asking if they were roommates at college.
“No, we met at group,” said Jennifer.
Lucy was puzzled. “What sort of group?”
Autumn leaned forward, speaking across Jennifer. “Not what you think. It’s no big deal, just something they have for freshmen. We get together once a week and talk about how we’re adjusting to school, time management, study skills, stuff like that.”
“Sounds good,” said Lucy, rising as the train pulled into Tottenham Court Road station, where they would change to the Northern Line. “I wish my daughter’s school had something like that.”
When they emerged at Goodge Street, Lucy noticed that Jennifer and Autumn were once again best of friends. They were walking with their heads together, and Autumn had her arm around Jennifer’s waist.
“What’s with those two?” asked Sue, falling into step beside Lucy. “One minute they’re fighting and the next they’re best friends.”
“I noticed that, too,” said Lucy, pausing to peek through a gate to admire the fenced gardens running behind the row houses. “Very weird.”
“What’s weird?” asked Rachel, joining them. “Hyacinths in March?”
“No, we were talking about the relationship between Jennifer and Autumn.” The girls were well out of earshot, far ahead of them on the sidewalk and turning the corner onto Gower Street.
“It’s almost a dominant-submissive sort of thing,” said Sue.
“I don’t think it’s so odd,” said Rachel, who was a psych major in college and never got over it. “College is a time for experimentation, discovering your real identity, and that includes your sexual identity.”
“Do you think they’re gay?” asked Pam, joining the group.
“Could be,” said Rachel. “It wouldn’t be the first time two women fell in love.” She pointed to a hyacinth that had escaped the neat border and sprouted in the middle of a lawn. “Or maybe they’re two outsiders who’ve found each other.”
Chapter Six
T here were no beans for breakfast on Monday; the menu was egg, bacon, and grilled tomato. Lucy discovered she loved grilled tomatoes, but Pam and Rachel were less enthusiastic. Sue stuck with black coffee and a triangle of toast.
After breakfast, the group lingered in the lounge, waiting for Quentin Rea, who was due to arrive at any moment. Lucy checked his flight on the computer the hotel provided for guests’ use in the lounge and learned he had landed at Heathrow over two hours ago.
She also checked her e-mail, replying to Bill’s update that all was well at home but everyone missed her with a chatty summary of her visit to the Tower and St. Paul’s. When she sent it off, she noticed a new e-mail in her folder from Elizabeth.
News from Elizabeth was rarely good. Like most college students, she only bothered to contact her parents when she was in trouble or needed money. Lucy opened the message only to learn with dismay that the new dean at Chamberlain College was, in Elizabeth’s words, “a stupid Fascist” who was threatening to remove Elizabeth from her post as a resident advisor. While Elizabeth was outraged at what she believed was the dean’s unfairness, Lucy had a different reaction. She was concerned about her bank balance, because the position provided free room and board, which amounted to several thousand dollars. If Elizabeth lost her job, they would have to come up with the money. Just the thought of such a large, unexpected expense was enough to put a damper on her vacation.
Hearing voices in the hallway, Lucy wrote a quick reply asking for more information, then glanced up as Quentin Rea entered the lounge accompanied by a tall young woman. She had the sort of looks that turned heads, not so much because her features were outstanding—her nose was a bit too big, her lips thin—but because she knew how to present herself. Her black tailored pantsuit not only fit her slender figure to perfection but it also set off her buttery, shoulder-length blond hair.
“No, we met at group,” said Jennifer.
Lucy was puzzled. “What sort of group?”
Autumn leaned forward, speaking across Jennifer. “Not what you think. It’s no big deal, just something they have for freshmen. We get together once a week and talk about how we’re adjusting to school, time management, study skills, stuff like that.”
“Sounds good,” said Lucy, rising as the train pulled into Tottenham Court Road station, where they would change to the Northern Line. “I wish my daughter’s school had something like that.”
When they emerged at Goodge Street, Lucy noticed that Jennifer and Autumn were once again best of friends. They were walking with their heads together, and Autumn had her arm around Jennifer’s waist.
“What’s with those two?” asked Sue, falling into step beside Lucy. “One minute they’re fighting and the next they’re best friends.”
“I noticed that, too,” said Lucy, pausing to peek through a gate to admire the fenced gardens running behind the row houses. “Very weird.”
“What’s weird?” asked Rachel, joining them. “Hyacinths in March?”
“No, we were talking about the relationship between Jennifer and Autumn.” The girls were well out of earshot, far ahead of them on the sidewalk and turning the corner onto Gower Street.
“It’s almost a dominant-submissive sort of thing,” said Sue.
“I don’t think it’s so odd,” said Rachel, who was a psych major in college and never got over it. “College is a time for experimentation, discovering your real identity, and that includes your sexual identity.”
“Do you think they’re gay?” asked Pam, joining the group.
“Could be,” said Rachel. “It wouldn’t be the first time two women fell in love.” She pointed to a hyacinth that had escaped the neat border and sprouted in the middle of a lawn. “Or maybe they’re two outsiders who’ve found each other.”
Chapter Six
T here were no beans for breakfast on Monday; the menu was egg, bacon, and grilled tomato. Lucy discovered she loved grilled tomatoes, but Pam and Rachel were less enthusiastic. Sue stuck with black coffee and a triangle of toast.
After breakfast, the group lingered in the lounge, waiting for Quentin Rea, who was due to arrive at any moment. Lucy checked his flight on the computer the hotel provided for guests’ use in the lounge and learned he had landed at Heathrow over two hours ago.
She also checked her e-mail, replying to Bill’s update that all was well at home but everyone missed her with a chatty summary of her visit to the Tower and St. Paul’s. When she sent it off, she noticed a new e-mail in her folder from Elizabeth.
News from Elizabeth was rarely good. Like most college students, she only bothered to contact her parents when she was in trouble or needed money. Lucy opened the message only to learn with dismay that the new dean at Chamberlain College was, in Elizabeth’s words, “a stupid Fascist” who was threatening to remove Elizabeth from her post as a resident advisor. While Elizabeth was outraged at what she believed was the dean’s unfairness, Lucy had a different reaction. She was concerned about her bank balance, because the position provided free room and board, which amounted to several thousand dollars. If Elizabeth lost her job, they would have to come up with the money. Just the thought of such a large, unexpected expense was enough to put a damper on her vacation.
Hearing voices in the hallway, Lucy wrote a quick reply asking for more information, then glanced up as Quentin Rea entered the lounge accompanied by a tall young woman. She had the sort of looks that turned heads, not so much because her features were outstanding—her nose was a bit too big, her lips thin—but because she knew how to present herself. Her black tailored pantsuit not only fit her slender figure to perfection but it also set off her buttery, shoulder-length blond hair.
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