sure if I’d told you about her. But,
Dulcie thought about the boxes. ‘I don’t know. What with rents being what they are, and the economy . . .’
‘That one? He’ll be fine.’ Trista leaned in. ‘I hear he’s expanding, taking over the entire top floor of the building. I guess maybe that would make him a good catch. Only, there’s something about him. Maybe it’s mold.’
With a laugh, Dulcie downed her coffee. Trista’s gossip did explain the boxes, and maybe he would be a good mate – for Polly. But until either of the interested parties said anything, she’d keep her theories about Polly and the grouchy bookbinder to herself. But while the tutorial had at least engaged her students, it hadn’t helped her with her own nagging question. What if The Ravages of Umbria really was, somehow, not what it seemed? She needed some guidance and if Roger Gosham genuinely did have all the expertise that Professor Bullock seemed to believe he had, maybe he’d be able to shed some light.
Still, Trista’s words carried a warning. If Gosham truly owed his success to Professor Bullock, he’d undoubtedly share any news with his best client. She’d have to find a way to ask without asking. Maybe she could use her connection to Bullock as an entree. She could find a way to run another errand. If she had to, she’d explain to Polly afterward, and apologize if she’d stepped on any toes.
SEVENTEEN
‘ H ey, Lloyd, what can you tell me about Bullock’s rare book collection?’ Ten minutes later, Dulcie was back at the Student Union office.
‘What do you mean?’ The face that looked up at her was more worn than the day before, prompting Dulcie to wonder if her fellow grad student had left the cramped space in the interim.
‘I’m not sure. I’m looking for something that might need some work. Something that just isn’t what it should be. Something off.’ Dulcie noted with alarm that Lloyd had grown paler still. ‘Lloyd, are you okay?’
‘I . . . What do you mean “off,” Dulcie?’ His voice had a tremor in it. ‘Please, tell me what you mean.’
‘Nothing, Lloyd.’ She started poking around in her bag. Raleigh’s warning flashed through her head, but concern for Lloyd trumped gossip. ‘Have you eaten today? I think I have some of the Chips Ahoy left from the other night.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ He shook his head at the offered cookies, which were pretty much crumbs after a few days in Dulcie’s bag. ‘I’m just tired.’
Dulcie sat on the edge of her own desk and nibbled at one of the broken bits. They still tasted good. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just, well, I’ll be honest. I’m having some doubts about the provenance of The Ravages and I thought it might be useful to speak to that book-repair guy, Roger Gosham. And Trista says that he worships the ground that Bullock walks on, so I thought if I arrived on an errand from the professor, well, it would make my life easier.’
Lloyd nodded and took a piece of cookie. ‘Good idea. Gosham’s kind of a legend in the field, I gather. Really picky about what he works on – and who for.’
‘Yeah, I gather he owes his success to Bullock.’ Dulcie’s mind flashed to Polly. Maybe if the professor wasn’t paying so much for rare books, he could afford to give that poor woman a raise. She mentioned that idea to Lloyd, only to have him snort in derision.
‘Bullock? He hoards like some mythical dwarf. If I didn’t have my grants . . .’ He left the sentence unfinished. ‘But why the worries, Dulcie?’
Dulcie chewed and hesitated. Most of her friends knew her background. But Lucy’s special brand of psychic nuttiness had been shared with only a few. ‘Have I ever told you about my mom?’
Lloyd smiled and reached for the cookie bag. ‘The good witch of the Northwest? Yeah. Is this one of her prophecies?’
Dulcie nodded, relieved. ‘I wasn’t sure if I’d told you about her. But,
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