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from being purchased by unwary dealers and collectors. Now, I know this isn’t strictly kosher, but I need to buy a little time here. We’re talking to an alum about donating a major book collection. If word of these thefts got out right now…”
I got it. “Rachel asked me to keep the loss of the dime novels to myself, and I’ll keep quiet about this as well.”
“Good.” Avery sat back in his chair. “As you can imagine, anything concerning our collections, which, as you know, are exceptional, involves extremely delicate issues of public relations, such as donor confidence and perceptions of campus safety. Most likely I’m going to have to take a drastic step, a step not everyone will be comfortable with. And, oddly enough, as it turns out, I may have to request that you…” He sat immobile for a second or two, then jumped up and strode over to the fireplace to poke at the glowing logs. The iron poker had an Enfield crest wrought into the handle. He spoke with his back to me. “Anyhow, everything has to be done on the q.t. If I might ask you, for the good of the college, and as a personal favor to me—”
I held up a hand. I didn’t think I needed to hear the rest of it. “Silent as the grave,” I said. “I promise.” Personal favor to you. You slick piece of work.… A two-year-ago kiss hung heavy in the air between us. I could still feel its ghost on my lips. Then I thought about Charlie and rose from my chair. “Well, if that’s all—”
He turned and gave me a long, blue, hooded look, then sighed. “Yes, Karen, that’s all. For now.”
***
I pulled into the driveway later than evening, and my headlights raked over a battered grey Jetta. Amanda! What the hell? What was my daughter doing home on a weeknight in the middle of her final semester at Georgetown?
“Amanda?” I called, as I twisted the key in the kitchen door. “Honey?”
She came out of her bedroom in black leggings and a navy sweatshirt, frowsy with sleep although it was only eight o’clock. “Hey, Mom, I was worried about you. Where’ve you been?”
“Hey, Kid,” I mimicked, throwing my arms around her and squeezing. “I’m a grown-up. I stay out late.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Her short hair was sticking straight up on top. “But I was looking forward to one of your beef stews.”
I smoothed down the cowlick. “What say I throw together some bacon and eggs? I’ll tell you what I was doing at school, and you can tell me what you’re doing home.”
My daughter was uncharacteristically subdued. “I’m tired, is all. It’s been a rough semester, what with my thesis, and the course work, and the waitressing.” Amanda had worked part-time throughout her college years to help me patch together her tuition, room and board. In spite of generous scholarships, the fees for her top-of-the-line university were more than an assistant professor’s salary could handle. “I just had to take a break, Mom. Called in sick at Giorgio’s, and I’ll cut a couple of days’ classes.” She gave me a defensive look. “I haven’t missed a class yet this semester, and I’m beat.”
“You don’t have to convince me, Sweetie,” I said, giving her another hug. “A little hooky never hurt anyone. But are you sure you’re okay?”
I was worried. Amanda was pale and quiet. She picked at her eggs, and almost fell asleep at the table. And then my usually up-half-the-night daughter went to bed again at nine and immediately fell asleep.
***
The next morning Charlie and I sat on the living room floor pulling books out of the old glass-front bookcases I’d picked up years ago in a North Adams junk shop. The sun cast blocky shadows on the faded rag rug. A fire glowed in the wood stove. It was a cozy domestic scene. Although we weren’t officially living together, Charlie and I spent as much time with each other as we possibly could. We’d talked about me moving into Charlie’s small frame house on a side street in Northampton.
I got it. “Rachel asked me to keep the loss of the dime novels to myself, and I’ll keep quiet about this as well.”
“Good.” Avery sat back in his chair. “As you can imagine, anything concerning our collections, which, as you know, are exceptional, involves extremely delicate issues of public relations, such as donor confidence and perceptions of campus safety. Most likely I’m going to have to take a drastic step, a step not everyone will be comfortable with. And, oddly enough, as it turns out, I may have to request that you…” He sat immobile for a second or two, then jumped up and strode over to the fireplace to poke at the glowing logs. The iron poker had an Enfield crest wrought into the handle. He spoke with his back to me. “Anyhow, everything has to be done on the q.t. If I might ask you, for the good of the college, and as a personal favor to me—”
I held up a hand. I didn’t think I needed to hear the rest of it. “Silent as the grave,” I said. “I promise.” Personal favor to you. You slick piece of work.… A two-year-ago kiss hung heavy in the air between us. I could still feel its ghost on my lips. Then I thought about Charlie and rose from my chair. “Well, if that’s all—”
He turned and gave me a long, blue, hooded look, then sighed. “Yes, Karen, that’s all. For now.”
***
I pulled into the driveway later than evening, and my headlights raked over a battered grey Jetta. Amanda! What the hell? What was my daughter doing home on a weeknight in the middle of her final semester at Georgetown?
“Amanda?” I called, as I twisted the key in the kitchen door. “Honey?”
She came out of her bedroom in black leggings and a navy sweatshirt, frowsy with sleep although it was only eight o’clock. “Hey, Mom, I was worried about you. Where’ve you been?”
“Hey, Kid,” I mimicked, throwing my arms around her and squeezing. “I’m a grown-up. I stay out late.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Her short hair was sticking straight up on top. “But I was looking forward to one of your beef stews.”
I smoothed down the cowlick. “What say I throw together some bacon and eggs? I’ll tell you what I was doing at school, and you can tell me what you’re doing home.”
My daughter was uncharacteristically subdued. “I’m tired, is all. It’s been a rough semester, what with my thesis, and the course work, and the waitressing.” Amanda had worked part-time throughout her college years to help me patch together her tuition, room and board. In spite of generous scholarships, the fees for her top-of-the-line university were more than an assistant professor’s salary could handle. “I just had to take a break, Mom. Called in sick at Giorgio’s, and I’ll cut a couple of days’ classes.” She gave me a defensive look. “I haven’t missed a class yet this semester, and I’m beat.”
“You don’t have to convince me, Sweetie,” I said, giving her another hug. “A little hooky never hurt anyone. But are you sure you’re okay?”
I was worried. Amanda was pale and quiet. She picked at her eggs, and almost fell asleep at the table. And then my usually up-half-the-night daughter went to bed again at nine and immediately fell asleep.
***
The next morning Charlie and I sat on the living room floor pulling books out of the old glass-front bookcases I’d picked up years ago in a North Adams junk shop. The sun cast blocky shadows on the faded rag rug. A fire glowed in the wood stove. It was a cozy domestic scene. Although we weren’t officially living together, Charlie and I spent as much time with each other as we possibly could. We’d talked about me moving into Charlie’s small frame house on a side street in Northampton.
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