His office was little more than a cubbyhole, cluttered with books and journals and test papers waiting to be graded. Tenure, Jake thought. If I get tenure they’ll move me to a bigger office, maybe the one in the corner that old Likiovick occupies. He’ll be retiring next year. Yeah, like I’ve got a chance for tenure. In another five years, maybe.

Then his eye caught on the photo of Louise framed on the corner of his desk. Louise. She was smiling at him, that warm, happy smile of hers. Like sunshine. Like wonderful, glorious sunshine.

He turned to look at the office’s only window. It was still raining hard. No sunshine out there.

A single knock on his door made him spin around. The woman from Tomlinson’s party stepped into his office.

“Dr. Ross?” she asked, with a tentative smile.

He sprang to his squishy-wet feet and desperately tried to remember her name. Amy something …

“Ms.… uh, Waxman?”

“Wexler.” She stepped into the office.

“Wexler,” Jake said. “Of course. Amy Wexler.”

“That’s right.”

She was wearing a short skirt that showed her long legs to good advantage. A dripping folded umbrella in one hand and a pocket-sized leather purse in the other. Her blond hair was pinned up, piled artfully on her head, off her graceful neck.

There was only one other chair in the office and a pile of astronomy journals was stacked on it. Jake hurried around his desk, banging a shin in the process, and scooped the journals up.

“Have a seat,” he said. “You can just prop your umbrella against the bookcase by the door.”

She looked doubtful. “It’ll drip on the floor.”

“That’s okay.” He was standing close enough to catch the fragrance of her perfume. Light, flowery. Her blouse was starched white, almost a man’s shirt, but it looked awfully fine on her. So many of the students dress like refugees from a Dumpster, he thought; it’s good to see a woman make herself look attractive.

Amy Wexler sat on the wooden chair and Jake retreated back behind his desk.

“Mr. Tomlinson sent you?” he asked as he sat down. The chair started to roll, but Jake grabbed the edge of his desk with one hand to stop it.

“Not really,” she replied.

“Oh?”

She smiled again, brighter. “I just thought that if you and I are going to be working on Franklin’s campaign, we ought to get to know each other.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, we’d work together much better if we weren’t strangers, wouldn’t we?”

Jake nodded. “That makes sense.”

“So … what are you up to? Have you zeroed in on an issue that Franklin can use?”

Jake realized he was biting his lip. Forcing a smile, he said, “I think maybe I have, but it’s going to take a little more study before I can tell for sure.”

She waited for him to go on.