Chapter 19: The Offer

Geoffrey's POV

The dean from Chicago called on Tuesday.

I was standing in my kitchen, eating cereal out of the box.

"Geoffrey," he said. "I owe you an apology and a question."

"Go ahead."

"Your grandmother has been busy."

I put the box down.

"Busy doing what?"

"She was extremely polite. She asked if the department makes a habit of losing its best people over a letter written in good faith."

"I'm sorry. She's eighty. She's used to being obeyed."

"I've been on the phone with her for twenty minutes," he said, "and I'd like to be obeyed by her myself."

He laughed, and I did not.

"The chair is yours," he said. "Your grandmother says the Ridgemont review is nearly done. We can live with a letter in your file."

"Thank you."

"I need your answer by Friday."

"And if I say yes?"

"You start the first of January. The house by the lake comes with it."

I looked around my rented kitchen.

It had one mug in the sink and a window facing a parking lot.

A girl had told me it was the loneliest room she had ever seen.

She had been right.

"Thank you," I said. "I'll call you Friday."

I hung up and stood there with my hand flat on the counter.

Then I looked at the counter where she had sat in my shirt, and I had to turn around.

The dean at Ridgemont called an hour later.

She was a brisk woman with no small talk, and I had expected a speech.

"The review is closed," she said. "You'll find a letter in your file about the timing. Two things."

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