“She’s not able to do evening shifts anymore. Family reasons, I think. Something about her kids. I’m B, her assistant.” Her voice lacked the twang typical of most Texans, though the flat intonation with only a hint of accent was fairly common among native Houstonians, especially those of younger generations. “She left me notes about what you’ve been working on, so I’m perfectly able to assist you in your research.”

Despite her rather common accent, the girl’s voice held a faint quality which told him at least one of her parents was a native Spanish speaker. Her thick, black hair was pulled into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, and she was dressed in a black button-down shirt and slim skirt. He smiled when he saw the tops of her tall Doc Marten boots almost touching her knees.

“Are you a student?” he asked.

Her chin jutted out in a barely perceptible movement which matched the quick flash of intelligence in her eyes. “I’ve worked here for almost three years. I’m sure doing a quick computer search or fetching a document is well within my abilities, Dr. Vecchio.”

He could feel the smile crawl across his face. “I meant no disrespect…I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Just call me B,” she said, glancing down at some handwritten notes.

From where he was standing, Giovanni could see the familiar scrawl of Mrs. Martin’s handwriting.

“B? As in the second letter of the Latin alphabet?” he asked, walking closer to the desk.

“No, the Etruscan. I’m wild like that,” she muttered and glanced up. “She also put a small note here at the bottom of her instructions regarding you.”

“Yes?” He waited, curious what the librarian thought bore mention to her replacement.

“Hmm, it just reads, ‘He comes in every week. You’re welcome.’” The girl’s eyes ran from his handmade shoes, up his tall figure, finally meeting his startling, blue-green eyes. “Thanks indeed, Char,” she said with a smile.