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.But most of the important stuff was in his head.I mean, I could walk in and ask him, say, ‘Where’s that article that appeared in the Hampshire Gazette in 1878?’ And he knew exactly what I meant and could put his hand on it like that.He had his own peculiar logic, but it worked for him.”“Did he give you much feedback on your work?” Bree tossed out.“Quite a bit, actually.I was surprised.He always made time for me, and I could tell he’d read what I’d given him.So I knew he took his role on the committee seriously.Which was great for me.I mean, the man knew everything there was about Emily Dickinson.”“So what did you hope to add to the body of knowledge with your thesis? It has to explore something new, right?” Meg asked.“Yes,” Susan agreed.“Scholars are always reinterpreting, you know? I mean, we can only understand a work of art through the biases of our own culture and time, and those are always changing.There are lots of new avenues to follow, even with someone as well known and well studied as Emily—her physical problems, or her psychological issues.Was she going blind? Was she depressed, or bipolar, or agoraphobic? I’ve read articles discussing all of these things.”Meg was impressed.“Wow.I hadn’t thought about it like that.Will Daniel’s death make things more difficult for you?”Susan shrugged.“I’d finished most of the research, and now all I’ve got left is to write the thing.I think he would have been a big help in shaping my arguments.He was great at talking through a lot of things.I’ll miss him.” Tears welled again, and she looked away.Meg glanced at her mother.Time to change the subject.“Did Mother tell you what we’re looking for? Did you think Daniel was particularly excited lately?”“He’d been really up, you know? I kind of figured he thought he was onto something new, but he didn’t share it with me.I mean, why would he? I’m just a student, and he was the big important scholar.But he was like a kid, and he kept dropping hints.”“Weren’t you curious?” Meg prompted.“Sure, but I figured I’d find out eventually.”“But he hinted to Kenneth Henderson that he had some surprise,” Elizabeth said, almost to herself.Susan laughed briefly.“That doesn’t mean much.He and Professor Henderson were always trying to outdo each other—you can see it if you look at the literature.So it was the professor who put you onto this hunt?”“Yes, he brought it up.”“Maybe Daniel was just yanking Professor Henderson’s chain.”“Do you really think so?” Elizabeth said.Susan shrugged.“I don’t know.I know they’ve been after each other for years now.I heard at a conference once that Professor Henderson thought that Daniel had taken one of his ideas and rushed it into print, and he wasn’t too happy about that.It’s still ‘publish or perish’ in academia, but Professor Henderson would have looked like a sore loser if he’d made a public stink.So he just swallowed it, but he was real careful about what he said around Daniel after that.”“My, this all sounds so competitive,” Elizabeth observed.Susan nodded.“It is, pretty much.Even with tenure, professors are vulnerable now.And they know there are plenty of grad students like me who would love to have their jobs, for a lot less pay.I’m sorry Daniel’s dead, but to be honest, it’s mostly for selfish reasons.I really could have used his recommendation when I start job hunting.” Susan turned to Meg and abruptly changed the subject.“Your mother says this house dates to the 1700s.Would you mind showing me the rest of it? I love this time period, you know.”Elizabeth stood up.“Meg, why don’t you give her a tour while I clean up? And I’ll dish out dessert.”Meg led Susan to the dining room.“From what I’ve learned, the house was built by Stephen Warren in the 1760s, when he first settled in Granford.Not long after that one of his sons built the house next door.The same family lived here continuously until about twenty years ago, which is kind of remarkable.”“Great woodwork,” Susan said, eyeing the wainscoting.“It’s all original?”“That part is, but the door and window moldings were replaced during a remodeling in the mid-nineteenth century.The grandson of the original builder was a carpenter.They actually had a small sawmill out back, between the two houses.And plenty of available lumber—there are still some old-growth trees out there, across the meadow.”“Wow.How’d you learn all this? Your mother said you just moved here this year, right?”“Gail Selden at the Granford Historical Society has been helping me do the research, and I’m returning the favor by doing some cataloging for her.They’ve got some wonderful resources for local history, but it’s hard for the public to get at them because they’re not cataloged.”“I know what you’re saying—cataloging’s a challenge at any institution, and even if they have the information, sometimes it’s next to useless.Like the file will say, ‘Documents.’ Could be anything, from a copy of the Declaration of Independence to receipts for hay.”“Exactly.” Meg laughed.“I’ll bet you have a lot more interesting stories than I do, since you must spend a lot more time working with original documents.Now, here in the hallway, I think Eli Warren replaced the stair rail—it’s definitely not from the colonial period.” Meg continued the tour, and Susan asked some intelligent questions about construction and architectural history, many of which Meg couldn’t answer.Susan seemed interested in every nook and cranny, but Meg drew the line at showing her the basement, particularly after dark.They returned to the kitchen to find warm apple cake and coffee waiting.Bree had disappeared, and Elizabeth was wiping off the countertops.“Great house!” Susan said.“A real sense of history, and you can feel the hands of the people who lived here.Do you have a time line for them?”“Mother’s been looking into that,” Meg said, taking a forkful of cake.“I really haven’t had much time lately, since this is harvest season.I do know they’re all in the local cemetery.I visit them now and then.Is that weird?”Susan shrugged.“Emily spent her life with a view of the cemetery where she’d be buried.I think it’s kind of nice that you remember your ancestors.”“Heck, I’m still just getting to know them.” Meg stifled a yawn.How could she wrap this evening up and send Susan on her way home without being rude? She decided that being direct was the simplest course.“Susan, do you have any idea who would have wanted Daniel Weston dead? Kenneth Henderson? Someone on the faculty?”“I’ve met him once or twice, and I can’t see Professor Henderson resorting to actual violence.He might have sniped at Daniel in person or even in print, but they’ve been going on like that for years.”“By the way, which side won the Dickinson versus Whitman debate at the symposium?”Susan smiled briefly.“Who do you think? We’re talking about Amherst.The deck was stacked from the beginning, even without Daniel.Or maybe as a tribute to him.”“Would that be enough to drive Kenneth to murder?” Meg asked.“I don’t think so,” Susan replied.“He must have known what the outcome would be.”“What about Daniel’s wife?” Elizabeth said suddenly.Susan turned to her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]