“Rion,” she repeated, testing the name. “Unusual. Short for something?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t elaborate.”
“Of course not,” Brenda said, her eyes twinkling. “Why use ten words when two will suffice? Now, when you’re done with yourstructural consultations, we have a small flood in the reference section that needs addressing.”
“A flood? How?—”
“Mr. Perkins knocked over his thermos. Again. Third time this month.”
I sighed. “I’ll get the paper towels.”
By lunchtime, the reference section was mostly dry, the mythological creatures were sorted by cultural region (though still not on the top shelf where they belonged), and I had acquired a surprising array of actual tools from the maintenance closet.
I spread them out on the break room table, examining my bounty: a screwdriver with interchangeable bits, an assortment of screws, a small hammer, and—most exciting of all—a level. I hadn’t even known we had a level.
I snapped a picture and sent it to Rion with the caption:Treasure hunt successful. Now what?
His response came as I was unwrapping my sandwich.
Good. I’ll send detailed instructions. Follow precisely.
So commanding. So terse. It should have been annoying, but instead I found it oddly endearing. There was something refreshing about his directness, his complete lack of social niceties or digital small talk.
True to his word, a minute later my phone buzzed with a lengthy text detailing exactly how to reinforce the ladder’s cross-bracing, complete with suggestions for optimal screw placement and warnings about potential weak points.
I studied it, my sandwich forgotten. The instructions were clear, precise, and written with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about.
You must really know your way around a workshop.
Yes.
I waited, but nothing more came. No elaboration, no personal details offered in return. Just that single, confident affirmation.
I decided to probe a little.So you build things often? Professionally?
A longer pause this time.
I am currently constructing a significant project with complex structural requirements.
Now we were getting somewhere!What kind of project?
Another pause, longer than the last.
A series of interconnected passageways and chambers. The design must be both mathematically sound and aesthetically pleasing.
I blinked at my phone. That sounded… impressive. And vague. A series of interconnected passageways? Was he building some kind of fancy house? A museum installation? An escape room?
Sounds complicated. Are you an architect?
Not exactly. But I understand structure and design.
Again, that confidence. That certainty. No hedging, no self-deprecation, no “well, I’m not formally trained but…”
Well, I’m grateful for your expertise. The ladder fix will have to wait until after closing, but I’ll let you know how it goes.
I sent the message, then impulsively added:What got you interested in building things?
The reply took so long I’d finished my lunch and returned to the circulation desk before it came:
