“I blew out a breath. "Dad, this is a total cluster...um, a mess."He flashed me a wry smile. "I think the word you were about to use is probably the best summation of the current situation.”

“Me?" "Yeah you," he said, giving me a wry smile. "I gave you my number half expecting you would never call, and so when you did . . . why do you think I was so gung ho about driving all the way out here? I wanted to spend time with you.”

“I take a deep breath and put on my best smile. You could sell ice to Eskimos, my dad always says, and looking at this crowd, I think I'm going to have to be quite the salesman.”

“I'm not that hard to get to know, really." He flashed me a quick smile. "But you... I think you've made an art form out of deflection and self-possession.”

“It was very, very early in the morning. You were probably only just awake. Your mother was asleep in the corner. It was an exquisite morning. I was walking along wondering who it could be in a four-in-hand? It was a splendid set of four horses with bells, and in a second you flashed by, and I saw you at the window—you were sitting like this, holding the strings of your cap in both hands, and thinking awfully deeply about something," he said, smiling. "How I should like to know what you were thinking about then! Something important?”

“Do you really think you'd win a PR war against a bunch of committed librarians?' He thought about this, but he knew I was right. The libraries were a treasured institution and so central to everyday life that government and commerce rarely did anything that might upset them.Some say they were more powerful than the military, or, if not, they were certainly quieter. As they say: Don't mess with librarians.Only they use a stronger word than 'mess'...”