had quickly scooted over to make room for him. “We have a slice of pepperoni left, if you’re hungry.”
“No thanks. Save it for the princess. She looks like she could use a square meal. A guy could get bruised trying to hug her.”
“That will never be a problem for you,” Steff had countered. She’d arched an eyebrow and given him a disparaging once-over. “It’s a good thing for you Burt doesn’t have a dress code. Those worn-out jeans are really disgusting. You look like a bum.”
“Oh? And how would you know? Do you know any bums?” The moment he’d said it he’d realized he’d left himself open to a witty retort. Steff didn’t miss the chance to take another clever jab at him, either.
“Only you,” she had said, smiling sweetly. “But bless your heart, I don’t think you have a clue how disgusting you look.”
Recalling the exchange, Trevor had to smile in spite of himself. He’d been positive, until very recently, that the Lord was simply using him to help his family, but now that he’d spent more time around Steff he was beginning to wonder more and more often what else might be going on. Visions of her and memories of their relationship in the old days kept popping into his mind.
Trevor quickly and flatly denied that Steff had any place in his life other than as his sister’s friend. The best thing he could do was finish the bookcases in her office and distance himself from the entire situation as soon as possible.
Thirteen or fourteen years ago he’d have boxed up his pizza and hauled it over to Alicia’s dorm room at Edith Sutton Hall to share with her and Steff. There wasn’t much about his rowdy, younger years that he missed except that kind of casual socializing.
And now? Trevor shook his head. Nothing had changed except that he was a lot older and hopefully much, much wiser. He was still a blue jeans kind of guy and he wasn’t about to change his ways for anyone, especially not stuffy Ms. Stephanie Kessler. As a matter of fact, when he got home he was going to dig out the most worn pair of jeans he had and wear them when he went to work on her office in the morning, just to make that very point.
And when she objected this time he was going to thoroughly enjoy rebutting her protest. If there was one thing he and Steff loved to do, it was turn their innate differences into reasons to exchange clever barbs. He supposed, to an outsider, their war of words might sound like a real argument but he knew better. Steff loved matching wits with him as much as he loved going head-to-head with her. Theirs was a contest that had been going on since they’d first met and as yet had produced no clear winner.
Trevor smiled to himself. If the time ever came that Steff was too nice to him, that was when he’d start to worry.
Steff was restless. She’d tried drinking warm milk and had gone to bed early but relaxation and sleep had eluded her. Disgusted, she pulled on a pair of designer jeans and an embroidered sweatshirt, grabbed her purse and headed back to campus.
Although she wasn’t fond of poking around alone in the dark, especially since the night of the reunion, she wasn’t certain when Trevor’s special Dumpster would be emptied and she didn’t want the scrap of board with the initial to disappear before she’d had another chance to at least study it.
Arriving, she angled her car so its headlights illuminated the Dumpster and helped dispel the shadows that continued to make her so jumpy. She carried a chair from the foyer of the Administration building so she’d have something to stand on, placed it against the trash bin and climbed up.
The headlights on her left were blinding yet failed to illuminate the depths. Her only recourse was to start lifting pieces of board out of the way and dropping them on the ground until she’d dug down to the one she was looking for.
“My mother would disown me if she saw me doing this,” Steff told herself with a wry chuckle. “Kesslers do not Dumpster dive.”
Piece after piece of wallboard fell at the foot of her chair and still she hadn’t located the initial. She paused, confused and sneezing from the dust she’d raised. The disturbing piece of board had been a good-size, she recalled, so how could she have overlooked it?
Perhaps Trevor had broken up the larger sections as he’d thrown them away. She huffed in disgust. If that was the case, there was no telling what had become of the remnant. It might have been totally destroyed.
Steff had to lean further and further in to reach the scraps. She was so intent on her search she failed to hear someone approaching.
When a deep voice behind her asked, “What are you doing?” she almost lost her balance and fell headfirst into the trash container.
Her, “What?” came out more as a scream than a word.
“Look out,” the man shouted as he grabbed her ankle.
His touch panicked her. She levered herself up and whirled as she shot out of the bin, almost losing her balance and tumbling off the chair into his arms.
Eyes wide, she shrieked, “Let me go!”
The middle-aged man backed off, his hands raised in surrender. “I’m sorry, Stephanie. I didn’t recognize you. What in the world are you doing here at this time of night?”
It took a few seconds for Steff to realize she knew him. Her hands flew to her throat as she fought to catch her breath. “Oh, Professor Rutherford, it’s you. You gave me an awful scare!”
“I’ve told you to call me Cornell,” he said kindly.
“Sorry.” She managed a smile although her heart was still threatening to pound out of her ribs. “Actually, I should I apologize for not calling you Dean Rutherford now that you’re head of the Liberal Arts department. I guess I still feel like your student. Your classes were always favorites of mine.”
“Thank you. I enjoyed teaching you, too.” He was smiling benevolently. “Now, suppose you tell me what you’re doing.”
“It’s a long story. I was looking for a piece of old wall from my office.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“There was an initial drawn on it and some splattered droplets that might be blood. The more I got to thinking about it, the more I wanted to see it again just to make sure. I guess my imagination was working overtime.” She paused for a sigh and a quick sneeze. “Anyway, it’s a moot point because I can’t find the piece again.”
“It was in this Dumpster?”
“Yes. At least, I thought it was.” Eyeing the pile of scraps on the ground, she shrugged. “I guess it’s lost forever.”
Rutherford had shed his nylon windbreaker and laid it aside on the well-manicured lawn. “If it bothers you that much, we should search until we find it. What did it look like? How big was it?”
She held her hands a foot apart. “About like this, although Trevor may have broken it into smaller chunks when he threw it away. The initial itself was four or five inches high. We couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a messy P or an R. Or neither.”
Hesitating a moment, the dean took her place at the side of the Dumpster. “All right. I’ll throw out everything at least that big and you can look over each piece before we
