“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, grasping his fingers in hers. “I feel like we’ve known one another for some time, what with all of the e-mails.”

Hudson nodded. “I know,” he agreed. “But I have to tell you, you’re not what I expected.”

Helen Guerneyser peered at him over small, gold-framed spectacles. “Is that so?” she said.

Hudson, alarmed, fell all over himself trying to apologize. “I didn’t mean ... It’s just that ...”

The woman put a hand on his arm. “Please,” she said. “I know what you’re saying. I don’t exactly fit your idea of an archivist, right?”

Relieved, Hudson ran a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he said. “I was imagining someone dowdier, more ...” He stopped again, realizing he’d made things worse for himself. “Not that archivists are dowdy or—”

Helen laughed. “It’s all right,” she told him. “I couldn’t agree more. We’re often a stuffy bunch. But as it happens, I came to archiving by way of the business world.”

Hudson sighed. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Can we start over?”

The woman led him past the desk and down a short hallway, where they entered an office that was as far removed from Hudson’s idea of an archivist’s den as Helen Guerneyser was from his idea of an archivist. She motioned to a chair in front of her desk, and he sat down.

“For many years I worked in banking,” Helen told him, picking up their conversation. “My involvement with the Steinbeck Center began when my husband was asked to be on the board. He was something of a community fixture in those days. Unfortunately, he was also something of an intellectual wasteland.”

Hudson, surprised to hear her say something like that about her husband, started to speak.

“I can say that now because the old fool is dead,” Helen said, saving him from the awkward moment. “And I didn’t say he was stupid. He had a great head for money. He just wasn’t a man of letters, only numbers.” She paused, smiling quietly at some private joke. “Anyway,” she continued, “fortunately for Wallace, I do have an interest in the arts. I was able to converse with the more literate members of the board, while he helped them to amass quite a substantial fortune. Gradually, I became more involved. One thing led to another, and when Wallace died, I saw no reason to cease my association with the Center. Instead, I bought myself some training and here I am.”

Hudson leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, his ankle resting on the opposite knee. “That’s quite a story,” he said.