Oliver opened his mouth to retort only to let it go with a sigh. “Not on purpose and nothing apology worthy. Holbrook was too personal for me, and I was too standoffish for him. I came off as sharp or evasive, but that’s it. Seriously, Gwen, it’s fine. I’m sure by the next meeting, Holbrook and the others will have forgotten about it.”
Gwen held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Morris Holbrook isn’t my first choice either. He’s a little too smarmy for my liking. I still don’t understand how he got therole as committee head over Bennett or Theo Bisclavret since they already made so much headway with a lot of the people who would be coming to the open house.”
“How is their immigrant outreach project going?”
Felipe listened intently as she told them all about the English classes Bennett Reynard and his partner had organized along with the Thanksgiving dinners that had been arranged between the society and the communities they had been working with. As she spoke, Oliver’s notes hovered in front of her, forgotten. He had wanted so badly to be of use and to make Gwen’s life easier, but anything she learned from him, she could hear from Bennett in the library in far less minute detail. He needed to stop thinking about the meeting; it was only making him more antsy. Half-listening, Oliver retrieved the last of that morning’s cream from the mortuary drawer with the broken latch and set to work making their coffees in hopes keeping his hands and brain busy would distract him from the thoughts circling in his head. Even though it wasn’t done percolating yet, Oliver poured them each a cup of coffee and doctored it to their liking. As he carried the cups over, he drew in a tight breath and tried to push back the question that had been knocking at his brain all morning.
The moment Gwen paused to thank him, Oliver blurted, “Why did you miss the meeting? You didn’t say in your note.”
From the way Gwen and Felipe stared up at him, he knew he had put his foot in it again, and the tension that had left Gwen’s features as she talked about Bennett and Theo’s initiatives came flooding back. He hated this. He hated how if he did it once, he was nearly guaranteed to keep doing it for the rest of the day. Forcing down the urge to shake out his hands, Oliver carefully placed Gwen’s coffee down beside her and quickly backed away, but the words tumbled out again before he could stop himself.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I was just worried about you this morning because you usually don’t change plans so suddenly. I thought something bad might have happened to you or one of your sisters. You don’t have to explain yourself. I just—”
“Ol, it’s fine,” Gwen said, attempting to hold his darting gaze. “Mr. Turpin needed to talk to me about something. That’s all.”
“And he couldn’t wait until after the committee meeting?”
Gwen gave him a deadpan look that spoke volumes about the head librarian. Her job as a librarian took precedence over nearly all else; he knew that. “It was important.”
“Mmm, that reminds me.” Felipe winced as he took a sip of hot, black coffee and said, “Turpin wants to speak to you as well.”
Oliver nearly choked on his drink. Felipe hadn’t been out of his sight for more than ten seconds since they got back. How could Turpin have told him that? He craned his neck toward the basket of missives near the pneumatic tubes, but nothing had been added since they left that morning nor had any been left beside it on the bench.
“When did he say that?”
“When I ran into him at the library, probably not long after he spoke to you, Gwen. He said he wanted to talk to you about something important when you had time.”
Oliver’s heart kicked. A meeting had been hanging over his head all morning and he hadn’t even known it. Had he known, he wouldn’t have asked Gwen to come up for lunch. He would have gone directly to the library after they put away John Doe’s corpse. No, he would have gone to talk to Mr. Turpinbeforethey left. That way he could have gone about his day with a clear head. His mind rushed over the possibilities of what the other man could want to speak to him about that was important.He didn’t think he had any books that were past due or any holds that might have arrived. Mr. Turpin didn’t just ask for Oliver, or anyone for that matter, without a good reason. Maybe a new book on necromancy had arrived, and he wanted to give Oliver first crack at reading it. If Turpin had asked after him for something thoughtful or because he did something wrong that he didn’t know about, then he might think Oliver was purposely avoiding him. Oh god, he— Before Oliver could complete that panicked thought, Felipe’s hand gently closed around his arm while the other pulled the coffee from the death grip in his hand.
Holding his gaze, Felipe ran his hands down Oliver’s arms in firm strokes. “Hey, look at me. Turpin said,when you have time. That means it isn’t urgent. He knew we were leaving to deal with the case when he asked after you. He wasn’t expecting you to show up immediately.”
Oliver hated how small and tight his voice sounded when he whispered, “But shouldn’t I go now though? He said when I have time, and I have time right now. He would expect me to come during lunch, wouldn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t go now,” Gwen replied as she skimmed his notes over the rim of her cup. “When I left, Turpin was about to escort someone into the special collections. That means, he’ll probably be unavailable for a few hours. If it’s any consolation, he knew I was coming down to have lunch with you and didn’t look put-out.”
“See? You know he would have told Gwen to send you up first if it was truly urgent.”
“I guess.” Oliver deflated with a sigh. He still didn’t like this sort of ambiguity hanging over his head. “Gwen, do you have any idea what he wants to speak to me about?”
For a split second, a thousand thoughts flickered across her features, but they disappeared beneath a shrug as she took another sip of coffee and flipped to the next page of notes.Felipe’s eyes narrowed on Gwen. So he had noticed it too? Once again, she wasn’t saying something. Before Oliver could press her for what she wasn’t saying, Felipe ushered him onto the nearest stool and handed him back his cup of coffee.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine.” Glancing at the clock and then, at Gwen, Felipe said, “Lunch should have been here by now. I’m going to see if they left it in the hall. Tell Gwen about the case while I’m gone.”
Oliver opened his mouth to protest but was cut off with a kiss. With a final squeeze of his shoulder, Felipe bounded up the stairs in two strides and slipped out. When the outer door squealed open, silence descended over the laboratory as thickly as snow. Oliver kept his eyes on the tile floor to avoid looking at Gwen for fear of what he might say or what he might see in her features. Gwen didn’t deserve to be treated like a puzzle to work out; she had every right to keep her feelings and thoughts to herself no matter how much it bothered him. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he watched as she read his meeting notes. Gwen didn’t seem upset or in need of comfort, yet the distance between them seemed to stretch the longer the silence grew. It felt different than when they sat quietly together.
Oliver’s mind churned through every reason Turpin could want to speak to him that Gwen wouldn’t want to discuss, and none of them were good. He was spiraling. It had been a long day, and even though he knew he was, he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of it. What if the distance between him and Gwen continued to grow until the silence was permanent? She had been his best friend for ten years, and he never wanted to do anything that would take advantage of her patience and kindness. He didn’t want to imagine drifting apart or no longer being best friends who spent their lunches together.
“Gwen,” he said the same time she said, “Do you ever—”
They both stopped and turned to the other. Matching hesitant smiles spread across their lips as Oliver bit back a laugh. It was foolish to think either of them would let their friendship falter after so many years together.
“You go first,” she offered.
“I was just going to ask if you were okay or if I did anything to upset you. I didn’t mean to be invasive before. I really was just worried you were sick or hurt. If I did something wrong or ever do something wrong, please tell me. I’d like to fix it.”
In answer, Oliver’s stool slowly inched toward Gwen. When he lifted his feet, it rolled across the room and came to a gentle stop only a handsbreadth from hers. Bumping her arm into his, Gwen leaned against him with a nearly silent sigh.
“I’m sorry to tell you, you are stuck with me, Oliver Barlow. If you were being a pain, I would tell you. You know I would. I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
