Page 11 of The New Place

“Sure am.” Ned’s hand presses Abbot’s back. “I do have to be properly pedantic as only Bostonians can, and remind you all that Newbury is technically across the river in Cambridge.”

“Steve said ‘wicked’ just now when he came in,” Chris says. “Did you hear that, Henry?”

“True Boston man,” Ned says after a beat of silence.

“Soooo,” Chris says. “I have given Beverly my blessing, Henry.”

“And I heard from your dad how much time you’re spending in Boston these days,” Beverly says.

“She has a position for you,” Chris says. “For the fall.” He’s smiling, and she is too.

Abbot stiffens. He can feel his father’s fingers in this. Is this what he wanted to talk about? All those conversations Abbot dodged while he was at home?

“At Newbury?” Ned asks, his voice rising.

“Yes. In our sociology department,” Beverly says. “I have some retirements coming up, and I talked to the department chair. I have a tenure track opening for you.”

“Newbury,” Ned whispers.

Abbot steps back, but Ned’s hand is there, stilling him. No. Abbot doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want Beverly here, doesn’t want Newbury University if it comes with her, even if it’s closer to Ned.

And he certainly doesn’t want his father involving himself in his life.

Most of all, he doesn’t want the question in Ned’s eyes, the envelope he still holds, and the curiosity on Ned’s face.

4

NED

Newbury University, handed on a silver platter to Abbot. Damn. Damn.

But Abbot just stands there as the silence stretches. And stretches.

“So are you new to the Boston area?” Ned asks to fill the gap where Abbot should be saying thank you.

“Oh, no, I grew up just outside of the city,” Beverly says, apparently happy to make small talk and not comment on Abbot standing stiff as a board, his thumb pressed so hard to his index finger that his nail bed is turning white.

“Well, you know all about the particulars of Cambridge versus Boston, then. I grew up in the city, and I still live there, actually, just across the river from Newbury.” Just across it and then away from the water a good many blocks. A neighborhood where the houses are reasonably sized, not the monstrosity of mansions that surround Newbury University and sit on that riverfront property near it.

This Beverly person is really something, to be a dean there. Of the entire liberal arts college, too. Trust Abbot’s father to have a friend of this caliber.

“Good old Newton girl myself,” Beverly says.

“Not the Newton Tigers. I lost too many games to them growing up. High school baseball, mostly. That was pretty rough.”

Beverly offers a soft smile. “I actually went to boarding school.”

Ah. She’s that type of family from Newton. Of course she is. Ned should’ve guessed. “Well, good thing then, because I was definitely not at all responsible for finally beating you guys in football. More of a soccer guy myself, for a fall sport,” Ned says lightly. He smooths his hand down Abbot’s back to see if any of the tension has eased.

No, not a bit. Who the hell is this lady? Friend of the family, Chris had said, and she came bearing a job offer and an envelope Abbot had stared at like it was a ticking bomb.

Though any conversation with a mention of Abbot’s father heads into dire straits sooner or later. Ned turns to Chris to give Abbot another minute to come back to himself. “Chris, how are you?” Ned asks. “Haven’t seen you in a minute. You have a good holidays?”

“Absolutely lovely, but just so nice to be back to the semester. How are you? How’s work? And how’s little Peggy?”

“Not so little anymore. Halfway through first grade.”

“Already?”