“Dr. Rebecca Knight, please.”
She stiffened, then ordered herself to relax. Why should it surprise, even annoy her, that her voice hadn’t been recognized? “This is Rebecca. Hello, Mother.”
“Rebecca, I had to go through your service to track you down. I assumed you were in New York.”
“No, I’m not.” She heard the door open and worked up a casual, if stiff, smile for Shane. “I’m spending some time in Maryland.”
“A lecture tour? I hadn’t heard.”
“No, I’m not on a lecture tour.” She could easily visualize her mother flipping through her Filofax to note it down. “I’m…doing research.”
“In Maryland. On what subject?”
“The Battle of Antietam.”
“Ah. That’s been covered very adequately, don’t you think?”
“I’m coming from a different angle.” She made way so that Shane could get to the coffee, but didn’t look at him. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Actually, there’s something I can do for you. Where in the world are you staying, Rebecca? It’s very inconvenient that you didn’t leave word. I need a fax number.”
“I’m staying with a friend.” She turned her back, avoiding Shane’s eyes. “I don’t have a fax here.”
“Surely you have access to one. You’re not in the Dark Ages.”
Now she did glance at Shane. He smelled of the earth, and carried a good bit of it on his person. “Not exactly,” Rebecca said dryly. “I’ll have to check on that and get back to you. Are you in Connecticut?”
“Your father is. I’m at a seminar in Atlanta. You can reach me through the Ritz-Carlton.”
“All right. Can I ask what this is about?”
“It’s quite an opportunity. The head of the history department at my alma mater is retiring at the end of this semester. With your credentials and my connections, I don’t see that you’d have any difficulty getting the position. There’s talk of endowing a chair. It would be quite a coup, given your age. At twenty-four, I believe you’d be the youngest department head ever placed there.”
“I was twenty-five last March, Mother.”
“Nonetheless, it would still be a coup.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would, but I’m not interested.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rebecca.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. That tone, that quick, dismissive tone, had whipped her along the path chosen for her all her life. It took a hard, wrenching effort for her to stand her ground.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to be.” And where had that cold, sarcastic voice come from? Rebecca wondered. “I don’t want to teach, Mother.”
“Teaching is the least of it, Rebecca, as you’re quite aware. The position itself—”
“I don’t want to be the dean of history, or the history chair, anywhere.” She had to interrupt quickly, recognizing the old, familiar roiling in her stomach. “But thank you for thinking of me.”
“I’m not happy with your attitude, Rebecca. You are obligated to use your gifts, and the opportunities your father and I have provided for you. An advancement of this stature will make your career.”
“Whose career?”
There was a sigh. Long-suffering. “Obviously you’re in a difficult mood, and I can see that gratitude won’t be forthcoming. I’ll depend on your good sense, however. Get me your fax number as soon as possible. I’m a bit rushed at the moment, but I’ll expect to hear from you by the morning. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Mother.”
She hung up and smiled at Shane brightly, over-brightly, while the muscles in her stomach clenched and knotted. “Well, cows all bedded down?”