“What? Why is everyone asking about him today? Did you and my grandma have a meeting?”

Charlotte laughed. “No! I’m just curious. You’ve seen him for what-three weeks now? I’m curious what you think. He’s quite the mystery around the library, you know.”

“Librarians have vivid imaginations and far too much time on their hands. I think he’s just a historian or something.”

“A really hot, Italian historian with a cute-but not indecipherable-accent,” Charlotte said as she wiggled her eyebrows. “And you’re a gorgeous, single almost-librarian. I see possibilities.”

“You and my grandmother are far too interested in my love life, or lack thereof. But thanks for calling me ‘gorgeous.’”

“You are,” Charlotte sighed. “You have the most perfect skin. I kind of hate you.”

“And you have the perfect husband and two perfect children, so I think you win. Is Jeff enjoying having you home every night?”

Charlotte smiled and nodded. “Yes, all joking aside, thanks for taking the evening hours. It makes a huge difference with the boys involved in so many activities now.”

“No problem. I can always use the cash.”

“Speaking of cash, did I tell you someone very wealthy and very generous just donated a couple of letters from the Italian Renaissance to the library? We should be getting them in the next couple of weeks.”

“Letters? What are they?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Not sure. I haven’t seen them. I guess they’re a couple letters from some Florentine poet to a friend who was a philosopher. Late fifteenth century, supposedly very well-preserved. I should remember the names, but I don’t. They were in some private collection, from what I hear. Honestly, I have no idea why the university is getting them.”

“Huh.” Beatrice frowned. “We have hardly anything from that period. Most of the Italian stuff we have is late medieval.”

“I know,” Charlotte shrugged again, “but they were donated, so no one’s going to complain.”