Matthew ran his fingers over his scalp and glared at Chris.
“I thought so.” Chris tipped back his chair. “So. Given your predicament, what can Yale University do for you, Professor Clairmont?”
“No.” Matthew shook his head. “You are not using research students and postgraduates to analyze creature DNA.”
“It’s scary as hell, I know,” Chris continued in a gentler tone. “We’d all rather hide somewhere safe and let someone else make the tough decisions. But somebody is going to have to stand up and fight for what’s right. Fernando tells me you’re a pretty impressive warrior.”
Matthew stared at Chris, unblinking.
“I’ll stand with you, if that helps,” Chris added, “provided you meet me halfway.”
Matthew was not only an impressive warrior but an experienced one. He knew when he was beaten.
“You win, Chris,” he said quietly.
“Good. Let’s get started, then. I want to see the creature genetic maps. Then I want to sequence and reassemble the three creature genomes so they can be compared to the human genome.” Chris ticked off one item after another. “I want to be sure that you’ve correctly identified the gene responsible for blood rage. And I want the gene that makes it possible for Diana to conceive your child isolated. I don’t believe you’ve even started to look for that yet.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Matthew’s brows rose.
“As a matter of fact, there is.” Chris’s chair thudded to the ground. “Tell Miriam Shephard I want her ass in Kline Biology Tower on Monday morning. It’s on Science Hill. You can’t miss it. My lab is on the fifth floor. I’d like her to explain how my conclusions in Science were wrong before she joins us for our first team meeting at eleven.”
“I’ll pass that message along.” Matthew and Fernando glanced at each other, and Fernando shrugged as if to say, His funeral. “Just a reminder, Chris. The research you’ve outlined thus far will take years to complete. We won’t be at Yale for very long. Diana and I will have to be back in Europe by October, if we want the twins born there. Diana shouldn’t travel long distances after that.”
“All the more reason to have as many people as possible working on the project.” Chris stood up and put out his hand. “Deal?”
After a long pause, Matthew took it.
“Smart decision,” Chris said, giving it a shake. “I hope you brought your checkbook, Clairmont. The Yale Center for Genome Analysis and the DNA Analysis Facility both charge steep fees, but they’re fast and accurate.” He looked at his watch. “My bag is already in the car. How long before you two can hit the road?”
“We’ll be a few hours behind you,” Matthew said.
Chris kissed Sarah on the cheek and gave me a hug. Then his finger rose in a gesture of warning. “Eleven A.M. on Monday, Matthew. Don’t be late.”
On that note he left.
“What have I done?” Matthew muttered when the front door slammed shut. He looked a bit shell-shocked.
“It will be fine, Matthew,” Sarah said with surprising optimism. “I have a good feeling about all this.”
* * *
A few hours later, we climbed into the car. I waved to Sarah and Fernando from the passenger seat, blinking back the tears. Sarah was smiling, but her arms were wrapped so tightly around herself that the knuckles were white. Fernando exchanged a few words with Matthew and clasped him briefly, hand to elbow, in the familiar de Clermont fashion.
Matthew slid behind the wheel. “All set?”
I nodded. His finger pressed the switch, and the engine turned over.
Keyboard and drums flooded out of the sound system, accompanied by piercing guitars. Matthew fumbled with the controls, trying to turn the music down. When that failed, he tried to turn it off. But no matter what he did, Fleetwood Mac warned us not to stop thinking about tomorrow. Finally he flung up his hands in defeat.
“The house is sending us off in style, I see.” He shook his head and put the car in drive.
“Don’t worry. It won’t be able to keep the song going once we leave the property.”
We drove down the long driveway toward the road, the bumps all but imperceptible thanks to the Range Rover’s shock absorbers.
I twisted in the seat when Matthew flicked on the turn signal to leave the Bishop farm, but the last words of the song made me face forward again.
“Don’t look back,” I whispered.
Sol in Virgo
When the sun is in Virgo, send children to school. This signe signifieth a change of place.
—Anonymous English Commonplace Book, c. 1590,
Gonçalves MS 4890, f. 9r
More tea, Professor Bishop?”
“Hmm?” I looked up at the preppy young man with the expectant expression. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Thank you.”
“Right away.” He whisked the white porcelain teapot from the table.
I looked toward the door, but there was still no sign of Matthew. He was at Human Resources getting his identification badge while I waited for him in the rarefied atmosphere of the nearby New Haven Lawn Club. The hushed confines of the main building dampened the distinctive plonk of tennis balls and the screaming children enjoying the pool during the last week of summer vacation. Three brides-to-be and their mothers had been escorted through the room where I was sitting to view the facilities they would enjoy should they be married here.
This might be New Haven, but it was not my New Haven.
“Here you are, Professor.” My attentive waiter was back, accompanied by the fresh scent of mint leaves. “Peppermint tea.”
Living in New Haven with Matthew was going to require some adjustment. My little row house on the tree-lined, pedestrians-only stretch of Court Street was far more spartan than any of the residences we’d occupied over the last year, whether in the present or the past. It was furnished simply with flea-market finds, cheap pine furniture left over from my graduate-student days, and shelf upon shelf of books and journals. My bed didn’t have a footboard or a headboard, never mind a canopy. But the mattress was wide and welcoming, and at the end of our long drive from Madison the two of us had collapsed into it with groans of relief.
We’d spent most of the weekend stocking the house with essentials like any normal New Haven couple: wine from the store on Whitney Avenue for Matthew, groceries for me, and enough electronics to outfit a computer lab. Matthew was horrified that I owned only a laptop. We left the computer store on Broadway with two of everything—one for him and one for me. Afterward we strolled the paths of the residential colleges while the carillon played in Harkness Tower. College and town were just beginning to swell with returning students who shouted greetings across the quad and shared complaints about reading lists and class schedules.