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Draper—” she tried again, but this time his words instead of his eyes stopped her.
    “Now don’t tell me it’s brown, because dead leaves are brown, and that’s not it. No, I’ll bet all those European men have been telling you all sorts of things. You know, I lived in Italy a couple of years, and I know some of the things they’re likely to say.” The sparkle in his blue eyes contradicted the earnestness of his tone. “I’ll bet they’ve been calling it polished oak, or old brandy, or fine leather. And they’d all come close, but none of  ’em is quite right.” He studied her closely, his head slightly tilted.
    She pulled in a breath to stop this silliness, but he was off again, opening the door wide before turning. “Nope, I just don’t have it. But I’ll come up with it, Professor. And when I do, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
    * * * *
    Carolyn stopped outside her front door and turned to look back. Her apartment occupied the second floor of a forty-year-old house that sat on a rise above the campus. The small covered porch at the top of the exterior stairway provided a wonderful view of the university, a view shared by the living room and bedroom. That was why she had chosen the apartment.
    She could clearly see the rectangular Meadow. Three sides of it were enclosed by the Administration Building, the original classroom building and the chapel. The fourth side sloped away to Lake Ashton, which glinted in late-afternoon sun. Beyond this core, the campus expanded in concentric rings of buildings, each ring older than the larger one beyond it.
    Despite the university’s growth, huge trees and large, open areas remained. The grass had faded, but the trees displayed their pre-winter bravura of color. Yellows skittered away down pathways and roads, while the oranges and reds would time their flaming peak perfectly for Homecoming.
    She needed no such dramatics to make her own homecoming pleasant, Carolyn thought as she stepped inside. No signs of disorder betrayed her return from a five-month trip. She’d unpacked immediately. Clothes had gone back to their accustomed spots. Presents waited on the dining table to be distributed to friends. Only books presented a problem.
    She eyed the shelves that covered one wall of the living room and dining area, interrupted by the generously cushioned couch and the door to her bedroom. More shelves lined a tiny bedroom office she’d created from a walk-in closet. All the shelves were full. She’d have to juggle her collection to accommodate her European purchases, with the spillover going to her campus office.
    Carolyn arranged her suit jacket on a padded hanger in the closet across from the front door. With a steadying hand on the small table next to the door, she slipped her shoes off, then padded across the soft nap of the buff carpeting.
    The beige cotton-covered couch, matched by two overstuffed chairs facing it across a bleached pine coffee table, tempted her. What luxury to curl up and enjoy the panorama of Ashton through the picture window. But she should change first.
    To the left of a pine table and chairs that made a dining area of one end of the living room was a compact kitchen with white cabinets and butcher-block countertops. She switched on a burner under the teapot and took a spoon from the drawer.
    Just one, she told herself, scooping a heaping spoonful of Heavenly Hash ice cream directly from the carton in the freezer to her waiting mouth. She murmured with pleasure. If there was one thing she’d missed most in Europe, this was it . . . Five months was a long time without true Wisconsin ice cream, she justified as she took a second spoonful. And a third.
    Resolutely she rinsed the spoon and started toward the bedroom. The ringing phone hurried her back to the kitchen. She caught it on the second ring, barely beating her answering machine. Her breathless hello drew a laughing response.
    “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d just run