There was a large floral arrangement in the center of his desk, with a sympathy card signed by all fourteen students in his antitrust class. Each had written a small paragraph of condolences, and he read them all. Beside the flowers was a stack of cards from his colleagues on the faculty.
Word spread fast that he was back, and throughout the morning the same colleagues dropped by with a quick hello, welcome back, sorry about your loss. For the most part the faculty was a close group. They could bicker with the best of them on the trivial issues of campus politics, but they were quick to circle the wagons in times of need. Ray was very happy to see them. Alex Duffman's wife sent a platter of her infamous chocolate brownies, each weighing a pound and proven to add three more to your waist. Naomi Kraig brought a small collection of roses she'd picked from her garden.
Late in the morning Carl Mirk stopped by and closed the door. Ray's closest friend on the faculty, his journey to the law school had been remarkably similar. They were the same age, and both had fathers who were small-town judges who'd ruled their lit-de counties for decades. Carl's father was still on the bench, and still holding a grudge because his son did not return to practice law in the family firm. It appeared, though, that the grudge was fading with the years, whereas Judge Atlee apparently carried his to his death.
"Tell me about it," Carl said. Before long he would make the same trip back to his hometown in northern Ohio.
Ray began with the peaceful house, too peaceful, he recalled now. He described the scene when he found the Judge.
"You found him dead?" Carl asked. The narrative continued, then, "You think he speeded things up a bit?"
"I hope so. He was in a lot of pain."
"Wow."
The story unfolded in great detail, as Ray remembered things he had not thought about since last Sunday. The words poured forth, the telling became therapeutic. Carl was an excellent listener.
Forrest and Harry Rex were colorfully described. "We don't have characters like that in Ohio," Carl said. When they told their small-town stories, usually to colleagues from the cities, they stretched the facts and the characters became larger. Not so with Forrest and Harry Rex. The truth was sufficiently colorful.
The wake, the funeral, the burial. When Ray closed with "Taps" and the lowering of the casket, both had moist eyes. Carl bounced to his feet and said, "What a great way to go. I'm sorry."
“Just glad it's over."
"Welcome back. Let's do lunch tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?"
"Friday"
"Lunch it is."
For his noon antitrust class, Ray ordered pizzas from a carry-out and ate them outside in the courtyard with his students. Thirteen of the fourteen were there. Eight would be graduating in two weeks. The students were more concerned about Ray and the death of his father than about their final exams. He knew that would change quickly. -
When the pizza was gone, he dismissed them and they scattered. Kaley lingered behind, as she had been doing in the past months. There was a rigid no-fly zone between faculty and students, and Ray Atlee was not about to venture into it. He was much too content with his job to risk it fooling around with a student. In two weeks, though, Kaley would no longer be a student, but a graduate, and thus not covered by the rules. The flirting had picked up a bit - a serious question after class, a drop-in at his office to get a missed assignment, and always that smile with the eyes that lingered for just a second too long.
She was an average student with a lovely face and a rear-end that stopped traffic. She had played field hockey and lacrosse at Brown and kept a lean athletic figure. She was twenty-eight, a widow with no kids and loads of money she'd received from the company that made the glider her deceased husband had been flying when it cracked up a few miles off the coast at Cape Cod. They found him in sixty feet of water, still strapped in, both wings snapped in two. Ray had researched the accident report online.
He'd also found the court file in Rhode Island where she had sued. The settlement gave her four million up front and five hundred thousand a year for the next twenty years. He had kept this information to himself.
After chasing the boys for the first two years of law school, >he was now chasing the men. Ray knew of at least two other law professors who were getting the same lingering routine as he. One just happened to be married. Evidently, all were as wary as Ray.
They strolled into the front entrance of the law school, chatting aimlessly about the final exam. She was easing closer with each flirtation, warming up to the zone, the only one who knew where ate might be headed with this.
"I'd like to go flying sometime," she announced.
Anything but flying. Ray thought of her young husband and his horrible death, and for a second could think of nothing to say. Finally, with a smile he said, "Buy a ticket."
"No, no, with you, in a small plane. Let's fly somewhere."
"Anyplace in particular?"
“Just buzz around for a while. I'm thinking of taking lessons."
"I was thinking of something more traditional, maybe lunch or dinner, after you graduate." She had stepped closer, so that anyone who walked by at that moment would have no doubt that they, student and professor, were discussing illicit activity.
"I graduate in fourteen days," she said, as if she might not be able to wait that long before they hopped in the sack.
"Then I'll ask you to dinner in fifteen days."
"No, let's break the rule now, while I'm still a student. Let's have dinner before I graduate."
He almost said yes. "Afraid not. The law is the law. We're here because we respect it."
"Oh yes. It's so easy to forget. But we have a date?"
"No, we will have a date."
She flashed another smile and walked away. He tried mightily not to admire her exit, but it was impossible.
THE RENTED van came from a moving company north of town, sixty dollars a day. He tried f............