Page 29 of The New Place

“He has to be,” Steve says. “Ned, I don’t officially know anything, but there’s going to be a lot of professors on the market, and soon. If Henry gets an offer, he needs to take it, if Boston is where he wants to be. And Ned, like I told you: You do, too.”

“I love Adams. I’m not leaving.” Abbot could still apply, even if Steve’s job isn’t available, if he’s really serious about being ready to leave Callahan and Portland. Which was a later sort of thing, Ned had figured, but apparently Abbot’s decided that now is as good as ever. What university would turn him down? It’s Ned they took a chance on, and who has years of work ahead of him before making tenure.

Yeah, probably better if he doesn’t show up late to a meeting at the beginning of his second semester, out of breath from having to run from the parking lot.

Shirt. Did he bring a shirt? Yes, he did, and oh hell does it need to be ironed too.

“Ned,” Steve says. “Ah, fuck. This sucks to have to say, but listen. Next year, Adams won’t be here.”

Ned stops with his shirt raised, ready to shake out the wrinkles as best he can. “What?”

“Which you did not hear, let alone from me,” Steve says. “But like I said, tell Henry to clinch that job, because the market’s about to be swamped, and there’s going to be one fewer university around.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I wish. I don’t want to move, and neither does Jess.”

“Adams isn’t closing. It’s been around forever, and they’re taking applicants for students next year.”

“The endowment is gone. There’s going to be an investigation into the financial management.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means my wife got cc’d on an email because of a typo this past fall, and there have been unauthorized withdrawals from already struggling funds. That’s the whole story, as much as we know, at least. The board has been scrambling, and the administration is trying to save face, but a lot of money went somewhere, and nobody knows where it is.”

“That can’t have happened. Isn’t there oversight? And how does Jess really know?”

“Look, we have little kids too, right? We had to make a decision, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell everyone in the department, but I’m telling you now. This is all going to come out in the open at some point, probably soon. And like I said: Tell Henry to take that job. Ideally before this news breaks and the hiring market goes to hell.”

“Steve—”

“So go with him to Newbury, if you can swing it.”

“Me? I can’t, no way.”

“Then get on the job hunt yourself,” Steve says. “Listen, I gotta go. Sorry to dump this on you first thing this morning.”

“Wait—”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Bye.”

Ned slowly lowers the phone, staring down at Call Ended glaring across the screen.

This has to be some sort of prank. Not that he’s ever known Steve to have that sort of sense of humor. And it’s a hell of a commitment to a bit, to drive up to Portland to meet with the faculty at Callahan last night.

But still. Steve can’t be serious. Right?

Ned remembers his hurry only when his screen darkens, rousing himself out of his confusion to yank on his shirt.

He didn’t shave, he realizes too late, and there’s no time to do it now. Hopefully the stubble will look intentional, and if not, then at least less like the mess he feels he is, finger-combing his damp hair and making his way downstairs.

Adams? Closing? There’s no way that’s going to happen.

Is there?

“I took Baxter out,” Abbot says when Ned comes into the kitchen. “And I made you toast, which you can eat in the car. The water’s just about to boil for coffee, so if you have just a minute, I’ll⁠—”

“Steve says Adams is closing.”