She told the car to go to Nick’s place. “He’ll probably be sawing away at the cello if I get home at three.”
“Hard to live with an artiste?” Dove said.
“Hard to live with somebody who doesn’t keep regular hours. As if I did!” She turned around in the driver’s seat. “But Norm’s really odd. He never sleeps more than a few hours at a time. Naps now and then, no particular schedule.”
“Like Edison,” Lamar said.
“No lightbulbs or phonograph. But he’s a heck of a good cook.”
They murmured assent. “You’ll be glad when this thing’s over?” Dove said. “Get back to doing actual research.”
“Not as much of that as I’d like. ‘This thing’ has kindled a new interest in astronomy in the young. I’ve bowed to pressure and agreed to take on two sections of elementary.”
“That’s a lot of kids.”
“Fifty apiece. But I get two new grad assistants, so I just have to lecture.”
“The rest of your load stays the same?” Lamar asked.
“Yeah, but it’s not bad. A graduate seminar and a small class on nonthermal sources. And I’m getting a good bonus for the two extra sections.
“I’ve always enjoyed elementary. I just don’t look forward to being spontaneous with the same lecture, three days a week.”
Dove nodded. “I had to do two sections a couple of years back, when that boy genius from Princeton jumped ship. It’s a strange sensation.”
The car pulled up in front of Nick’s, and the three went in for their coffee: burned, sweet, and rich.
Nick waved at Rory. “Just a second, Professor.” She’d phoned in the order, not sure how late he stayed open.
She said hello to the only other customer, not certain whether she knew him. She’d seen him before, writing by hand in a bound journal.