“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, patting my heart.

“Apparently not,” she said as she retrieved the scalpel off the floor and placed it safely on the table. “A bomb could go off and you wouldn’t notice.”

I ignored that, jumped off the high stool and grabbed her in a tight hug. “You’re early, aren’t you?”

She checked her watch. “Actually, I’m right on time, which I suppose is early in your world.”

I smiled, then held up my camera. “Do you mind? I need another few minutes to map and shoot this stuff.”

“Procrastinate all you want. I’m in no hurry.” She pulled off her fuzzy black jacket and fluffed her hair.

“I’m not procrastinating.” I took several close-up shots of the decomposing front foredge, then looked up and caught Robin’s look of profound pity. “What?”

She held up her hands. “I said nothing.”

“I can hear you judging me.” I put the camera down and grabbed a handful of chocolate-swirled caramel kisses, a product I personally considered a miracle of modern technology. I popped a few pieces into my mouth, tried to enjoy the warm burst of flavors, but finally threw my hands up in defeat. “Okay, I’m procrastinating. Can you blame me? I could be walking into a trap tonight.”

She laughed. “We’re going to the library, not sneaking down a dark alley.”

“I know it.” I scowled. Tonight was a private showing of the most important book collection to open at the Covington Library in years. And the man being honored tonight, the man responsible for the restoration of the rare antiquarian books on exhibit, was Abraham Karastovsky, my lifelong teacher and mentor.

And nemesis?

I didn’t know. We hadn’t spoken in six months and I was frankly nervous about seeing him after being estranged for so long.

Six months ago, after years of indecision, I’d finally given Abraham notice that I’d be moving out from under his shadow to start my own business.