A Thread So Thin by Marie Bostwick Read Free Book Online Page B

wouldn’t rather give the massage a try? Last chance.”
    “Make that no chance, Charlie. But I’ll make you a deal. After we finish with our lesson and make a few runs, we can go back to my place. I’ll make you some dinner and then afterward, if you’re nice, I’ll rub your sore muscles.”
    Charlie’s face brightened. “Really?”
    “Really.”
    “And you’ve got massage oil at your place? Or should we stop by the Grill and pick up my bottle of olive oil?” He raised and lowered his eyebrows suggestively and I laughed.
    “Not that kind of massage, Charlie. I was thinking about something more in the way of a rubdown with some Bengay.”
    “Bengay? That sticky goo that smells like horse liniment?”
    I nodded. Charlie walked over to me and put his arm around my waist.
    “Oh well. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but I guess a fellow has to settle for what he can get. Come, my little snow bunny. Let’s hit the slopes.”

4
Liza Burgess
    I rested my chin in my hand and stared, unseeing, at the faux woodgrain wall of the library study carrel, thinking, hitting the mental replay button on Zoe’s tirade yet again.
    “OMG, Liza! Are you kidding? You just turned twenty-two! Why would you want to tie yourself down like that now? Or ever? Marriage is a trap! A lure and snare instituted by men to ensure themselves a lifetime supply of sex! All men are misogynists, bent on forcing women into narrow roles of gender and…”
    But what does Zoe know about it? She’s had six boyfriends in the last two years. She’s no expert on love and marriage. Why did I even bother to ask her?
    I was so absorbed in my thoughts that at first, I didn’t hear the soft tap-tapping of knuckles on the laminate wall.
    “Liza?” I felt the gentle pressure of a hand on my shoulder. “Liza, are you all right?”
    I looked up, startled to see Professor Williams standing over me. The fluorescent library light beamed through the unkempt tendrils of her brown curls, framing her face like a halo.
    “Oh! Hi, Professor. I’m just trying to finish up the last of the research so you can have it before classes start.”
    She nodded. “I wondered. I walked by here a half hour ago and you were sitting in that exact same position, reading that exact same article.” She leaned down to take a closer look at the magazine. “You’re still on the same page. It’s either so interesting you wanted to read it again, or so complicated you have to read it again, or you’re distracted and thinking about something else. I’m putting my money on door number three.”
    “Guess I’ve got some things on my mind. Sorry. I’ll get back to work.” I turned to the next page of the article, but Professor Williams reached down and picked up the magazine before I could begin.
    She laughed. “Liza, don’t bother with it. Not right now. You’ve been working day and night on this. I think you need a break. Besides,” she said, squinting as she scanned the page, “we won’t need this one anyway. The Katzenburg essay makes the same point…” She paused to read a bit more. “And much more succinctly.”
    She made a disgusted face and mumbled to herself as she continued reading, “What a pompous blowhard this guy is.
    “No,” she said with a definitive shake of the head that set her curls bouncing, “we can do without this article. The Katzenburg is far superior. Not to mention that file of personal correspondence between Greenberg and Pollock you found in the museum archives. That was an incredible find, Liza! It’s absolutely going to make this paper come to life! ”
    Professor Williams had a way of speaking, emphasizing certain words so that it was impossible to miss her meaning, like an anchor-woman reading the day’s headlines. She was smart, thoughtful, and wildly enthusiastic about art history. And her enthusiasm was contagious. I’d taken other art history classes in the past and could take it or leave it, but Professor Williams’s