The schools, the labs, had eventually run together, leaving no time for teenage rites of passage like earning a license.

When she lived with Nathan, he had refused her request to take classes. He preferred that she depend on him for transportation, for everything.

As though aware of the dark thoughts closing in on her, ones she didn’t understand, Genevieve offered gently, “If you really want to learn, maybe we can do a lesson this weekend. But it will have to be in my brother’s car. You’re not getting behind the wheel of my precious Audi.” She stroked the dashboard lovingly.

Erin nodded as they got out of the car. “I’d like that, Genevieve. Thank you.”

“So, no shopping.”

Hearing the longing, she relented. “Shopping today, driving lesson tomorrow.” Erin tucked her briefcase firmly under her arm. Together they walked to the building. “Hopefully, you teach more safely than you drive.”

“You’ll see,” Genevieve teased. “I’ll meet you at my office at one.” With a friendly wave, she sailed down the hallway to her office.

Erin headed for her office, her heels echoing in the nearly empty corridor. In ten minutes, students would fill the space, eager to finish tests and head off for the summer.

At her office door, Erin turned the knob and entered.

And jumped. “Oh!”

Erin looked down at Jessica, her teaching assistant, who sat in the single office chair that faced the desk. The computer screen was filled with text.

“Dr. Abbott, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Erin set her briefcase on the credenza. “You just startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Jessica apologized as she cleared the screen. “I’ve been working on this for hours, trying to get a jump on my project. You said you didn’t mind if I used your computer. The one in the TA office is on the mend. Again. Someone downloaded a virus from the Net.”

Jessica popped the CD from the drive and came from around the desk. In the cramped quarters of her office, Erin bumped against a sheaf of papers stacked on the desk’s surface. The pile tumbled to the carpet in a flurry of white.

Jessica quickly knelt to gather the scattered pages, and Erin bent down to help.

“I’ve got it, Dr. Abbott.” Jessica hurriedly shuffled pages into a pile. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“No problem.” Erin shifted to help. “I remember dissertation proposal time. Back then, though, we used a chisel and hammer to etch out our papers on slabs of granite.”

Jessica chuckled appreciatively. “You’re funny, Dr. Abbott. I don’t care what the students say.” The TA glanced up, her mouth a moue of embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Uh, the students love you.”