Bettie Page Presents: The Librarian Read Free Page B

Bettie Page?” And he’d looked at her kind of funny, as if not sure if she were serious or joking.
    â€œYou know—the legendary pinup model? With the black hair and the short bangs?”
    Regina had nodded, although she had no idea who he was talking about. People sometimes told her she looked like “that girl on that show . . . with the bangs,” or they would snap their fingers and say, “Zooey Deschanel.” She had seen Zooey Deschanel’s sitcom, and while there might have been some resemblance in coloring and haircut and even facial features, the star’s zany effervescence made any further comparison ridiculous, in Regina’s opinion. Now she would have to Google this Bettie Page person.
    â€œIs it truck time?” Alex asked.
    Ever since her first day at work a few weeks ago, Regina and Alex had fallen into the habit of walking out for lunch together to grab a burger or hot dog from the food truck that parked around the corner on Forty-first Street. But today, Regina decided she would try to find Margaret to see if they might have lunch together.
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    She took the South Stairs up one flight, to the fourth floor, which was home to first editions, manuscripts, and letters, and also the Trustees Room. She passed a room that was gated off, and she took notice of it.
    She found Margaret logging a pile of books into a ledger.
    â€œYou do this all by hand?”
    â€œYes. And we have an intern put it into the computer. I can’t be bothered with those machines.”
    â€œI wondered if you wanted to have lunch together. I brought mine, and we could sit outside. . . .”
    Margaret was already shaking her head. “I don’t eat lunch on Tuesdays,” she replied. Regina wasn’t sure what to say to that. Margaret added, “As you get older, you need to sleep less and eat less. You’ll see.”
    â€œOkay, then. Well, I’ll see you later, I guess. Oh, by the way—what’s Room 402?”
    â€œBarnes Collection—visited by special permission. First editions of Virginia Woolf and Charles Dickens.”
    â€œI used to take the library tour once a year when I was a kid—I don’t remember it.”
    â€œThey built it about five years ago. The Barnes family donated twenty million dollars. They renovated the entire Main Reading Room. Remember when it was closed for over a year?”
    Regina nodded.
    â€œThe Barnes Room used to be open. I spent some time in there, but not since I had to start bothering with permission.”
    â€œWhom would I ask for permission?”
    Margaret shrugged.
    Regina was not one to ignore authority, but she couldn’t imagine that the works were meant to be hidden from library staff. It made sense that the public couldn’t go traipsing through the room at will, but surely it couldn’t hurt if she just took a peek.
    The dark bronze doors were framed in marble, with the words JASPER T. BARNES ROOM in gold letters. Regina gingerly approached the door, and thought that if it were locked, that would solve her dilemma of whether or not to try to sneak a look inside.
    She placed her hand on the gold handle, and, with only a few seconds of hesitation, pressed down. The door was unlocked, and she pushed it open.
    The first thing she noticed was that the room was much simpler in style than most other places in the library. It was English classical, and the walls were floor-to-ceiling books in wooden and glass shelving. In the center of the room was a long, dark wood table—almost like a dining room table, surrounded by antique chairs finished in red leather.
    And then she realized she was not alone.
    A strange, almost keening sound emanated from one corner of the room, a space obscured from the view of the doorway. But as she stepped farther inside, the source of the noise became shockingly clear. A naked woman was bent over a marble bench, her arms supporting the weight of