clenched, feeling like a kid on the first day of school. Morris had checked his messages after he’d finished talking to Jerry the night before, and one of the office assistants from the university had left a voice mail. The department wanted Morris to clear out Sheila’s personal effects. They wanted to make room for a new professor who was currently sharing an office with someone else. Space was at a premium, so would he mind coming down at his earliest convenience to pack up Dr. Tao’s things?
Morris minded. But what choice was there?
The elevator doors opened and a small sign with a red arrow pointed the way to the psychology department’s main office. After a few short steps, Morris found himself standing in front of a long counter where three middle- aged women were working. All three heads popped up at his arrival.
The lady on the far right with the short, curly brown hair spoke first. “You must be Morris.” Her voice was girlish and she favored him with a smile. “I recognize you from the pictures in Dr. Tao’s office.”
They shook hands. The other two ladies exchanged a knowing glance, then went back to their computer screens. The office wasn’t busy. Morris would bet ten bucks they were playing FreeCell.
The secretary’s name was Dolores. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. Looking down at her from his height of six feet four, Morris could see graying roots and the spot on the top of her head where her hair appeared to be thinning. He managed a smile and followed her out of the office. On her wrist, she wore a bracelet made of keys held together with some kind of stretchy telephone cord. The keys jangled as they made their way back to the elevators.
“I had Maintenance bring by some boxes.” She punched the elevator’s up button with a short, unpolished fingernail. Glasses hung around her neck and rested on top of her embroidered sweater. “We could have packed up her office ourselves, but I thought you might prefer to do it. There are some personal items in her drawers you might want to bring to her. Or to her house, anyway.”
The elevator arrived and Dolores looked up at him. “How is she?”
Morris felt his face flush. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
The small elevator felt tinier than ever. He had no desire to fill it with talk of Sheila or the weather or the hundred other small-talk items that people saved for moments like this. All he wanted to know was where that bastard Ethan Wolfe was, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
They stepped out of the elevator, and he followed Dolores down to the end of the hallway, where she unlocked the last door with her master key.
She turned the knob, then hesitated. “Dean Simmons was wondering if you knew when she’d be back. He was surprised-well, we all were-by her abrupt departure. She said she was ill from stress, but… do you know if she’s found another position?”
“I really couldn’t say.” His tone was abrupt. “I know as much as you do.”
“I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
“Don’t apologize. This is weird for everyone.”
He stepped inside the office and stifled a sigh. Despite her absence, the room was filled with Sheila’s presence. Traces of her perfume, a light floral blend, still lingered in the air. On her desk in a crystal vase was the bouquet of roses he’d given her the night he proposed, dried and preserved to perfection. Her favorite Pottery Barn mug sat near the computer. Its rim still had a lipstick stain-deep red, her color. Flattened boxes and a pile of newspapers were scattered on the floor.
“I’ll leave you then.” Dolores watched him with a sad look on her face. “When you’re done, dial extension two one two on the desk phone and I’ll have someone help you bring the boxes to your car. I believe everything here is hers, except the furniture and the computer.”
“Thank you.”
She closed the door behind her. Morris took a moment to compose himself before getting to work. It all seemed so surreal. Sheila loved her job-how could she have walked away from it? She’d said once that the university was the only thing that kept her going after her divorce.
He plucked her diplomas from the wall and wrapped them carefully in newspaper, stopping when a framed photograph caught his eye. He’d been in Sheila’s office only a handful of times, so he couldn’t say how long it had been there. It was a photo of him.
He was smiling, standing beside his giant stainless steel barbecue wearing a red plaid shirt and blue jeans, a soda in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other. This would have been early last summer. They’d eaten steaks and salads on the patio and talked for hours. Afterward, they had watched a movie on pay per view. He couldn’t remember the name of it now, but it was a comedy. He could still remember the way Sheila had felt snuggled up in his arms, and the light in her eyes when she laughed.
Morris blinked back tears, appalled at the thought that someone might catch him crying in her office. He grabbed a box from the stack and methodically began to fill it.
After the boxes were brought out to his car, Morris went back inside the office to speak to Dolores.
In a low voice, he asked, “Do you know where I can find one of Sheila’s teaching assistants? Ethan Wolfe. He, uh, might have something of Sheila’s that I need to bring with me.”
“Let me check.” Dolores typed something into the computer. “Yes, he has office hours today. Room six oh six. Make a left when you leave the elevator.”
Morris thanked her one last time.
Two minutes later, he was standing outside a small, sparsely decorated office, staring at the back of Ethan Wolfe’s head. The grad student was seated behind his desk but was turned toward the window, his back to the doorway. Morris rapped his knuckles hard on the doorframe.
“It’s open,” Wolfe said, spinning around in his chair. His face froze.
Morris stepped inside.
The kid was better looking than he remembered, but then again, he hadn’t looked at Wolfe too closely the night they’d met. Morris had been too focused on whether Sheila had liked her diamond bracelet. Feeling self-conscious, he sucked in his gut and stood up straighter.
Wolfe was on the phone. “Gotta go,” he said quietly into the receiver. “See you at home.” He placed the handset back in its cradle.
“Howdy.” Morris was trying for pleasant, but it came out gruff. “Don’t know if you remember me. I’m Morris Gardener.”
“Sheila’s fiance. Of course.” Looking less than enthused, Wolfe lifted himself out of his chair.
They shook hands and Morris found himself pressing harder on the younger man’s palm than was necessary.
“What brings you by?”
“The lady in the office asked me to pack up Sheila’s things.” Morris gave the smaller man a deliberate once- over. “Guess they need the office space.”
Wolfe nodded and sat back down. The Seahawks bobble-head on the desk vibrated. “Office space is like gold around here. Sheila had the best spot in the building, with the best view.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead.”
Morris reached for the door.
“Would you mind leaving it open?” Wolfe said quickly. “It gets pretty stuffy in here.”
That pang again.
Morris shut the door firmly behind him. “I think you’ll agree that what we need to talk about is best kept private.”
Wolfe stiffened.
Morris eased himself into the small chair across from Wolfe and studied the young man, who was sipping something from Starbucks and watching him with a furtive expression. Christ, Ethan Wolfe was still a kid. And he looked completely uncomfortable. It was a total one-eighty from the last time Morris had seen him, when he was all cock and swagger.
Something about the way the kid sat in the chair was familiar. The thought nagged, and Morris allowed himself to ruminate on it for about five seconds before reminding himself that he and Wolfe had met before.
The TA finally broke the silence. “Is there news about Dr. Tao?”
