Epilogue
The timer clipped to Thomas’s pocket went off, and he silenced the beeping. Then he looked up from the microfilm machine in search of Callie.
They hadn’t worked together as much this past year.
At least twice a week, though, the two of them made sure to ask for the same shifts, and Bridget had proven accommodating.
In part because she knew that Thomas, despite his best efforts, still paid more attention to his beloved fiancée than any of his other colleagues.
Callie was standing behind the desk, pinned there by a line of four harried-looking historical interpreters, their buckled shoes tapping. Her gaze caught his, and she nodded.
He turned to his patron. “I’ll need to keep working on this later today or tomorrow. Could you give me your contact information, and I’ll let you know when the copies are ready?”
Less than a minute later, he was hustling to the desk and checking out three books for a man in a navy waistcoat and rolled-up sleeves. Then helping the next woman, whose ruffle-necked shift had wrinkled in the summer heat, find books on the material history of colonial America.
When the line had disappeared, Callie smiled at him. “Thanks, babe. Can you man the desk alone for a while? I have a question that’ll take some digging.”
He smiled at her. “Off you go.”
She squeezed his arm as she headed for the archives, and he followed her progress across the library.
Hopefully that department was fully staffed today, because otherwise she might have to wait a while.
Which he didn’t mind, but Callie got anxious when she was gone for too long, concerned that her partner on the desk might need her help.
Especially him, because multitasking still wasn’t his bailiwick.
Soon, though, she wouldn’t have to worry about covering for his continued lapses. The archives department had gladly hired him to replace their most recent retiree, so he’d be out of her gorgeous hair within a month.
At least at the library. At their apartment, there was no getting rid of him, and that was precisely what she wanted. Which he knew, because he often asked what she wanted—and because she’d trained herself to discuss any discontents she might have, at home or work.
A scowling patron appeared in front of the desk, tricorn hat tipped back.
“I received a notice that I have an overdue book.” The man seemed to consider this a personal slight against him, entirely caused by Thomas. “But I know I returned it already, so—”
With his usual limited success, Thomas tried to eject Callie from his thoughts and get back to work.
Because, as the past year’s experiences had taught him, such patrons required a lot of effort.
The book, in all likelihood, would not be sitting in the stacks or on the shelving carts.
Tricorn Man would insist angrily that the library had lost it.
And then Tricorn Man would return it within several days, probably via the drop box.
Callie called it the Drop Box of Shame and Regret because of such occasions, as well as its exclusive use by patrons whose cats had urinated on the library’s books.
As always, she was hilarious and acute. A marvel.
He couldn’t wait to marry her and spend two whole, uninterrupted weeks on Renaissance Island with her, sans camera crew, for their honeymoon. But he could hold out three more months. Probably.
Half an hour later, she came bustling back to the desk, that snug suit and fancy bun making her look like the sexiest and most successful CEO on all seven continents.
He abandoned the computer monitor in favor of a better view, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Did you acquire several Fortune 500 companies while you were gone?”
She snorted out a giggle. “Sadly, no, despite my best efforts and most corporate attire. But I got what I needed from the archives.” Her lips still curved, her brown eyes bright with mirth, she gave him a discreet pat on the ass. “You can get going again, babe. Thanks for the backup.”
He reset his timer for another ten-minute stint and returned to the microfilm machine.
And did so thinking, as he always did, that his entire conception of happiness was encompassed in one word and one image.
Callie, and that beam of a smile directed his way.