Free Dying For Siena by Elizabeth Jennings Page A

behavior? It’s a topic of great interest nowadays and I feel you’d be best positioned to cover all angles. We’d want to cover economics and public health policy, and I know you’ve done some work on that.”
    He stopped and smiled at her, his head tilted inquisitively.
    Faith blinked and barely stopped herself from looking around to see who he was addressing. Normally quick, it took her a moment to process what he’d said because it sounded so outlandish.
    Would she be willing to moderate a panel of world-famous experts on one of the hottest topics around? Talk about cutting-edge research with some of the finest minds on earth?
    Well…yes, as a matter of fact. She’d also be willing to accept a winning lottery ticket, marry Mel Gibson and accept the Nobel Peace Prize.
    “Faith?” Professor Gori—Leonardo—was looking at her quizzically. “Would you have a problem with that? Because if you do, if you’d rather moderate another panel, pseudo-quantitation, say, that’s fine, too. I just thought that maybe you’d—”
    Faith was jolted out of her surprise-induced stupor. “No!” She lowered her voice. “Ah, no. No, that’s not it at all. I’d be…delighted to moderate the tipping panel. But…” She shook her head to see if she could loosen a few neurons.
    She thought she’d heard him say…
    “What was that about not accepting your invitation last year? I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said.
    This time last year she’d been finishing up her paper for Mathematica , working madly on her PhD, and doing the usual graduate student scut work—teaching no-brainer summer remedial classes for jocks—and getting ready to move to Deerfield.
    Her contract had started on July first. She was absolutely positively certain that no invitation to Siena, Italy, had been forthcoming.
    Leonardo frowned. “Well, as I said, we were really sorry you couldn’t accept our invitation last year.”
    “Professor Gori…Leonardo. I didn’t receive an invitation last year. Actually, I didn’t receive an invitation this year either. I’m only here because Tim Gresham fell ill at the last minute. And Professor Kane made it quite clear he wasn’t particularly happy I was along.”
    “I…see.” He sat back and steepled his fingers, looking très European Intellectual. “Well, my dear, we most certainly did issue you an invitation to participate in the Quantitative Methods Seminar last year and this year. We sent the invitation care of Professor Kane, since we’d heard you would technically be under contract with St. Vincent’s by the time the conference started.
    “Professor Kane said that you were too busy with the move to Deerfield last year. And he said he couldn’t spare you this year. We were very disappointed and made this known to Professor Kane. Forcefully. And I, personally, was delighted when I saw last night that you were able to come.”
    Faith was silent. She could feel her heart swell with resentment and anger that she hadn’t been the one to slip a knife into Kane’s black heart. Being invited to participate in the Quantitative Methods Seminar was considered a signal honor in her field. He knew that. Kane had kept her from it last year and had done his very best to make sure she couldn’t come this year.
    When she spoke, her voice was thick with repressed anger. “I was told about the trip here less than four hours before departure.”
    “I see,” Leonardo said again. He gave a little sigh, an Italian masterpiece of subtle expressiveness. Yes, Professor Kane was a shit , that sigh said, but he was also a colleague and important in our field and I can’t come right out and say what I think of him. “I’m afraid that Roland Kane, for all his brilliance as a mathematician, was a very difficult character.”
    “Yes,” Faith said shortly, her jaw muscles bunching.
    Another elegant, little sigh and a gentle straightening out of the razor-sharp crease of his trousers.
    “Well,” he said,