No Place Like Home
by Margaret Watson

CHAPTER 1

            His class was scheduled to begin in less than ten minutes.

            He didn’t have time to argue with this bureaucrat.

“What do you mean, I’m not giving you enough lead time?” Parker said into the phone.  “I received this invitation to speak two days ago.  How could I have given you more lead time?”

            “I’m sorry, Dr. Ellison.  The travel department needs at least a week’s notice to purchase airline tickets,” the prim voice said.

            “Fine.  I’ll make the arrangements myself,” Parker said, dropping the phone into its cradle.  He turned on his computer and studied the pictures of orchids that lined the walls of his office as he waited for the machine to boot up.  How should he frame the speech?  The audience would be members of the museum, so there’d be potential donors in the crowd.  He’d have to make sure he brought the most arresting and beautiful photos with him.

When the computer chimed with the familiar tune, he typed in the internet address of a travel service.  As he waited, he glanced at the clock and swore.  He didn’t have time for this right now.  And the rest of his afternoon was full, as well.  After his class, he had an appointment with the college president.

            Grabbing his lecture notes, he hurried out of his office.  The sounds of voices and laughter drifted through the door of the science department office, and he relaxed as he slowed down.  Marjorie, the department’s administrative assistant, could order the ticket for him.

            Marjorie’s desk had been pushed into a corner, and a cluster of students stood around it.  He stared in surprise.   What was going on?  Students rarely ventured into the department office. 

            “Hey,” a husky feminine voice said.  “One cookie to a customer.  Don’t be greedy.”

            “I’m not greedy,” a plaintive male voice replied.  “Just hungry.”

            “Then you shouldn’t have skipped breakfast,” the woman teased.

            “Busted, Tennant,” another guy hooted.  “Get out of here.”

            “Is there a problem?” Parker said, stepping inside.

            The group of young men froze.  “No, Professor,” one of them mumbled.  “We’re just going.”

            The boys scattered, leaving Parker alone with the woman behind the desk.  He’d never seen her before.  She had red hair pulled away from her face and wore a shapeless beige blouse, but her green eyes sparkled.  She’d clearly been enjoying the attention.

            It was obvious what had drawn the students.  A large plate holding a few chocolate chip cookies stood at the edge of her desk.

            “You didn’t have to scare them off,” she said with a grin.  “There’s plenty left for you.”

            “Who are you and where’s Marjorie?” he asked with a glance at his watch.

            Her smile faded and she held out her hand.  “I’m Bree, the new administrative assistant.  Marjorie took a job in the nursing school.  And you are…?”

            “Dr. Parker Ellison.  He shook her hand and glanced at the cookies.  “Margie didn’t allow eating in the office.”

            “Is that right?” she said coolly.

            “And you moved the desk.  Now you can’t see who’s in the hall.”

            The woman’s eyes flickered toward the door.  “I don’t want to be distracted.”

            “Fine.  Listen, I need you to do something for me,” he said, checking the time.  Five minutes.  “I need a plane ticket to New York for this Sunday morning, returning on Monday.  Whatever airline flies out of Green Bay.  Thanks.  I’m late for class.”

            As he turned to leave, she said, “Wait a minute!”

            “Not now,” he said without turning around.  “Just book the ticket.  I’ll be back in an hour.”

            He ran down the stairs and out the door into the clear June sunshine, then hurried to the red brick, ivy-covered building next door.  He stepped into the lecture hall just as the bell rang and nodded to the waiting students.

            There were almost a hundred of them, he guessed, spread out through the lecture hall.  Boys slouched in their chairs, trying to act cool.  A group in the back were staring at a laptop – probably looking at porn, he thought with resignation.

            Several girls sat in the front row, watching him expectantly, and he quickly memorized their faces.  Experience had taught him that the girls in the front row were the ones most likely to spend too much time coming to his office.

            One boy sat by himself off to the side, and Parker sighed.  He wasn’t a college kid – he couldn’t be older than fourteen or fifteen.  He wore a wrinkled brown polo shirt and baggy jeans, and his shoelaces were untied and muddy.  The expression on his face was a mixture of wariness and excitement.

            Poor kid.

            “Welcome to Intro to Biology,” Parker said.  “I’m Dr. Ellison.”  He wrote his office hours and room number on the chalkboard.  “I like my classes to be informal and interactive.  I want you to ask questions, and I’ll be asking you questions, too.  Let’s go over my expectations before we begin.”

            Most of the students opened their laptops.  The kid opened a spiral notebook and pulled out a pen. 

            When the bell rang an hour later, Parker set down the colored chalk and watched the class file out of the classroom.  The young boy gathered his notebook, stuffed it into a dark red backpack, then headed down the stairs.  He avoided looking at Parker.

            “Hey, there,” Parker said when the boy walked past the desk at the front of the room.  “What’s your name?”

            The boy’s blue eyes were cautious.  “Charlie,” he said. 

            “Welcome to class, Charlie,” Parker said, easing one hip onto the desk.  “You look a little young for college.”

            “I took the AP biology test last spring,” he said.  “I got four out of five.”

            “That’s impressive,” Parker said.

            Charlie shrugged.  “I guess.”

            “So you like biology?” Parker asked, curious.

            “It’s okay.  I wanted to take herpetology, but Intro to Biology was a prerequisite.”

            “You going to be a herpetologist?”

            Charlie raised one shoulder.  “I’m thinking about it.”

            “What reptiles are you interested in?”

            The backpack hit the floor.  “Snakes.  I have two ball pythons and a red tail boa.  I have an iguana, too, but she’s mostly for fun.  Ball pythons are called that because they curl into a ball when you pick them up.  It’s a protective thing.  They’re really called Royal pythons.”

            “You go for the constrictors, huh?” Parker said, smiling.  He rarely saw eagerness in his college students.  They’d learned to hide their enthusiasm behind a cool, bored façade.

            “Yeah, they’re the coolest snakes.  Some of them can be fifteen feet long.  Maybe more.  That’s big enough to eat a pig.  I want to get an emerald tree boa, but I have to save up more money.  They’re pretty expensive.”

            “I’m a botanist, myself,” Parker said.

            Charlie frowned.  “Yeah, I know.”  He sounded as if he felt sorry for Parker.  “But the guy I talked to said you’re a good teacher and I should take your class.  Even though you study plants.”

            Parker bit his lip to keep from smiling.  “Plants can be pretty exciting, too.”

            “I suppose,” Charlie said doubtfully.

            “You sure you want to spend your summer in a classroom?” Parker asked.

            Charlie picked up his backpack, hiding his face.  “I want to study snakes.”

            “You seem like a smart kid.  I bet you could do that on your own.”

            “I have to take your class if I want to take herpetology.”

            “So your parents decided you should take this class?”

            Charlie fiddled with the zipper on his backpack.  “I’m the one who wanted to take it.”

            “I hope you enjoy it, Charlie.  See you on Wednesday.”

            “Thanks, Professor Ellison.”

            The poor schlub.  Parker watched the boy hurry out the door.  Another kid pushed by his parents, undoubtedly to stroke their own egos.  They probably wanted to brag to their friends about their son taking college courses.

            It was a hot-button issue for him, a reaction from his own forced enrollment in college classes when he was Charlie’s age.  Maybe he was overreacting, he acknowledged.  But what the hell were Charlie’s parents thinking?  A kid that age should be hanging out with his friends during the summer, not sitting in a college lecture hall.

            He walked outside in time to see Charlie swing his leg over the seat of a battered red bicycle and pedal away.  Parker hoped he had something fun planned for the afternoon.

            He put Charlie out of his mind as he climbed the stairs to the second floor of the science building.  As he approached the department office, he heard voices again, just as he had earlier.  It was Chuck Boehmer, the department head, talking to their new assistant.

            “Hey, Parker,” Chuck said with a smile as he walked into the office.  “Have you met Bree?”

            “I have,” Parker said.  “She’s already done some work for me.”

            Chuck winked at Bree.  “Talk to you later, okay?”

            “Sure thing, Dr. Boehmer,” Bree said.

            Parker looked from Bree to Chuck.  What the hell was going on?  He hadn’t seen this many people in the office on the same day since he’d started teaching here.

            After Boehmer disappeared down the hall, Bree’s smile faded.   “Yes, Dr. Ellison?”  Her faint emphasis on his title made him narrow his eyes.

            “Did you get that airline ticket for me?” he asked.

            “Sorry.”  She lifted her chin.  “The travel office told me I wasn’t authorized to make that reservation.  They’re the only ones who can arrange travel.”

            “How the hell did they know you were doing it for me?”

            She raised her eyebrows.  “I had to ask them how to pay for it, of course.”

            “You don’t have a department credit card?”

             “I’m the secretary.  Why would they give me a credit card, Dr.?”  She emphasized the Dr. again as her eyes drilled into him.

            “To take care of department business, maybe?” he said impatiently.

            “I make appointments, arrange meetings and type up exams and notes for the professors,” she said.  “Last time I checked, none of those things requires a credit card.”

            He glanced at his watch and swore beneath his breath.  His appointment with Jonathon Cross, the college president, was in five minutes.  Pulling out his wallet, he tossed one of his credit cards onto her desk.  “Look, I don’t have time to do this myself.  I have to get to a meeting with Cross.  Will you please get this trip arranged for me?  If it’s not too much trouble?”

            The redhead froze for a moment, then she smiled at him.  He felt a flicker of unease.  It wasn’t a friendly smile.  “I’ll be happy to do that for you, Dr. Ellison.  Will you be traveling alone?”

            “Yes, I just need one ticket.  Thank you.”

            It was easier to hack his way through the jungle than maneuver through the college bureaucracy, he thought as he walked out of the office.  Things were a lot less complicated in the rain forest.

            He dumped the material from his class onto his desk, groaned when he glanced at the clock on his wall, then hurried over to the administration building.

            “No, thanks,” Parker said, shaking his head, trying to keep his irritation hidden.  “I’m honored that you thought of me, Jonathon, but I don’t have time to serve on a committee of that scope right now.”

            “That’s why the committee is starting work this summer,” Jonathon Cross said smoothly.  “Everyone’s teaching load is lighter.”

            “I have major fund-raising planned for my next expedition,” Parker said.  “Between that and the papers I’m writing, I don’t have time to be on a committee.”

            “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, Parker,” Cross said, brushing a hand over his silver hair and straightening his expensive suit jacket.  “We need a scholar with your credentials.  To give the project high visibility.”

            “You mean you need a celebrity,” Parker said, his irritation growing.

            Cross shrugged.  “Of course we do.  John Henry McInnes was a celebrity himself.  Even if the man was…”  Cross pressed his lips together.  “It doesn’t matter what he was.  McInnes is dead.  But the college needs more press coverage.  Celebrating the twentieth anniversary of McInnes’s Pulitzer Prize for fiction will shine the spotlight on Collier.  And you have the connections to make that happen.”

            “There are plenty of other professors at Collier who are media-savvy,” said Parker.  “Let one of then handle it.”

            “None of them have your…standing, shall we say, in the popular press.”  Cross sat up straight in his Aeron chair.  “To be blunt, Ellison, you’re the only one who can get us the kind of publicity Collier needs.  You’ll need to talk to the family about his papers, and they’re more likely to listen to you.  That’s why you have to be on the committee.”

            “What about Ted?  He’s got a book out now, he’s a hotshot in the history department.  Let him schmooze McInnes’s family.”

            Cross clenched his jaw before swinging his chair around to stare at the Henri Cross painting on the wall.  If it wasn’t an original, it was a damned good imitation.  By hanging the Cross, was Jonathon suggesting the artist was a relative? 

            “Ted wouldn’t handle the family as well as you would,” Cross finally said.  “And he hasn’t cultivated the media, either.  He doesn’t have your connections.”

            “I’m not interested in playing games with the press,” Parker said, gathering himself to leave.  “Sorry, Jonathon.”

            The president swung around to face him again.  “It wasn’t a request, Ellison.  It was an order.”  He stood up and paced across the Oriental carpet.  “This celebration will bring in more donations to assist our scholarship programs for needy students.”

            The next time Jonathon Cross worried about needy students would be his first.  “I thought this was about publicizing our Pulitzer Prize-winning professor,” he said smoothly.  “Not fundraising.”

            “Don’t be naïve,” Cross said impatiently, straightening the blotter on his otherwise empty desk top.  The rich mahogany seemed to glow in the sunlight.  “Everything is about fundraising.  This is just another way to draw attention to Collier.”

            “I think I bring plenty of attention to Collier already.”  He got way too much attention, but it couldn’t be helped.  “Find someone else to head up this committee.”

            “Sorry, Ellison.  Declining isn’t an option.  The committee has already been formed.  I’ve let you skate by on a lot of assignments in the past, but I need you on this one.”

            Hell.  He could tell from the steely look in Jonathon Cross’s eyes that there was no getting out of it.  “Fine.  Make sure they put the first meeting into the computer scheduling system so it shows up on my calendar.”  He stood up.  “Always a pleasure to meet with you, Jonathon.”  His voice was a little sharper than necessary.

            “Likewise, Ellison.” Cross smiled.  “I’m looking forward to getting those papers from the McInnes family.”

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