Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is the sole owner and proprietor of the Twilight saga and universe.

2. Randall

On my drive back to Boston, I was buoyed by my thoughts alternating between finding the missing text and the opportunity to see Bella again. I realized that Randall's email suggested he was now Lily-less and possibly free for a night at Angelico's. I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled to his number.

"Hello Josh! Did you get my email?" Randall had an excellent baritone, nearly in the same range as my own voice. We had gotten rotten drunk at least once and done a karaoke duet which had convinced our dates if no one else that we were passable singers.

"Absolutely! I'm on my way back from my double delight right now. I wondered if you wanted to meet me at Angelico's in about an hour? I can update you on how the afternoon progressed."

Two hours later, Randall and I were well on our way to becoming happily buzzed in Angelico's. We were sitting in my usual booth, the one with the excellent view of the bar area. Both of us were watching the bar, but neither of us were very serious about it. The buzz of voices and the music was such that no one could hear us past the edge of the booth. The place wasn't anywhere near as full as it would be later in the evening.

"So what did you think of Bella?" I asked Randall. He must have been with Lily when he was at the bookstore, so he might not have paid close attention to detail.

"I'm not sure if she's my type," he said, his eyes following one of the waitresses cross the floor. I followed his eyes and appreciated the view. "She was too thin and a little too washed out for me. I like the warmer-looking ones myself. You know, a little tanner, maybe a little softer-looking, too. I was shocked when I saw the manuscripts in the display, though."

"Yeah," I responded. "Like I said, they weren't there when I went by, but it is shocking that a missing manuscript would show up in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire in a little bitty bookstore."

"Did you ask her about how she got ahold of that?" asked Randall curiously.

"We didn't get that far," I admitted with some disappointment. "We were interrupted by a gas station mechanic of all things. He was one of the biggest guys I'd ever seen."

"Was that Emmett?" asked Randall. His eyes wandered across the bar, but he seemed to have tensed up a bit.

"Emmett? No, I think his name was James…no Jacob," I answered. "Are you on a first-name basis with mechanics in Wolfeboro?" I laughed a bit. Maybe it was the third Yuengling, but this conversation seemed a little off to me.

"No, it was nothing," responded Randall. "There was a big guy there when we were in the store, and I thought his name was Emmett. What did this Jacob look like?"

"I thought he might be Native American, actually. He had jet black hair and that dark coloring. He might have been closer to 7 feet than to 6 feet, and he was muscled up, too." I remembered the look he'd given me, and thought Randall might enjoy the story. "I don't think he wanted me talking to Bella, which is weird. I mean, she runs a business, right? She needs customers. And I swear he sniffed at me when he left the shop."

At that point I was almost certain Randall twitched, but when I looked back at him, he was just taking a swig of his Guiness and watching the bar.

"You never did tell me what this manuscript is supposed to be about," commented Randall, changing the subject. "Il viaggiatore, right? What does that mean?"

"It translates as 'The Traveller,'" I responded. "It was written by someone who called himself the traveller. The manuscript is a story of two different royal families who are depicted as depraved parasites on the common people. The fragments which are readable in the one available copy are suggestive that the author had direct personal contact with royal or rather noble families in both Italy and Romania. The characters that I could read about were amazing, but the plot line or the purpose of the manuscript was obscured in the water damage. I may find that it is nothing like what I expect when I finally get my hands on the cleaner copy. Well, assuming this copy is actually intact."

Randall was nodding his head and people (or rather female) watching. He turned to look at me more carefully. "When do you think you'll go back?"

I shrugged. "Hopefully within the week. I will be calling on Monday to hear whether I'll be allowed to go back." He nodded, giving me a shrewd look. "So, some of it may be because Bella is molto bella."

"Did you go in the other shops?" he asked. "There are some nice looking ladies in the other shops, too. That was all I had to look at while Lily spent 45 minutes in the dressing room."

"No, I drove straight back," I said. "Anyway, they looked a little girlie for me to wander into on my own. JeCree? I can barely stand girl shopping when I have the girl with me." I shook my head. Desiree had been a fun ride (pun intended) while she lasted, but her shopping habits had been terrifying. She had been the pinnacle of my experiences in the shopping sphere.

"I think there was one other girl working in the shop while I was there – did you see anyone else there? She was pretty hot, too. Not quite as pale as Bella. I can't quite remember her name." Randall appeared to have paid a lot of attention to the women on his trip with Lily.

"No, the place was empty except for Bella." I was getting a little weirded out by Randall's questions. There wasn't anything I could put my finger on, but I got the sense there was a subtext to his questions. "Anyway, depending on what happens Monday, I may never be going back."

Randall nodded slowly, then waved at our waitress for another round. I wondered how far he was going to go with questions about the women and mechanics of Wolfeboro, but when he looked back he grinned and asked what I thought of the Knicks-Celtics game the next day. Apparently, he had scored tickets from his department head who was going to a conference in Europe, and with no Lily, I was getting lucky.