group found other seats.
Stella’s action caused Annie to once again take note of the change in Stella’s appearance, as she had at the Hook and Needle Club meeting earlier that week. It wasn’t just the softer hairdo and the additional makeup; no-nonsense Stella was wearing a colorful new dress that wasn’t quite her normal style. It was much more feminine—a solid-color satiny under-dress with a crinkly, mottled chiffon overlay that seemed to float about Stella. “ Can a woman her age still get a crush? Maybe … ” thought Annie.
Her thought was interrupted by the entrance of a person who could only be Professor Howell. And “entrance” was the right word. Every eye turned to focus on the professor as he entered the room, and he said cheerfully, “Greetings, ladies and gentleman! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. I was a little lost, but your volunteer Mr. Witherell was kind enough to show Felix and me the way.”
It was only then that Annie even noticed the young man behind Professor Howell. He was laden down with a cardboard box in his arms and an expensive leather briefcase dangling precariously from his fingers. His dark brown–rimmed glasses, that matched the color of his hair, had begun to slip uncomfortably down his nose.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Ian got up and took the box from Felix’s arms as Professor Howell continued across the room to Stella. Felix reached up to push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and said a quiet “Thanks” to Ian. Indicating the chairs along the wall with a nod of his head, he said, “Could you just put the box on one of the chairs over there?” Ian complied, and Felix proceeded to take the briefcase to the seat at the far end of the table. He carefully sat the briefcase on the table to open it and remove a few papers which he laid neatly in front of the professor’s seat. Then Felix closed the case, taking it with him, and went to sit next to the cardboard box.
While this was happening, the professor had taken Stella’s hand. At first Annie thought he was actually going to kiss it, but instead, he only did a curt bow over it. Stella, who appeared to be blushing slightly, was visibly pleased by this behavior, though it was normally the sort of thing Annie thought Stella would have disdained in other circumstances. Annie was seeing Stella in a whole new light—instead of stern matron, she was transformed into Auntie Mame. Who would have thought it? Annie glanced across the table at Alice and caught her eye. She was watching the same scene unfold, and Annie knew by the way she slightly raised her eyebrows that she was equally amazed at Stella’s change of demeanor in the presence of Professor Howell.
As Stella and the professor exchanged chitchat, Annie reflected that he wasn’t precisely what she had pictured when Alice first told her about him. She had to admit to herself that her original rendering of the man in her imagination was cartoonish. No, he wasn’t so simplistic as that, she told herself, but he was undoubtedly a theatrical figure.
Professor Howell was, as Alice had said she imagined him, a portly older gentleman, but with his closely trimmed snow-white hair and matching mustache and beard, in Annie’s opinion, he would not have been mistaken for Santa Claus, or Colonel Sanders for that matter. He was somewhat younger than Stella; Annie guessed he was approaching retirement age. He spoke with an accent that Annie couldn’t quite place. It seemed to be a cross between an English accent and a Franklin D. Roosevelt–type accent. His voice was deep, and his diction was clear; confidence exuded from him—in every word he said and in every gesture he made—and he was very fond of making gestures when he spoke. He wasn’t really all that large a person, but it seemed as if he took up more space in the room than everyone else.
After the professor removed his camel-color cashmere overcoat, Annie took note of his attire. He
Stella’s action caused Annie to once again take note of the change in Stella’s appearance, as she had at the Hook and Needle Club meeting earlier that week. It wasn’t just the softer hairdo and the additional makeup; no-nonsense Stella was wearing a colorful new dress that wasn’t quite her normal style. It was much more feminine—a solid-color satiny under-dress with a crinkly, mottled chiffon overlay that seemed to float about Stella. “ Can a woman her age still get a crush? Maybe … ” thought Annie.
Her thought was interrupted by the entrance of a person who could only be Professor Howell. And “entrance” was the right word. Every eye turned to focus on the professor as he entered the room, and he said cheerfully, “Greetings, ladies and gentleman! I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. I was a little lost, but your volunteer Mr. Witherell was kind enough to show Felix and me the way.”
It was only then that Annie even noticed the young man behind Professor Howell. He was laden down with a cardboard box in his arms and an expensive leather briefcase dangling precariously from his fingers. His dark brown–rimmed glasses, that matched the color of his hair, had begun to slip uncomfortably down his nose.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Ian got up and took the box from Felix’s arms as Professor Howell continued across the room to Stella. Felix reached up to push his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and said a quiet “Thanks” to Ian. Indicating the chairs along the wall with a nod of his head, he said, “Could you just put the box on one of the chairs over there?” Ian complied, and Felix proceeded to take the briefcase to the seat at the far end of the table. He carefully sat the briefcase on the table to open it and remove a few papers which he laid neatly in front of the professor’s seat. Then Felix closed the case, taking it with him, and went to sit next to the cardboard box.
While this was happening, the professor had taken Stella’s hand. At first Annie thought he was actually going to kiss it, but instead, he only did a curt bow over it. Stella, who appeared to be blushing slightly, was visibly pleased by this behavior, though it was normally the sort of thing Annie thought Stella would have disdained in other circumstances. Annie was seeing Stella in a whole new light—instead of stern matron, she was transformed into Auntie Mame. Who would have thought it? Annie glanced across the table at Alice and caught her eye. She was watching the same scene unfold, and Annie knew by the way she slightly raised her eyebrows that she was equally amazed at Stella’s change of demeanor in the presence of Professor Howell.
As Stella and the professor exchanged chitchat, Annie reflected that he wasn’t precisely what she had pictured when Alice first told her about him. She had to admit to herself that her original rendering of the man in her imagination was cartoonish. No, he wasn’t so simplistic as that, she told herself, but he was undoubtedly a theatrical figure.
Professor Howell was, as Alice had said she imagined him, a portly older gentleman, but with his closely trimmed snow-white hair and matching mustache and beard, in Annie’s opinion, he would not have been mistaken for Santa Claus, or Colonel Sanders for that matter. He was somewhat younger than Stella; Annie guessed he was approaching retirement age. He spoke with an accent that Annie couldn’t quite place. It seemed to be a cross between an English accent and a Franklin D. Roosevelt–type accent. His voice was deep, and his diction was clear; confidence exuded from him—in every word he said and in every gesture he made—and he was very fond of making gestures when he spoke. He wasn’t really all that large a person, but it seemed as if he took up more space in the room than everyone else.
After the professor removed his camel-color cashmere overcoat, Annie took note of his attire. He
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