Twenty-One
“HOW CAN YOU STAND THE quiet?” Helen whispers.
I look at her. “It’s a library, Helen,” I whisper. “It’s supposed to be quiet.”
“Maybe, but give me a shooting range any day.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head as Gwen brings the one box of Harriet Stirling’s papers to our table.
“Here you go Father, Chief,” she says quietly.
“Thanks, Gwen,” I say.
Gwen nods, then says to Helen, “Sorry, Chief Parr, that I haven’t called you. It’s just—I mean, with classes and working two jobs—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” Helen says with a smile. “It’s an open invitation—though I won’t be available the last week in December and the first week in January.”
Gwen looks perplexed, then her face lights up. “Oh! Of course! You’ll be on your honeymoon. Wow. So—just, so—”
“Gwen!” the resear
