the adjuncts? I know Jules said professor, but that may be a misunderstanding. A drunken party at a frat house—wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That—yes!” Tim sits up, obviously relieved at the thought. “That’s perfectly plausible. Bad enough, very bad, but—hell, yeah! It’s one of the frat boys! C’mon, let’s hang out on your porch. Maybe they’ll come over and tell us.”
I get him another beer—he assures me he can have another one, for the shock, and still drive home—and offer him the rocking chair, which triggers an extremely funny shtick in the character of Laura Ingalls on how she went a-studying in the big city and fell for her handsome professor.
“So, tell me about Martin,” I challenge him, innocently.
“What Martin?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“I’m not an ass, I’m an arse,” he quips but fortunately decides, upon reflection, not to elaborate. “Martin’s my man.”
“So the moving-in is a temporary arrangement, but Martin isn’t.”
“No, he isn’t temporary. I think.”
“And you’re really not…out…to the department?”
“I’d say I’m neither out nor in.” He shrugs after a baleful pause. “He—or she—who has eyes to see, will see, but I’m a professor on tenure track, not a gay-rights activist.”
“Was that the problem the first time round?”
He dismisses the episode like he would swat a wasp away from his face. “With hindsight I’d say that homophobia played into it but that it was only one factor—the most actionable factor, though, which of course made the lawyers focus on it in a way that—ah, well. The whole thing was a nightmare. I don’t want to ever be involved in anything like that again.”
“And the Winchester connection?”
“You mean, did Cleve get me in here because we were at school together? No, I got this job fair and square!”
Cleveland must have been on Tim’s search committee, and among the things I learned about private schools like Eton, Rugby, and Winchester when I was in England is that “old boys” smell each other out like stoats. But I understand that Tim and Cleveland have to pretend to each other, themselves, and the world that this played no part in Tim’s appointment.
“So, do tell. Tim Blundell’s Schooldays. Director’s cut.”
“Forget it, you salacious little fag hag!”
“Hey! If I wanna know about that time Cleveland rogered you behind the Fives’ Court, I’ll ask, okay? Geez!”
“You don’t even know what Fives is, you colonial.”
“Whatever. Something posh and brutal to do with a ball!”
He laughs. “Sorry, then. I know Giles had his chances at school. Don’t know whether he ever took anyone up on an offer. Of course I had a bit of a crush on him; lots of us did. He was academically top-notch and a member of Lords—the cricket team—and something of a dish, as you can imagine.”
I say nothing.
“Well, maybe you can’t, but he was. Is, I would have thought, although I know he doesn’t necessarily appeal to American women.”
“He doesn’t?” asks Puts-Her-Foot-In-It.
“Well, no—too reserved. The understated charm of the English upper middle-class male is lost on your sisters. There is nothing understated about the sides of hung beef favored by American women.”
“Speak for yourself, dear.”
“Tell me, Lieberman—” Tim chuckles “—what’s the type you go for? By the way, I like you in your glasses. The sexy librarian. Have you started looking for some light diversion yet? Nice Jewish Boys are few and far between around here, I’m afraid. There’s Freddy Katz, but he’s orthodox with half a dozen children. His wife’s an assistant professor in the music department. Then there’s—oh, incoming, eleven o’clock!”
Karen and a woman about ten years older than her are walking toward us from the direction of the main house, their heads bent toward each other in rapid exchange, and I can sense their discomfort from here. As so often in my dealings with the Walshes, I am unsure of protocol. It seems impolite to remain seated till they have come up to us; on the other hand, getting up and walking toward them might be misunderstood to mean that I don’t want them on my porch. I take my cue from Tim, who rises from his chair, and together we walk down the steps and wait there.
“Anna, I’m—I’m so sorry!”
“You mean because of Jules? Don’t worry, Karen!”
“I’m so tore up about it, sir, I hope you weren’t—well, of course you were offended, how could you not be!”
“Don’t give her the satisfaction of having riled you,” Tim intervenes, and I nod my agreement, but they stare at him as much for the authoritative way he has inserted himself into the