Free The Deepest Water by Kate Wilhelm Page A

had had a choice, be a T.A., a teaching assistant, or work in the museum, and neither paid even minimum, but it was part of the post-grad program she was in. That and her dissertation. Now she didn’t know why she wanted the doctorate, if she wanted it, what she would do with it afterward.
    “Is Willa Ashford your advisor?”
    “Yes.”
    “Tell me something about her, will you? We haven’t been able to talk to her yet. Someone at the museum said you probably know where she hangs out when she’s not home. Where is she?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her all this week. Except at the service.”
    “But she’s your friend, as well as your advisor, isn’t she?”
    “Yes,” she said in a low voice.
    “Did you and your father have a falling-out because of her?”
    She jerked up straighter and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Just another rumor? Someone mentioned that maybe you and your father had a fight a couple of years ago, about the time he started seeing a lot of Willa Ashford. That things hadn’t been patched up yet. Anything to that?”
    “No! He was busy, traveling, book signings, and writing. And I was busy with my school work, and we just weren’t as close as we used to be. It happens that way when your lives take you on different tracks.” She fought to keep her voice even. “Who told you that?”
    “Did you usually wait for an invitation to go visit him?” he asked, ignoring her question.
    “No. I used to drive out and call him on the cell phone when I got to Coop’s place and he’d come over and pick me up. Or sometimes I’d call first to make sure he’d be there. Sometimes he wasn’t, and I used the boat and went over anyway. We didn’t need appointments,” she said coldly.
    “But since you both got so busy, did you usually wait for an invitation?”
    She stared at approaching headlights, then more headlights, more. “I just didn’t have the time like I used to,” she said. “He asked me out now and then if there was a special reason, like when he got an advance copy of his novel, something like that.”
    “Has anything come to mind about what he called you for the last time? It must have been something special.”
    “I don’t know why he asked me out,” she said in a low voice. “You were going to tell me a little something about Willa Ashford,” he said.
    She shook her head slightly. “No, I wasn’t. There’s nothing to tell. She was my instructor, then she was appointed the director of the museum, but she continued to be my advisor. I work for her.”
    “Was she your father’s lover?”
    “Ask her.”
    “First I have to find her,” he said reasonably. “Okay, okay. Will you be keeping the dog now?”
    “Of course,” she said, surprised.
    “I thought maybe Halburtson would take her back.”
    “They go down to southern California for the winters,” she said. “It was hard enough to get two dogs admitted to the community where they stay. It would be impossible to bring in another one. Anyway, she’s part of the family, she’s mine.”
    “Mr. Connors likes dogs, too?”
    “Sure. He grew up on a farm with livestock and a lot of dogs and cats. He’s always been around animals.”
    “I wondered,” he said. “Halburtson said his dogs wouldn’t let anyone but you and your father near the boat ramp. Did he mean they wouldn’t let your husband in without raising a rumpus?”
    She had to think about it. Every time she and Brice had gone, she had had to order the dogs to stop barking; they didn’t accept Brice as family, but they hadn’t known him all their lives, either. She had a flashing memory of the one time she had gone with him to visit his folks in Idaho. The dogs there had not accepted him, either. He had been gone too long, he had said; his mother had added, “Eight years. It’s a whole new generation of cats and dogs.” The visit had been awkward, the weather too hot and dry; the dust-laden air smelled of