He looked at her, then at the screen. Although it was possible he’d left the paper open in some task bar on his computer, he couldn’t imagine she’d read much of the fifty-page document, unless she’d been awake much longer than he’d thought. He wasn’t surprised she’d found it interesting. Even though most people glazed over a bit when he told them his focus—the Revolutionary War era and the interrelationships among the Founders—he knew that the paper on the computer screen between them was something different. As he’d told that narcissist Adrian, Charles’s research, his discovery, was certain to make worldwide news. No matter what journal he sent it to, once it was out in the world, he was certain it would find its way into the mainstream. For a history professor, it was a once-in-a-lifetime shot. Which was probably why he hadn’t already published the paper; in fact, the only people who’d seen it, other than this woman who had picked him up the night before, were the handful of Revolutionary War obsessives who frequented an obscure Reddit chat stream he’d started a few months earlier. He’d just posted the synopsis the morning before to see what they thought. He hadn’t yet logged on again to see the response, but he was certain the four or five followers of the subreddit he’d gathered over the months would have a lot to say. People who dreamt about the works and deeds of Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin were easily incited.

“I’ve always been fascinated by Revolutionary War heroes,” she continued. “Men like Patrick Henry, George Washington, and of course, Paul Revere.”

Charles swirled the coffee in the mug with a shake of his wrist.

“Revere wasn’t actually a war hero,” he said, feeling the need to correct her. “Though he is, arguably, the most famous name of the period, especially in this region. But the tourists who regularly visit his carefully preserved house in the North End, or his gravestone in the Granary Burying Ground by Downtown Crossing, have no idea who he really was.”

If she had read through the paper on the computer, or much of it, she must have gathered that Charles was arguably the foremost Revere scholar in the country—or at least, one of two. His memory of the night before was sketchy, but that might even have come up in conversation. It wasn’t his best opening line, and it tended to land pretty flat, but he usually dropped it at some point. Although to be fair, last night she’d done most of the talking, while he’d done most of the staring.