Chapter 1: The New Tenants

Rick watched a small U-Haul pull into the driveway of his duplex. A slim man with moustache and goatee stepped out. "Professeur Ogilvy?" he asked.

"Call me Rick. You must be Roger Harris -- the new Assistant Prof in Economics."

"S'il vous plait, it is pronounced Roh-ZHAY."

"Roger," Rick repeated the name, using the French pronunciation.

Roger gestured to a young woman with shoulder-length dark blond hair pulled into a ponytail. "Zis is Brenda."

Rick regarded her round face, full lips and her blue-grey eyes. "Pleased to meet you both. Here are your keys." He handed a pair of latchkeys to Roger. "And here is the garage-door opener. You're entitled to the right-hand bay. Do you have one car or two?"

"Just ze one."

"Otherwise, it's street parking I'm afraid, so I guess that's good."

"Merci," Roger replied as he took possession of the garage-door transmitter.

"Do you need a hand carrying anything in?"

"No, merci," Roger replied. "I think we have not so much. Ze U-Haul is not too full. Ze apartment is furnished, non?"

"Fully furnished," Rick replied.

"Zen I think we are all set."

Rick sat at his desk compiling reading lists for his fall term classes. A knock came from his front door. He opened it and saw Roger.

"Pardonnez-moi but we have ze small landlord-tenant problem."

"What's the matter?"

"Ze light switch in ze bathroom..." Roger made an up-down hand gesture, turned up his lip and shook his head.

"I'll come and look."

Rick followed Roger into the rental unit's bathroom and worked the switch toggle up and down. He pressed the test button on the ground-fault outlet near the sink and it tripped with a snap. "We have power -- those are both on the same circuit," he mused. "I think I have a replacement switch."

He returned with a switch and screwdriver, stopping to flip a circuit breaker on the electrical panel in the apartment's kitchen. With a few turns of his wrist he had removed the cover plate and the screws holding the switch to the electrical box. As he pulled on it to ease it from the box the bracket separated from the body. "It was broken, all right," he said as he installed the new switch. "Okay, Roger -- turn on that breaker."

"Which one?" came Roger's voice from the kitchen.

"The only one that's different," Rick called. The lights in the bathroom came on. "There," he said and demonstrated the working switch.

"Brilliant," Roger remarked as he stepped into the bathroom. Rick noticed Brenda keeping two steps behind Roger. "You are ze most efficient landlord, having just the right spare part."

"I keep spares of most simple things," Rick replied, "wall outlets, switches ... washers for the faucets."

"Do you have other properties you rent out to new faculty?" Roger asked.

"No -- just this one apartment. It helps defray the mortgage on the house."

"Very good," Roger remarked. "The university is subsidizing ze rent, no? That is all taken care of?"

"Yes, Roger -- it's all taken care of. It's how I knew to expect you."

"Tres bien, Roger replied. "Rick -- Brenda and I would love to have you for dinner -- to express our gratitude for having such an excellent landlord. Give us a few days to get settled. How would Saturday do for you?"

"It's very gracious, Roger," Rick replied. "Maybe I could bring something."

"Just yourself ... and ze other half ... is zere ze other half?"

"I'm single, I'm afraid."

"Oh ... no Mrs Ogilvy, zen? Qu'elle dommage ... At any rate we see you for dinner Saturday, say six?"

"Could I bring a bottle of wine?" Rick asked.

"Non, non ... If you bring ze wine you will be ze only one drinking it."

Rick rapped on the apartment door and Roger admitted him. "Come in, come in," Roger said and gestured him in. "We have rearranged ze furniture a bit."

Rick sat on the sofa and Roger set a tray with bowls of nuts and chips. "A bit of ze snack while Brenda battles ze demons in ze kitchen."

"Brenda," Rick called toward the kitchen, "is everything in good working order?"

"Oh, yes," she replied. "It's much nicer than our old place, thanks."

"Ze apartments for ze students," Roger said, shaking his head. "Do you rent to ze students?"

"No -- I only accept faculty tenants."

"Smart. Students, zey trash ze places. Of course, we did not trash our place, but you know. And, it's why I was so thrilled when you fixed ze switch with such promptness. In our old place, if we had such a problem..." Roger shrugged. "Pfft ... two weeks, three weeks pass and ze switch still not working."

Rick picked up some chips and placed them on a paper plate.

"Tell me, Rick," Roger continued. "Your ass occupies ze coveted tenured chair ... Perhaps you can give me ze tutorial in ze fine art of writing grant proposals."

"Well ... I'm not so sure it's an art..."

"Now is not ze time to be talking shop. I am curious about ze sorts of projects zat involve you."

"Right now I have one graduate student. We're working on deciphering a twelfth-century palimpsest."

"Palimpsest -- qu'est qe c'est?"

"It's a parchment that's been erased and overwritten," Rick explained.

"Oh, oui, oui I recall ze term now. Please continue..."

"Parchment was expensive in the twelfth century ... it still is. Scribes often scraped the ink from older documents and re-used the stuff. We're trying to decipher what has been erased."

"Where is zis parchment?" Roger asked.

"It's at the Beinecke Rare Book Library at Yale University. We're working with a professor there..."

"So, when ze paper is published ... three names on it?"

"Yes -- my student, my colleague and myself. At Yale they are experimenting with new, non-destructive techniques for enhancing the obliterated text; and Eva..."

"Eva ... your student?"

"Yes. Eva is endeavoring to transcribe and translate the text. It's been rough sledding so far, though -- the original appears to be written in some sort of cursive I've never seen before."

"Zis Eva -- is she hot?" Roger asked.

"Hot?"

"You know -- a looker?"

Rick drew in a breath. "Eva is a lovely person and I feel blessed that she chose me as her advisor. I don't think of students as hot or not."

"How can you not?" Roger replied. "Whenever a man and a woman interact, zere is ze chemistry, non?"

"Roger," Rick retorted exaggerating the French pronunciation of his name, "this university has a policy on faculty-student interaction. Any faculty-student romance is strect verbotten."

"What zat means," Roger riposted, "is zat ze activity must be conducted with ze utmost discretion. After all, how can a natural man-woman attraction be verbotten? It would be like making ze law of gravity verbotten"

"Last year, we had a prof in the Physics department drummed out of his tenured chair because of an indiscreet dalliance with an undergraduate."

"Ah -- and ze operative word is indiscreet... non? If it's properly discreet..." He shrugged. "Pfft -- who is ze wiser?"

"Dinner is ready," Brenda called from the kitchen. "Come take a plate."

Rick carried a plate bearing a portion of chicken breast in a cream sauce, some steamed broccoli and a scoop of rice. He sat at the table at the other end of the apartment's great room.

"Would you like something to drink?" Brenda asked. "We have Coke ... milk ... water?"

"Water is fine."

"Bottled or tap?"

"From the tap is fine. It's the same as I drink in my place."

Brenda smiled. "Of course."

"Brenda is an abysmal cook," Roger remarked, "but she keeps on trying ... like ze rider who is thrown from ze horse every time but still gets back in ze saddle."

Rick cut a piece of chicken. "Roger must be kidding, Brenda," he said. "This is very good. I couldn't do better."

She smiled. "Thank you..."

"Tell me, Roger," Rick said, "from what part of France do you come?"

"I am not from France," Roger replied.

"Canada, then?" Roger shook his head. "Louisiana? Martinique?"

"I come from Binghamton," Roger said.

"Were you raised in a French-speaking family?"

Roger smiled and shook his head. "You see -- I decided zere is not enough romance in zis culture. I believe zat culture and language are..." He patted his thigh. " ... joined at ze hip. I wanted more romance in my life so I asked, which are ze most romantic cultures? Ze French and ze Italians ... but ze Italians are so temperamental. So I chose ze French. I immersed myself in ze French culture and language ... to ze point at which I think in French ... I dream in French ... and when I have ze conversation I must do a little translation into English."

"You transformed yourself into a Frenchman."

"Correct."

"All in the pursuit of romance?"

"Correct again."

"When did you make this transformation?"

"During ze undergraduate years."

Rick regarded Brenda. "Did you know each other then?"

"We met while Roger was in graduate school," she replied.

"What do you think of this ... affectation?"

"S'il vous plait," Roger interjected, "it is not affectation. It is my response to ze unromantic culture of zis country."

"I think it's part of who he is," Brenda replied. "I've never known him any other way."

"We were talking about Rick's research," Roger remarked, "about ze hot grad student he has studying some twelfth century manuscript. Isn't that right, Ricky?"

"Something along those lines," Rick replied tersely.

"Tell me -- how many courses are you teaching zis year?"

Rick looked toward the ceiling. "I'm teaching a senior-level course on Medieval Literature and a graduate-level one on Culture and Technology in the Days of da Vinci."