"Haviland," she offered in a whisper.
"Miss Haviland. Could you help me locate it?" He smiled with the slightly curling lips he always wore. Not condescending, she decided—perhaps amused, or even flirtatious.
Gretchen stood flustered for a moment. Patrons were not allowed into the special collections—they were under lock and key. Should she leave the reference desk unattended while she fetched it for him? In the interim, what if another patron had pressing business? A preposterous quandary, Gretchen then told herself. "Of course, Professor," she replied crisply. "Let me bring the key."
The young man laughed then, with a toss of his head so that his black curls flopped into his eyes. He suddenly sighed, with an exaggerated look of defeat, brushing back his hair. "Do I appear so like a professor, Miss Haviland? How did you know?"
It was Gretchen's turn to be amused, and she smiled as she went to Miss Sadie's desk drawer to bring the key. "You have not the air of a student, Professor..." she drew out the word in a manner imitative of his previous query, until he had to break into a wondrous smile.
"Bridwell!" he exclaimed, and rapped four fingernails once upon the desk. "Employed only this year—in the English department."
"Professor Bridwell," she continued, imparting a certain air of coquetry to her words, "your dress is frankly too punctilious for a student; and if I might be so tactless, you seem... more evolved, shall we say."
Having drawn out the key, she beckoned him to follow. They ascended the back staircase—likewise taboo for patrons. All the while Gretchen thought how to exonerate herself should she be caught by one of her superiors while leading a patron—alone—into the inner sanctum. She decided the best approach would be to plead ignorance—"Oh," she could say, "I had no idea that professors were considered ordinary patrons." Would that be sufficient excuse?
The book was easy to find, and Gretchen put herself to no particular difficulty—but nevertheless, Professor Bridwell's thanks were profuse. He consulted the book—which could not leave the library—for an hour or more. On departing he returned the book to the counter. He inclined his head, with the now-familiar flop of his curly hair, and said, "I do hope to have the pleasure again, Miss Haviland."
Gretchen watched from Miss Sadie's desk as he departed through the foyer and down the steps leading out. She closed her eyes for a moment and sat quietly after he had left—simply savoring the moment. A faint scent lingered behind him: a distinctive cologne that left quite a favorable impression on her.