If not for the conversation with Sam, I’d have been giddy when he heaved open the mahogany doors and we entered the enormous chamber.The walls were bookcases, and every shelf was full.There were no separate rooms for different sections, like I’d imagined, but high bookcases gave the illusion of privacy in corners or on balconies over the main floor. Solid mahogany tables dotted the empty spaces, along with delicate lamps with stained-glass shades. Tiny sparrows and squirrels glowed.Soft rugs covered the aisles; hardwood floors peeked from beneath the edges. I stepped over diamonds and snowflakes, inhaling the scent of leather and ink and dust.“Maybe,” I said, turning to find Sam watching me explore, “we could just move in here.” The heavy air blanketed my words, even though the chamber was a dozen stories tall. “We could move the bookcases in the middle of the floor for the piano.”He made a noise that was not quite a laugh and let the door close behind him. “The acoustics are terrible, though.
