“And operating expenses—we need those for copiers and paper and keeping the students in electricity and toilet paper and chili mac, right? All GWGW is talking about doing is taking a tour, meeting some of our students, and suggesting—just suggesting—some techniques and strategies that might help us. That might help our students. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“I guess not.”

“Then, let’s just try it, okay?” he said. “We’re doing something completely new here, and people are gonna want to help us. They’re gonna want to get involved. We have the power to say yes or no. It’s up to us.” He told her what Mark told him—that some investors and curricular experts from GWGW would be there in a day or two, touring the campus and assessing how they might help—without mentioning his suspicion that Mark was just profiteering. He made their visit sound the way Mark made it sound to him—like an honor and a favor both—and the more he talked about it, the more he believed it.

They turned back without reaching the pier. As they made their way up the path to school, Eric felt Marianne leaning into him. The heavy phone bumped against his side, but she didn’t mention it. She stopped before they reached the end of the mangroves, while they were still—promisingly—alone.

“I should give you your jacket back.”

“Keep it. It looks good on you,” he said, though it was his only nice jacket and far too big on her. She shrugged her arms out of the sleeves so it hung loosely on her, like a cape. Eric felt the awkwardness before a first kiss, the magnetic pull of two faces, the anxiety of possible rejection. It was his favorite part—one of his favorite parts, anyway—of a relationship, something he’d missed out on, in his drunken, grad-student boldness, with Marianne. Maybe that had been their problem.

He cupped the back of Marianne’s head and stroked her long neck with his thumb. He was about to kiss her when they were interrupted by a loud splash and hooting, far up the darkened path.

“We should go before someone spots us,” she whispered. “You should check on them.”

“What could they be doing that needs checking? It’s not like we told them not to use the pool.”

“People already think we’re a thing.” She was still whispering. “A couple.”

“So? It’s not like the Bible says people can’t date each other.”

“What do you know about the Bible?” Marianne slid out of his jacket and folded it over his arm. She held her hand there a moment, and Eric felt its warmth through the scratchy tweed. Then she reached inside the pocket and pulled out the smartphone. “I didn’t know you had one of these.”