Henry Wood: Time and Again: by Brian Meeks Page A

door.”
    The cats had both vanished when Hans had entered. Henry stood up, thanked the doctor and Hans for the dinner, and left. Henry shook Hans’ hand, apologized again for the surprise, and then headed back to his office. He had a lot of writing to do.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Twenty-Four
     
    A lovely young woman with straight dark hair and what some would describe as a European beauty sat with her friends. The bar was moderately crowded with people engrossed in their own lives. Professor Brookert sat at the bar reading while he drank a beer.
    The woman was overheard saying, "I don't walk outside."
    Her friends laughed. They were used to declarative statements from Celine. The aging Professor Brookert, not generally inclined to eavesdropping, had his curiosity piqued. He set his newspaper down and gave a look at the woman and her friends.
    “May I inquire as to how one avoids walking outside?”
    Her friends giggled. He wasn’t sure if it was his age, attire, or manner of speaking which brought about their collective laughter. Their tone was light and not at all condescending, though, so he chose not to take it personally.
    Celine, sensing that her friends’ burst of laughter might have been misinterpreted, stood and addressed the professor. “Don’t mind them. They are laughing at me.” Then she told them to shush. “In the winter, it's much too icy. I choose to walk like this.” Celine took a few steps on the balls of her feet.
    The professor couldn’t stop from smiling.
    “I haven’t fallen down in four winters!” she said triumphantly.
    The last comment made her friends burst out in even greater laughter. People in the bar were beginning to pay attention to the commotion. It certainly seemed like there was a lot of fun happening around that table.
    Celine grabbed her beer and went up to the bar. She threw herself onto the bar stool. “Does that answer your question?”
    Professor Brookert picked up his own beer and clinked her glass. “Yes it does, and that was a superb demonstration, young lady, thank you very much.”
    “You’re welcome.” Celine cocked her head to one side, surveyed his horrifically unfashionable suit, and said, “You look like a professor.” She smiled confidently with a nod.
    Now it was time for the old man to laugh, though it was more of a chortle.“Guilty as charged, Miss.”
    “What do you teach?”
    “I enlighten the minds of our youth regarding antiquities, old cultures, and ancient languages at NYU.”
    “A history teacher, eh?”
    Normally having his life’s devotion distilled to such a pedestrian description would have gotten his dander up, and he would have torn into the troglodyte who said it. She had not meant to offend, was hardly a cave dweller (she was too fashionably dressed), and he found her rather charming. He simply nodded in agreement.
    Professor Brookert finished his beer and was about to leave, when Celine’s friends insisted he join them. Two hours passed. It was a lively conversation, with Celine doing most of the talking. She had lots of stories to tell, and the professor enjoyed them all. He rarely spoke that night, but occasionally doled out a spoonful of fatherly advice when called upon.
    One of the women worked at a brokerage firm, mostly getting coffee, typing up letters, and fending off advances from the bankers. “Most of the time,” she giggled. The two other women were in serious relationships, lived together, and were working diligently at getting their men to propose. Both were quite sure that they would be betrothed soon.
    Celine was between jobs. Two days earlier, her boss had crossed the line. She demanded respect. This part of the story she emphasized with a fist to the table. Her friends cheered. Her boss was unimpressed when she had said it to him with the same flourish, and fired her.
    When Celine expressed concern about finding a job, the professor had an idea.
    “I hope you won’t find this too forward, but this very