“If I give enough money, could you hire someone to catalog my papers and get them done sooner?” He frowned. “I don’t want them sitting in boxes, gathering dust.”

“Yes,” I replied. “We have a tiny budget, and we rely on donations.”

“How much?”

“How many papers are we talking about?” I pointed to a nearby box, roughly the size of a box of computer paper. “How many boxes of stuff?”

Godfrey stared at the box. After a moment, he answered. “There are manuscripts of all my novels, and I’ve published twenty-three. Then there’s correspondence, plus copies of my books, in English and other languages.” He paused. “Say fifty-four boxes.”

That was oddly precise, I thought. Had he already boxed everything? He would never imagine the university would turn down his gift.

“And you would continue to add to it,” I said, doing some mental calculations.

“Sure,” Godfrey said. “I’ll be writing for a long time to come, knock on wood.” He rapped my desk with his knuckles.

I found a pad and pencil and made some rough calculations. I named a figure, and Godfrey didn’t blink.

“Sounds good,” he replied. “I’ll double it, just to be safe. That should take care of things for a few years, right?”

“Yes,” I said. Hearing the voice of my boss in my head, I added something, though I didn’t like doing it. “And of course you might want to put a bequest in your will, too. It never hurts.”

Godfrey laughed. “You have to say that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to suppress a sour expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. People are holding their hands out for money all the time.” He grinned. “I’ll call my lawyer this afternoon and take care of it.”

“You’ll need to talk to some of the administrative people tonight after you make your announcement,” I said.

He nodded.

I thought our business was done, but Godfrey didn’t move from the chair.

I waited a moment.

“You’re living in Miss Dottie’s house, huh?” Godfrey said.

“Yes.”

“Are you taking in student boarders like she did?” He stared past me at the window where Diesel still slept.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s what she wanted, and it’s not so bad having someone in the house, now that my own two children are grown and out of the nest.”

“You have two kids?” Godfrey glanced at me, an odd look on his face.

“A son and a daughter,” I replied. “Sean is twenty-seven, and Laura is twenty-three.”

“That’s nice,” Godfrey said, his voice soft. “Having kids, I mean.”

Maybe I had accomplished something Godfrey hadn’t. As far as I knew, he didn’t have any children. I was lucky, even if I wasn’t a rich writer.

Godfrey shifted in his chair. “What are the boarders like, the ones living there now?”