In about twenty minutes the committee came out in ones and twos and dispersed without saying anything to us. Tillman came out last.
“The committee has voted to recommend to the dean that Robinson Nevins be granted tenure,” he said.
Tommy Harmon broke into a wide grin and shook my hand.
“You’ll inform Robinson?” I said.
“Right now,” he said and walked away.
Bass Maitland and Lillian Temple were still there. He began to walk away. She lingered for a moment behind him.
“Well,” she said. “It looks like you’ve won.”
“Yes,” I said. “It looks like I have.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I…” She paused for a long time. I waited. Finally she shook her head and turned and started after Maitland.
“Sleep warm,” I said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Apparently it was going to rain forever. But today, so it shouldn’t be boring, there was thunder and lightning as well. I was standing at my window watching the rainwater overwhelm the storm drains and back up over the sidewalk on Berkeley Street. A long streak of lightning razzmatazzed across the sky, followed hard upon by thunder. It was early, people were on their way to work. Below me a scatter of colorful umbrella tops was bright against the gleaming wet pavement. Flowers on a dark wet field.
Behind me someone knocked on my office door. I turned away from the storm and looked at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
A fat guy with his hat on backward came in.
“You Spenser?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Got a couch here.”
“A couch?”
“Yeah, where you want it.”
“I didn’t buy a couch,” I said.
“Well, somebody did, says here your name, this address.”
“Does it say who bought it?”
“Nope. Got a phone number though.”
He read it to me. It was Susan’s.
“Put it next to the door,” I said.
He went back out and in a minute he came in with one end of a couch wrapped in plastic. At the other end was a tall thin black man who was probably Haitian. They put the couch down, the Haitian man took the plastric wrap off it. The fat guy with the hat got my signature on the slip and they left. I closed the door and looked at the couch. It was very manly looking, brass studs, dark green leather, and long. I tried stretching out on it. Nap-able. I got up and went back and looked at the weather some more. More lightning jittered past. Behind me the door opened. It was Susan wearing a scarlet silk raincoat and a big hat. She had a large bag of something with her. As soon as she got inside she turned and studied the couch.
“Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute,” she said.
“Five cutes,” I said. “You look like the rain goddess.”
“I know,” she said. “Do we love our new couch?”
“Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute,” I said.
“You’ve got the phrasing all wrong,” she said. “You pause after the second cute, then rattle off the last three rapidly.”
“I’ll work on it,” I said. “What’s in the bag?”
“Eats,” she said. “In case you’ve not had breakfast.”
“I can always use another breakfast,” I said.
“Egg salad sandwiches,” Susan said, as she took things out of the bag, and put them on my desk. “On light rye, coffee, and some adorable little Key lime cookies.”
“Excellent choices,” I said. “Why do I have a new couch in my office?”
“You need one,” Susan said.
She put napkins out and unwrapped one of the sandwiches. It was cut in quarters.
