…a photograph printed on the back cover. I’ve pegged the book as having been published around 1955, but the likeness is almost identical to that of Alice!
While Alice is standing that way, a gust of air from the floor register blows her skirt up in the back, exposing her backside—which is bare! :eek:
“Alice!” I say in a low voice, startled. “You aren’t wearing panties!”
She stands normally now and smirks, as she stands close to me. She sets the book on a lower shelf for a minute.
“I’ve been talking with Jeanette,” she says, “and she told me that she knew that the fact that she usually didn’t wear underwear when she went on dates with you, was part of the reason she appealed to you.”
“I confess,” I say. “You’re right about that. I only broke up with her because—”
“I know,” says Alice, “Nate and the cigars. But she remembers you as a very nice person… you never took advantage of her and always treated her nice, the same as you do me.” We embrace. 
“Well, now let’s take up the matter of the book.”
“Shucks!” I say with mock frustration. “Just as it was getting interesting!”
I playfully squeeze one of her breasts. She doesn’t have a bra on, either! :eek:
She squeezes my buttocks. 
Now she picks up the book from the lower shelf. I stand with one arm around her as she opens it.
The title, which is printed in the normal place on a page at the front, is Quonset Tool & Die Quarterly, 1960-1966.
The subtitle reads, “A carefully concealed account of the lives of the Troutdale family, from their emigration from Switzerland until the beginning of World War I.
“Researched and compiled by Elias and Penn Twiggler.”
“Huh!” I chuckle. “I wonder which of them is depicted on the back cover?”
Alice sputters merrily at this. Then she looks through the endpapers and finds no explanation for the photograph on the back cover. There is only a picture credit: “Back cover courtesy Hudson & Lemoyne, Coos Bay, Oregon.”
“Now that’s curious!” I say.
“And one would expect that the woman in the picture would be identified in the book,” Alice says.
“Probably somewhere in the text,” I say. “But I don’t think we have time to wade through that now.”
I glance at a shelf near the library door. I pick up a binder that is labeled, “Library catalog.” I recognize the font as that of Jack Sharp’s ancient manual typewriter.
“We should have looked through this in the first place!” I say as I open the binder to the first section.
Neatly typed is an alphabetic list of all the titles in the Sharps’ library, with appropriate call numbers. All of the titles we seek are listed, including the Polliwog, VaVoom, and Fire Engine volumes.
We gather the volumes, which all seem to be of the same binding, color, and style. But only the Quonset book has a picture on the cover.
“And look at this!” I say. All of the books have the same publisher—McMillan & Atwood, Lodi, California. That rings a bell.”
“Jill and Phoebe,” says Alice, “never told us about their families being in the publishing business—but it seems apropos for two women who work in a university library.”
“Maybe Jill and Phoebe can tell us who that woman is on the back of the Quonset book,” I say, “or whether that’s the same Lemoyne in the picture credit as the one we’ve dealt with.”
“Well, they may know even if they aren’t related to the publishers.”
We sit together thumbing through the books. All of them tell about the Troutdale family, and they mention the Luglios, Red Nicholas, the Morpheus—and the Berry family. At the very end of the Quonset book is a mention of Steinmetz’ Grill, although it doesn’t say anything about the Troutdale family being connected with it.
“Oh, here’s an interesting passage,” says Alice, snuggling close to me. We read:
“Herbert Steinmetz worked out a recipe for turkey gumbo in the restaurant in 1908, using turkey, rice, onions, okra, sausage pieces, and tomatoes, in an ordinary turkey stock. His wife Ida prepared the seasoning, using the same spices, and in the same proportions, as used in Herbert’s Prize Consommé mentioned at the start of Chapter 23.” [!]
“The spices could be the key to Mr. Paulsen’s reaction—and hours—and mine—and Rik’s,” says Alice. “We’d want to find out about the companies that Steinmetz’ Grill buys spices from.”
Now Alice steps over to the door for a moment. It was just closed, not locked, and Alice leaves it unlocked. She takes a canvas book bag from a hook near the door and we put the books in it.
“Now what?” I ask innocently.
She gives me a you-know-damn-well-what-I-want-to-do-now look.
She leads me to a spiral metal staircase at the far corner of the library; I carry the book bag. She deliberately goes up the stairs first, and with a giggle says, “follow me,” knowing I’m getting a nice view… 
She opens a trap door at the top of the stairs and we go up through it into a dark room. “Eloise told me about this passage,” she says. I close the trapdoor. She slides a door open. We have come up into the closet for Bedroom No. 35!
I set the book bag down and slide the door closed.
Alice sets her glasses on the night stand, and slips her dress off, hanging it on a hook. She stands there naked in front of me and opens her arms. “Get that condom,” she says. I comply and set it on the night stand near her glasses.
I embrace her. “Oh, I love you so much, Alice…”
She kisses me happily several times.
I lift the naked Alice onto the bed—that is, she sits on the side of the bed. I’m about to undress, but first I kneel. I clasp her left hand with my right.
And, looking her straight in the eye, I say,
“Alice Terwilliger—will you marry me?”
