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and hopeful.
    “Oooh, you’re very cute, but it’s not gonna help. Greg wants you to help Vaughn with the Medieval Feast, and that’s all there is to it.”
    “But he wanted to do it by himself.” I almost whined for her benefit, even giving her a little foot stomp to complete the picture of petulance.
    “Nate.” She giggled.
    “Oh, Gail, you should’ve seen him: he stood up in the middle of our staff meeting and said that”—I deepened my voice—“someone else should be allowed to put their stamp on one of the only black-tie events that the English department hosts.”
    “Nate,” she repeated, trying really hard to stop laughing and look serious.
    “You were on leave, you don’t know. I—” I heard voices in the hall and saw two of my colleagues. “Rox, Paul!”
    Dr. Roxanne Chaney and Dr. Paul Valdez both came when I called them, both smiling, happy to see me.
    “Tell her.” I pointed at Gail.
    “Tell her what?” Roxanne asked, smiling, offering me a bite of the apple she had just started.
    I took the Granny Smith from her. “Tell her what Vaughn said.”
    “Oh,” Paul said as I bit into the apple, more than happy to chime in before Rox. “So Gail, he stands up in the middle of the meeting, scares the crap out of Richard ’cause he’s napping, right, and—”
    “Henry is, like, what the ef,” Roxanne interrupted, cackling. “I mean he’s trying to have his regular meeting with Toni knitting and Crosby texting and Greg dozing and frickin’ Vaughn is like”—her voice dropped an octave just like mine had, all of us ready to mimic how serious the man always was—“I don’t see why Nate coordinates the Medieval Feast every year and no one else ever gets to take a turn.”
    Gail looked at me, and I waggled my eyebrows at her to confirm the story as I ate more of the apple. I was hungrier than I thought I was.
    “And he goes on to say that it’s not fair that just one faculty member is involved and that we should all be involved, and Peter’s like, screw that, he doesn’t want to be involved. It’s Nate’s baby, and this way all he has to do is bring a damn date.”
    She started laughing again.
    “I mean, come on.” Roxanne chuckled, turning back to me. “Gimme that.”
    I shook my head at her, taking more bites.
    “It has my spit on it.”
    “I like your spit.” I grinned at her with apple in my mouth.
    “When are you going to rid of this beard and this mustache?” She sighed. “You would look so much better with it gone.”
    “I look distinguished this way.”
    “You’re too young for it,” she assured me, running her fingers along my jaw, “and much too handsome.”
    “Oh yes, he’s very pretty,” Paul teased me, pinching my cheek. “And this year he doesn’t have to be the host in the monkey suit working the room at the Medieval Feast.”
    I gave him a high five for that.
    “You know why?” Paul chuckled, turning back to Gail. “Because Sanderson Vaughn is a complete douche who finally stuck his foot in it this time.”
    Gail coughed to stop laughing. “The department chair, your boss, my boss, the fabulous Richard Hampton, wants you to cohost with Vaughn,” she told me. “Apparently when he asked Sandy—”
    “Sandy,” Paul scoffed. “Really? That’s a grown-up’s name?”
    “Stop it,” she warned him and then looked back at me. “Today he asked for status, I mean the damn thing’s just eight weeks away, and Sandy ”—she glared at Paul, daring him to say another word about the man’s name—“hasn’t even booked the hotel yet or planned a menu or given us a guest list so we can start on the invitations.”
    I sighed deeply. “I would really love to help,” I told her.
    “Liar,” Roxanne coughed into her hand.
    My smile could not be stifled even though I was still chewing. “But I already promised my students a Yule masque at my place.”
    “A what?” Paul was interested.
    I swallowed fast. “Everyone has to come as a character