So Lisl had faced each of those weekend drives-to-nowhere with growing anxiety, waiting for the inevitable invitation back to Will's place for "a couple of drinks" or where they could "be more comfortable." She waited. And waited.

But the other shoe never dropped. Will never made that "inevitable" pass.

Lisl smiled now at the memory of her own reaction when it had finally dawned that Will wasn't going to put the moves on her. She'd been hurt. Hurt! After spending months afraid he'd make a pass, she was wounded when he didn't. There was no winning this game.

Of course, she'd immediately blamed herself. She was too dumb, too frumpy, too dull, too nerdy to attract him. But then logic reared up and asked, If he truly saw her that way, why would he spend so much time with her?

Then she blamed Will. Was he gay? But that didn't seem to be the case. As far as she could figure, he had no men friends. No friends at all other than Lisl.

Asexual? Maybe.

A lot of maybes. One thing had been certain, though. Will Ryerson was the kindest, gentlest, deepest, weirdest man she had ever known. And despite all his quirks—and there were quite a few of them—she'd wanted to know him better.

Over the two years, Will gradually had assumed the role of tutor and Dutch uncle, conducting mini seminars on the knoll as he casually guided her through the terra incognita of philosophy and literature. He was a good uncle. He demanded nothing of her. He was always there for her, to give advice when asked for it or merely serve as a sounding board for her problems and ideas. And always encouraging. His opinion of her capabilities was always far more sanguine than hers. Where Lisl saw limits, Will saw endless possibilities.

Lisl liked to think that their relationship wasn't just a one-way street, that she gave something back. She wasn't sure why or how, but she sensed that Will had benefited almost as much as she from their interaction. He seemed far more at ease with the world and with himself since they'd first met. He'd been a bleak, melancholy, almost tortured man then. Now he could make jokes and even laugh. She hoped that had been at least partly her doing.

"Go for it," Will said.

"I don't know, Will. What will Everett think?"

"He'll think you're making a bid to get tenure in the department, just like he's doing. Nothing wrong with that. And why on earth should you defer to him? You both joined the department the same year. Even if you are younger, you're his equal in seniority, and you're his match—if not his better—in ability. And besides, you're a hell of a lot better-looking."

Lisl felt herself flushing. "Stop that. That's irrelevant."

"Of course it is. But no more so than any of those cop-outs you allow to hold you back. Go for it, Leese."

That was Uncle Will: supremely confident that she could attain any goal she set her sights on. Lisl wished she could buy into his unabashed enthusiasm for her abilities. But he didn't know the truth—that she was a fake. Sure, she'd earned her Ph.D. and managed to be the first woman accepted into Darnell's traditionally all-male department of mathematics, but Lisl was sure that some sort of fluke had let her slip past the review board, some sort of affirmative action thing that had opened the doors for her. She wasn't that good. Really.

And now Will was pushing her to try to move up in the department. The International Congress of Mathematicians was meeting in Palo Alto next spring. Ev Sanders was submitting a paper for presentation there. If it was accepted, he'd be the fair-haired boy in the department, a shoo-in for tenure. And tenure was getting harder to come by. Darnell had been tightening up on the number of tenured positions the past few years, and now that it was being called "the new Harvard of the South," the situation was sure to become even tighter. But John Manning had left his tenured professorship in the department last month to take, that position at Duke, which meant math had an open spot. If Lisl's paper was also accepted, Everett would no longer have the post position. And if Lisl's paper was accepted instead of Ev's…

"You really think I should?"

"No. I just like the sound of my own voice. Do it, dammitr

"All right! I will!"

"Good. See? Wasn't that easy?"

"Yeah. Sure. Easy for you. You don't have to deliver a paper."

"You'll do it."

"Uh-huh. Can I call you when I get stuck?"

"You can try."

"Oh, right. The man without a telephone. How could I forget."

Even after all this time, Lisl still could not get used to the idea that Will managed to live in the modern world without the benefit of a telephone. She realized no one would ever get rich as a groundskeeper, but the men had a union that had bargained them up to decent wages and good benefits. So Will's lack of a phone could not be due to a lack of money.

"You've got to get a phone, Will."

He finished off the last of his sub. "Not this again."

"I'm serious. A telephone is an essential tool of modern living."

"Maybe."

"And I know they've got phone lines out there on Postal Road." After realizing she had nothing to fear from him, Lisl had visited his home a number of times. He lived in an isolated cottage but it wasn't in the boonies. "What if I call the phone company for you. I'll even pay—"

"Forget it, Lisl."

She sensed from his tone that he wanted her to drop it but she couldn't. No phone… it was crazy. Unless…

"You're not one of those Luddite types, are you? You know, antitechnology?"

"Now, Leese, you know better than that. You've seen the place. I've got a TV, a radio, a microwave, even a computer." He looked at her. "I just don't want a phone."

"But why on earth not? Can't you give me a hint?"

"I simply do not want one. Can we leave it at that?"

His voice carried only mild annoyance, but his eyes surprised her. Just before he looked away, she could have sworn she caught a trace of the fear she had seen before.

"Sure," she said quickly, hiding her concern and the curiosity that burned inside her. "Consider it dropped. When I hear that my paper's been accepted, I'll let you know immediately—by carrier pigeon."

Will laughed. "You'd better drive right out and knock on my door. Promise?"

"Promise."

"What's up in the faculty world?" he said in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from the subject of telephones.

"Not much. Dr. Rogers is having his annual Welcome Back party Friday night and he invited me."

"He's in the psychology department, isn't he?"

"The chairman. The party's just for his department, but since I helped him out with some tricky math glitches he was having over the summer, he says I'm an honorary member. So I'm invited."

"And knowing you, you turned him down, right?"

"Wrong," she said, lifting her chin, glad to be able to surprise him. "I've decided to show up with bells on."

"Good for you. You need to get out more with the rest of the faculty instead of spending your free time with a broken-down groundskeeper."

"Right. You're positively decrepit, and intellectually backward as well."

Will glanced up at the faculty office building.

"Will Professor Sanders be going?"

"No. Why would—?" she began, then broke off as she caught his meaning. "Oh. Is he watching us again?"

"Yep. Having his after-lunch cigarettes."

Lisl glanced up at the second-floor window of Ev's office. No face was visible in the dark square, but at regular intervals a puff of white smoke would drift out through the screen.

Everett Sanders stared down at Lisl Whitman and the grounds-keeper as they sat together beneath the tree. They seemed to be staring back at him. But that could be no more than coincidence. He knew he was invisible to them when he stood this far back in his office.