“And she keeps time like one,” said Lilian. “Tad Tucker is a crook. My husband’s colleague treated the boy who was injured at one of his batting cages. He has permanent brain damage, that’s what I heard.”

“At least he got treatment,” said Janine quietly. She couldn’t help herself. “My husband used to listen to Tad Tucker on the radio. I don’t think he’s so bad.”

“He’s a right-wing nut,” said Lilian. “Didn’t you see Patty’s Facebook posts?”

Janine looked at Maggie, who shrugged. “I’m not a Tad Tucker fan myself,” Maggie said.

“We all had to apply,” Manfred sniffed.

“Did you see that the protesters are back this morning?” asked Julia, the woman with the knitting. A long red scarf trailed from her lap to the floor; she kept her eyes on what the needles were doing, so it was hard to read how she felt about Tad Tucker or the protesters. Janine wondered if obscuring your feelings about a topic was one of the benefits of knitting.

Had anyone heard about Tucker’s connection to GWGW? someone asked. That was sure an interesting story, someone else replied. What about the online sonography school? Had anyone talked to the protesters, who were back, and sitting just steps away from the office? No, no one had approached the protesters, though it was odd the way they had set up their lawn chairs facing the Ranch, as if they were waiting for a show. Better to ignore them than to try to get involved, to find out what they want. They all agreed that it was a blessing that Tad Tucker was a fiction writer and not a poet, that their own workshop would not be affected by any scandal. Was he staying on campus? Probably not, they decided. Too low-rent for somebody like that.

Lorraine arrived at 10:15—she was punctual in her lateness, Janine had noticed—and handed around a survey. “I don’t understand why they need to know these things,” she said, pacing the front of the room as the class answered questions about their television habits, their favorite movies, their household incomes and education levels, which internet provider they used, and how they felt about the webinars they had taken.

Lilian was still finishing her survey when Lorraine snatched it away. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, shuffling it into her pile. “Did you all take the web classes?”

They murmured unenthusiastic assent.

Maggie raised her hand. “Why didn’t you teach any of the webinars, Ms. Kominski?”

“I would have no idea how to do that,” Lorraine said. “The topics were all beyond my area of expertise.”

“They didn’t seem to be about writing,” Janine offered. “They were more about business topics. How to earn a living.”

“This is all nonsense. Come on, we’re going for a walk. Bring a chair if you don’t like sitting on the ground.”