Page 12 of The New Place

“I can’t believe it.”

“You find a place yet? You were looking for one, right?”

Ned keeps his smile fixed right where it is. Beverly here went to boarding school and just landed at Newbury, that university that has sat across the river Ned’s entire life, lording over the city from on high. She definitely never moved back in with her parents as an adult.

Though finally having a real paycheck, not the pittance he was paid for his graduate stipend, goes a long way toward easing the tickle of embarrassment that creeps up his spine. “Still with the folks.”

“Tough market?” Chris asks. “I imagine it’s a headache trying to find anything.”

“Real tough,” Ned agrees, like he’s even looked. Everything is expensive as hell, and for the first time in a good long while, Ned’s actually making a dent in his student loans.

And his credit card bill. And his car payment, too. And, and, and—yeah, a dent. A small one.

“Bev’s wife is a Realtor,” Chris says. “What do you think? Will Sandy have any leads for Ned?”

Free ones, Ned should specify. That would have to compete with already having space for Peggy and permission for Baxter, full furnishings, utilities included, and some damn good home cooking.

Yeah, Ned’s got it made living with Mom and Dad, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” he says.

He’s saved from having to scrounge up another comment to keep the silence from swamping over them again by a soft tap at the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve says as he eases the door open. He pauses on the threshold, looking curiously at Beverly. Probably wondering if Chris really scheduled his meeting with the faculty and then told an old friend to sure, stop on by at the same time, why not?

Welcome to Callahan, Ned thinks and grins at Steve. “We were just commiserating about the Boston housing market,” Ned says.

“Sandy, Beverly’s wife, is getting started selling properties in Boston,” Chris says. “They just moved up from Georgia.”

“Always a favorite topic,” Steve says. “Chris, your faculty are amazing. Just got to chat with everyone. Such a great chance to meet them all. Thank you.”

It’s been minutes, barely, so what Steve means is that everyone scattered to the wind as soon as Chris left, and Steve isn’t going to put up a stink in front of his potential new colleagues by delaying them from their evening plans. Yeah, he’ll fit in great here. Bummer that he’s leaving Adams, but he’ll do well with this crew at Callahan.

“How wonderful,” Chris says. “Steve, do you know Beverly? Bev, this is potentially our newest hire, and Steve, this is Beverly Jones, recently of Newbury University.”

“And familiar with realty, I hear,” Steve says. “So nice to meet you. Now let me ask: If I list a house I absolutely don’t want to sell, what’re the chances I won’t get the door knocked down with offers flooding in?”

“These days?” Beverly asks. “From what I hear, get ready to receive some flower bouquets and gift baskets full of fancy jams.”

“See, that’s the problem right there. Apparently, we’re putting my grandmother’s place up for sale this spring. And by we, I mean my siblings, their spouses, and my wife. I think we should keep it and rent it out, but I got outvoted.”

“It’s going to fly as soon as you list it,” Beverly says.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Steve says.

“Well, you won’t want to be saddled with property all the way down in Boston when you’re up here,” Chris says.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, hope clear on his face.

“I’d love to have you, certainly,” Chris says. “So why not celebrate? Bev’s coming over for dinner, and surely you’ll join us.”

Us. Chris is looking at Ned and Abbot too, not just Steve.

Oh hell no. Steve might have to play nice to land this job, but Ned drove up here with a particular goal in mind, and that’s spending as many hours in bed with Abbot as he possibly can before he has to leave in the morning. Dinner with Chris and Susan and this Beverly? And with Abbot so quiet and uncomfortable?

That’s a big No thanks. “So kind of you,” Ned says with all the enthusiasm he can put into his smile. “But we can’t make it tonight. I’m so sorry.”

“Join us for a drink, at least,” Chris says. “Henry, you have to hear about Newbury.”

“Newbury?” Steve asks.