“I’m Simon Farrow,” he replied. “And I’m pleased you were able to join our rather grim group. You’ve been a welcome breath of fresh air.”
Izzy must not have seen Professor Farrow enter the auditorium, but Olivia was pleased that he could attend. She’d imagined him to be a weightier man, staunchly gray and dull from years of study, but fire sparked in the eyes of this younger gentleman, only a few years past thirty. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been wrong about things unseen. “Apparently, it was my job to balance out the academic set.”
Professor Farrow laughed. “Sometimes scholars need to be knocked right off their balance.”
She smiled. The man before her must be wise beyond his years, an athlete with his sturdy frame as well as a scholar. She applauded him for refusing to squander his youth, persevering with his studies through the Depression years. So many in his generation didn’t understand the wealth of knowledge nor had they, after the violent market crash, the opportunity to pursue academia. Pennsylvania’s economy was recoveringwith Roosevelt’s New Deal, men from across the state constructing the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but many families still struggled.
“Thank you for inviting me.” She eyed the clock again, anxious to be on her way. “It was a pleasure to meet you and some of your students. Their questions brushed away some of the dust in my head.”
His eyebrows arched, as if surprised that she’d enjoyed her time. Then they relaxed with a smile. “You’re not old enough to be gathering dust.”
“The flattery is appreciated, Professor Farrow, but I assure you I’ve accumulated plenty over the years.”
He scanned the empty hall. “You must be famished after that whole affair.”
She was hungry, the lunch meal long forgotten. “I’ll eat on the train.”
“If you’re able to stay a little longer”—he waved toward the side door—“would you accompany me to dinner?”
She hesitated, taken aback by the offer. No man had invited her to dinner since Graham’s death. Did the professor know she was a widow?
Then again, it was probably professional courtesy after a Winfield lecture. Perhaps the other panelists had neglected to extend her an invitation as they gathered at a local restaurant. It was thoughtful of the professor to fulfill this obligation, but she’d release him from his duty.
“It’s kind of you to offer, but I’m afraid I can’t.”
He looked crestfallen. “I never should have read that review.”
“It’s not that—”
“I meant to demonstrate the ineptness of the reviewer, not criticize the integrity of your work.”
“I’m rarely daunted by reviews, professor, but my aunt is ill. I need to return home right away.”
His dismay turned to concern. “I’m sorry to hear about your aunt.”
She checked her watch. “I have a seat on the nine o’clock.”
Which was leaving in a half hour.
“Perhaps I can—”
“Mrs. Belle.” Dr. Kinsley joined them, sweat pooling on his forehead. “Are you ready to leave for the station?”
“I am.”
Professor Farrow lifted her satchel. “I’d be happy to escort you.”
“Thank you, Simon.” Dr. Kinsley took the suitcase. “But it’s my responsibility to oversee transportation for our guests.”
The two men stared at each other like opponents in a fighting ring. One who had invited her to speak on the panel, the other who led the discussion.
Why were they at odds?
Professor Farrow looked like he might insist on driving, and then what would she do? She had no knowledge or authority to navigate between them.
Another student joined them onstage, cupping his hand over Dr. Kinsley’s ear to deliver a message.
“I’ll return in a moment.” Dr. Kinsley stepped away to follow the student. “Please wait for me.”
