A minute later they were seated at a small table, their coffee in front of them. Ben took a sip, then methodically added two and a half packets of sugar to it, followed by two-thirds of one small container of creamer.

“Is that the magic formula?” Hudson asked him, watching the procedure.

Ben, stirring the coffee, wasn’t sure how to respond. Was the man teasing him? Normally he would think so. But nothing he’d seen about Hudson so far led him to believe the man was one to make fun. Rather than retreat into silence, as he might otherwise do, he found himself making a joke. “I discovered it right after I figured out how to turn lead into gold,” he said dryly.

Hudson grinned. “I hope you don’t think I was making fun,” he said. “It’s just that it’s so exact.”

“Occupational hazard, I guess,” Ben said. He noticed that Hudson was waiting for further explanation. “I’m a scientist,” he said.

“Oh,” said Hudson. “That explains the Ed Ricketts thing too, then. I was wondering about that.”

Why didn’t you just ask? Ben thought, bemused. “I’m a marine biologist,” he told Hudson, saving the man from having to ask any more questions about the subject. “At Hopkins Marine Station.”

Hudson nodded, and Ben understood that the man had no idea what Hopkins was. It didn’t matter. They weren’t there to talk about him anyway.

“I was never good at science,” Hudson said. “Once, in chemistry class, I got the beakers mixed up and managed to create some sort of toxic fumes. Well, toxicish. Anyway, they had to evacuate the whole floor. Oh, and I almost failed biology because I wouldn’t dissect a frog. My father had to threaten the school with a lawsuit so that they’d let me write a paper instead. I still got a D.”

Ben didn’t know how to respond to this information. His conversations were generally limited to discussions of field reports and lab findings. It had been a long time since he’d been asked to comment on someone’s personal stories. He found himself looking into his coffee cup, unable to think of anything to say.

Hudson saved him by continuing to talk. “English was my thing,” he said. “Books. Words. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how elements formed compounds or whatever it is they do, but words made sense.”

“Which explains the Steinbeck thing,” said Ben, referencing Hudson’s earlier comment.

“Which explains the Steinbeck thing,” Hudson agreed, nodding. “Although I didn’t get interested in him until later. When I was a kid it was all Paul Zindel and Madeleine L’Engle. And, of course, Jackie Collins when no one was looking.”

“Of course,” said Ben, trying to remember if he knew who Jackie Collins was and failing.