folks should have been here by now, shouldn’t they?
“Pretty good papers so far,” I hazarded.
“I thought they were better in Chicago,” she said, not looking up; her dark hair made a curtain between her face and sight of me.
“Oh.” I pulled up my briefcase and rummaged around inside until I found the small box of goodies that I’d brought. “How was your summer?”
“Rotten. Never made near the numbers for our field school, so we had to cancel it. Didn’t get a tenth of the work done I wanted to.”
Little Miss Mary Sunshine. “Bad luck.”
She grunted, and flipped a page of her notebook.
I heard a rustling in the hall and looked up just in time to see Lissa look in and see that it was just the two of us. A look of horror crossed her face, and despite my pleading glance, she scurried right past the door and down the hallway. Thanks a lot, Lissa; see if I ever talk to you again, you wretch.
Carla came in right after, and she was followed by Chris.
“Hey, Carla, Chris,” I said, not about to let them get away. Carla hesitated by the door, but, God bless her, came through and sat down next to me. Chris, oblivious to it all, came in, said hi to me, and sat down heavily at the middle of the table.
“How you doing, Noreen?” he said.
“Hi, Chris!” She gave him the first smile I’d seen out of her, and she called him over to her end of the table. “I got something you might be interested in.”
Fat chance, I thought. Slut.
“Glad I got here when I did,” Carla whispered while she settled in. “I can call the trauma team ahead of time so that they can come in and clean up the gore before it hardens and sticks to the walls.”
Carla rummaged through her bag and pulled out a couple of small, brown, acid-free boxes. “That’s disgusting,” I whispered back. “It’s not that bad.”
“What channel are you watching? I’m just glad Chris was here to throw himself on the grenade.”
“Chris is too nice a guy to realize he’s a diversion.”
By this point, several others had come in, including Lissa, who strode in and took a neutral seat, smirking, her eyes bright with concealed merriment. I mouthed the word “bitch” to her, and she put her hand up to her throat in feigned surprise. She could barely conceal her giggling.
“What’s wrong with you?” Carla demanded. “You choking on something?”
Lissa tried without much luck to compose herself. “Me? No.”
“Then why is your face all screwed up like that?”
“Excuse me,” Lissa said, and bolted from the room. I heard the ladies room door open, and gales of laughter gradually suffocating as it closed.
“Well, she can talk and run, so she’s not going to choke to death,” Carla said. “Sometimes I think Lissa’s crazier than a shithouse rat.”
I introduced myself to the only person who was new to me, a middle-aged guy who looked like the caricature of an accountant—receding hairline, on the tall, slightish side, bad suit. The very picture of a pensive, butt-puckered corporate bean-counter.
“William S. Widmark,” he said, shaking my hand. “I’m not here because I’ve got something, but because my engineering company has just acquired Northeastern Consulting and my colleague is presenting a paper right now. Dr. DuBois was kind enough to let me sit in.”
“You’ll find it’s a lot of fun, very informative,” I said, trying to think of what I could say that would give him a good impression of archaeologists and what we do. You never could tell what was going to happen to the archaeologists when a bigger company swallowed up theirs. The seats were filling up, so I returned to my chair.
Michelle came in and slid into the seat next to me. “You’re saving this for me, aren’t you, love?”
“And no one else,” I replied.
Brad walked in and overheard us, and gave a startled double take. “You got something you want to tell me, Em? Michelle?”
“No, Brad,” Michelle replied. “You got something you want to tell me?”
He shook his head, took his place, and looked around the table, counting to himself. Brad was the de facto moderator because he’d assumed the role the first time, six years ago, and we needed one. He was good enough at it, but certainly did make a big deal out of a small occasion. I had to admit, though, it helped to have someone do the dirty work of keeping us all in order.
“I think we’re