Page 3 of The New Place

“Oh no,” Lee whispers.

Aliyah sets her palms on the table as if to stand. “I should just go now.”

“I am pleased to announce,” Chris says, drawing the words out in a bold, loud voice. “The Callahan Sociology Department Faculty Book Club!”

How is this man possibly friends with Abbot’s father? Bouncing on his toes with delight, and cheerful expectation on his face as he looks around the room. Even the blank stares he gets don’t dim his smile.

“I got funding,” Chris wheedles, and as one, the room relaxes a fraction. He hauls an absolutely massive box up onto the chair next to him, straining with the weight. “First meeting is at the end of February.”

“You want us to read this whole thing?” Lee asks as Chris starts passing thick, hardcover books around.

“We have classes to teach,” Aliya says. “Research. Papers. Conferences. Our work.”

“I’ll email some discussion questions ahead of time,” Chris promises. “And you’ll love this book. It’s a classic.”

“It’s so long,” Lee murmurs.

“What does this possibly have to do with sociology?” Aliyah asks.

Abbot lets Lee deposit a book next to his laptop. He doesn’t bother to pick it up as he types in his password. The recipe for a griessköpfli is still up in his browser. He’s never made the pudding, but Peggy had seen a picture and insisted it be their next baking venture.

He switches to his calendar as if obediently creating a reading schedule, but instead scans the weekends to come. He’ll be in Boston this weekend, and Ned will come up here the next. Then another weekend before Liesl’s visit that they haven’t made plans for yet. They could go somewhere. Take Chris up on his offer to use his house up on the coast, or—but no, Ned will have Peggy. Perhaps he could bring her and they could do something more suited for a six-year-old’s interest than watching the water and enjoying the silence. Drive to the mountains, maybe, for sledding and skiing. Abbot could find them a house for the weekend. One with a fireplace, and a yard for Baxter and building snowmen.

The image coalesces in his mind so quickly that he’s ready now to step into a reality of hot chocolate and Baxter sprawled in front of the fire, he and Peggy making Basler Läckerli in an unfamiliar kitchen while Ned tries to steal a bite.

He blinks. Chris is passing out books, and Abbot is alone in Portland, and Ned is down in Boston, too many hours and miles away.

So he has to wait. For the weekend, and the next after that, and the next and the next, each week capped by the promise of Ned, and each week spent silently urging time onward.

2

NED

Portland’s streets are lined with snowbanks, and Ned tries three of his usual spots in the city before he finally finds a place to park. When he’s clambered onto the sidewalk, it’s as much a mess of salt and slush as the roads, but he starts jogging anyway. He’ll care about his shoes later, and Baxter too, who is already asleep in the backseat, unperturbed by both the cold and Ned’s rush. Right now, he’s focused on making it to Pat’s.

By the time he does, he’s sweating and his hands are freezing. It’s too hot inside, his fingers burning as he tugs his zipper, eagerly scanning the evening crowd.

He sighs as he comes up empty. Abbot’s not here yet.

“He’s on his way?” Ned asks Pat as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hello to you too,” Pat says. “Soon. He said he had a meeting.”

Soon. It’s been a month. By all rights, Ned should have been here already, and Abbot should have shown up, ostensibly to hang out with Pat, and Abbot and Ned should already be enjoying their stolen evening together. “How soon?”

“Bold question for someone so on time.”

“There was traffic. And I thought he’d be here already.”

“You think you’re annoyed with me, but I can see the truth. You’re so disgustingly happy with your life that it’s honestly hard to look at you.”

“I am not.” Ned pauses, considering. “Okay, I am. Did I tell you I got another paper accepted for publication?”

“Did you tell me? Hold on. Let me think.” Pat taps his chin. “Did you ever, even once, mention that you’ve had not one, but two papers accepted by journals? I can’t quite put my finger on the memory. I’m really having trouble figuring out if I’ve ever heard this before.”

“Two papers, and I’m seeing my wonderful boyfriend tonight. Who you said would be here by now.”

“He’s coming, I swear. And you’re also seeing your beautiful best friend, I might add.”