Read Online Irish Gilt by Ralph McInerny - Free Book Online

Vega.”
    â€œThat’s Rebecca’s middle name.”
    â€œNow you know why.”
    Was Roger actually suggesting that the way to Rebecca’s heart was via her father’s interest in Spanish literature? When Josh thought of it that way, it sounded pretty silly. Still, being polite never hurt.
    â€œThanks for the tip,” he said.

14
    Xavier Kittock had found his return to campus everything that he had expected. The weather was contrast enough to Florida’s to give zest to life. He sprang out of bed in the morning and into the shower as if he were on some demanding schedule, and he loved it. Ever since getting out of the navy, he had been fulfilling the dream of indolence that carries one through the working years. When it comes, though, it swiftly loses its charms. The thing about a vacation is that it’s temporary, a furlough; retirement just goes on and on. Who would have thought that you could get tired of golf? The expedition to find buried treasure seemed to bring him back to active duty, and it led to other things. Now, back at Notre Dame, he had a routine. His room was only a notch above a student room; there were all kinds of places to pick up breakfast. At 11:30, he went to Mass in Sacred Heart Basilica, surprised at how easily piety returned in this setting. Then there were the long hours in the archives.
    Suddenly this idyll had been disturbed. First, there had been Bernice, the girl in the eatery at Grace, where he often went for a long lunch after a morning in the archives. He felt like an ass when he remembered telling her he was a writer. That had led to her telling him of her ambitions. Hers seemed a commentary on his own imaginary aspirations. It was pretty obvious that Bernice wanted to be an author, but it was unclear whether she could be a writer. Was he any better? They both wanted the title without the effort. This sense of similarity made him more sympathetic to her rather than less. Then he had been publicly confronted by her husband!
    Lying on his bed, shoes kicked off, hands behind his head, he sought on the ceiling the memory of that encounter. His first impulse was to tell the man that he had it all wrong—Bernice was so much younger, the accusation was ridiculous—but how could he justify himself with people slowing down and listening in as the man all but shouted his accusation on a campus walk? Then he was gone, and Kittock hurried away to his room and the replaying of the humiliating episode. One thing was sure, he would never return to the eatery in Grace. If he got serious about any woman at his age it would be Clare Healy.
    Now Boris Henry was looking for him. Greg Walsh had phoned Kittock and managed to get out that message with some effort. Kittock thanked him and hung up and then wondered why the archivist felt he should warn him about Boris. Of course, it was Zahm. Kittock thought of Boris seeing that row of boxes on the table in the workroom of the archives. Naturally he would think that Kittock was poaching on his territory.
    Well, he was. At the reunion, on a walk around the lakes, Paul Lohman had gone on and on about the transformation in their old friend, from lawyer to leading rare book dealer. “What he doesn’t know,” Paul said in admiration. “He sounds like a professor with a dozen specialities. Do you know The Great Gatsby ?”
    â€œThe novel?”
    â€œBoris quoted from it. ‘I was that narrowest of specialists, the well-rounded man.’”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œAsk Boris. He carries a lot of Notre Dame stuff. He says it sells like candy. You know the hall we lived in, Zahm? Named after a priest, John Zahm. He’s become a big interest of Boris’s.”
    That was all, at least about Boris. He and Paul played nine holes, and Eggs took it easy on his old roommate. His own handicap was down to four, but he was almost ashamed of that, listening to Boris Henry’s exciting