A note to the observant: Almost all city names are false; they were taken from a variety of fantasy sources. All characters are based on real people, so it is no coincidence that they are the strongest part of the story. Names, and sometimes personality and personal history, have been modified to protect the innocent. The events of this story, however, are complete fiction.
Heather's Norwellyn house was perhaps the homiest place Colin Watson had ever been in.
The first thing that struck him about it, when he had first stepped over the threshold some five or six years ago, was that it was a little bit old--worn, stained carpeting; cracks in the plaster where people had kicked the corner on their way around too many times; broken tiles fixed with wrong-colored replacements. The ceiling seemed a little lower than normal, and the concrete patio in the backyard had weeds breaking up through it.
But after only a few minutes in the house, he realized that it was not the disorder of disrepair that he saw, but the disorder of long, hard use. Like a pair of old, well-loved jeans, the house was broken-in, maybe a little frayed, but still perfectly useful.
Colin Watson's father was an architect, and when he moved his family to Saldaea Heights, he had designed and commissioned a monstrosity of a museum house: marble floors, vaulting ceilings, virginal white walls and more rooms than anyone could ever want. Colin's family had lived there for almost ten years and the place was still pristine. Colin saw it as a sterile environment, like a hospital: cold and distant and untouchable. Next to this, the warm, breathing disorder of the Norwellyn household was a refreshing change.
As Mrs. Norwellyn had suggested, one of Heather's friends was already there, a bright-faced Chinese girl named Tanya Chang who had a habit of being very loud. A second friend, Lacie Epstein, had yet to arrive. The third was also absent: Adam Hawthorne, the third member of Colin's assembled family.
"Hey, Heather. Whatdja bring him for?" Tanya asked.
Heather shrugged. "He wanted to come."
"Yeah, but why was he with you," Tanya persisted.
Heather and Colin exchanged glances. "We'll leave that explanation until later." Tanya, sensing a particularly juicy bit of gossip on the horizon, squealed and rubbed her hands together.
Heather, predicting that the remaining members of the study group would arrive within a few minutes, went to get cookies for her guests, directing Colin to find a seat somewhere. She was proved right; barely had she walked into the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Mrs. Norwellyn said. "Hi, Colin."
"No, I'll get it," Heather said, rushing out of the kitchen, unbound hair flying. She was wearing the clothes she had worn yesterday, and Colin was glad to see that they had not wrinkled or stained during the night's recreational events.
"I'll get your cookies," Colin offered, and went into the kitchen. Three feet away, through the wall that divided the front door from the kitchen, he heard Heather and her mother chatting with her new arrival--probably Lacie, since Adam had a much deeper voice than that. Once Adam and Lindsay had measured against a piano and discovered that Adam's talking note was a low D.
A 'container' of Safeway chocolate chip cookies was on the counter--Colin did not know how else to describe it; it was one of those plastic trays with ridges to hold the cookies on their sides, that could be slid in and out of the plastic bag. It defied description. There was also a plate, on which Heather had laid a few cookes. Colin washed his hands and got them finished up, arraying them in a circular overlapping pattern. Before he was halfway finished he heard Adam Hawthorne's voice on the other side of the wall.
Colin had not gone to the same school as Adam and Heather for years. He attended a private, expensive college, Besaid University, by the grace of his father's income, stimulated by the California Bay Area's housing crunch; today a house in an affluent community will sell for upwards of ten million dollars. Heather and Adam, on the other hand, were not poor, but neither had that sort of money at their disposal. Coincidentally, neither had their biological fathers around. Heather's had left before Heather had started school, and she had only gained a stepfather in the past few years. Adam's father had died, succumbing to early cancer when Adam was nine. Colin didn't think this had anything to do with it; both Mrs. Norwellyn and Mrs. Hawthorne were friendly, capable women. But to save on expenses, both Adam and Heather had attended a local junior college for two years. Now Adam was transferring to UC Davis to be with other friends, though he had successfully applied to Berkeley, and Heather was considering San Jose State.
Heather's sister Katharine walked in. "What are you doing here?" It was not too uncommon to see Colin or Adam around the Norwellyn household, but she had never expected to find one of them laying out cookies in the kitchen.
Colin shrugged. "I'm helping Heather."
The family resemblance between Katharine and Heather was unmistakeable; both had similar hair colorings and facial structures, though Katharine's eyes had a lot more gray in them. Katharine's voice had remained high, however, and her proportions and the roundness of her face made her look like an eternal schoolgirl. She had graduated near the top of her class and had deferred an acceptance to UC Berkeley for two years to attend Manetheren College and save her mother's money, as Heather had. She was seventeen.
When Colin finished with the cookies he brought them out and set them on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. "Anyone want something to drink?"
Adam jumped. "Colin," he said, a smile brightening his face. "What are you doing here?"
Colin shrugged and grinned. "Helping Heather."
Adam Hawthorne had always been tall, but now Colin was finally catching up to him after a lifetime of shortness. He had a chiseled, handsome face and warm eyes. He wore his dark hair short and spiked with gel. Like Colin, he had never placed much emphasis on the aesthetics of his body, but he paid attention to what he wore; at present he had on a necklace of pooka shells, blue jeans and a baggy grey sweater with UCSD in red block letters on the front. He was one of the kindest and most generous people Colin had ever met. Also, because he was gay, there was a constant stream of girls falling over him. Colin felt that this was proof of God having a sense of humor.
In the kitchen he asked Katharine to help with the sodas. He knew where they were--he had a head for random trivia--but he didn't want to seem rude by simply walking in and busting open the refrigerator. Once everyone had their drinks, Colin retired to a side chair, content to sit and watch the exchange of information go by.
It was a fairly rapid session. Heather's class was focusing on the rise and fall of the Ottoman Empire. They traded notes and observations on the lecture; evidently the teacher, a notorious test-giver, had suggested that this particular nation would feature prominently on the final. Colin had studied the Ottomans before, history being a common requirement at most colleges, and every now and then Heather asked him to clarify a point. Colin wondered why she did this. Was she trying to make a point of him being a part of her life? The Ottomans interested him, especially their method of succession when a sultan passed away; Colin was a psychologist, and any way to manipulate behavior interested him. But he wasn't exactly an expert here.
When the meeting ended, Lacie Espinosa excused herself, but Tanya still had questions. "So, Heather, where were you?" Adam looked over, mildly interested.
Heather glanced at Colin, feeling his eyes on the back of her head. "What do you mean by that, Tanya?"
"I got here at 10:58," Tanya said, "and you weren't here. Then five minutes later you come in with Colin." Tanya was grinning delightedly; her Gossip Radar was lighting up like a Christmas tree. "What gives?"
Now Adam was clearly interested. He looked back and forth between the faces of his two oldest friends, his hazel eyes speculative.
"Oh, well," said Heather, fidgeting. Why should this be so uncomfortable to admit? Neither Adam nor Tanya was going to scold her. "I was with Colin at his dorm for a while. We got a little held up in traffic on the way here."
"Wait," Tanya said. "You went to Colin's place last night, and then again this morning?"
Colin had stood unobtrusively, and now he sat on the end of the couch nearest to Heather, with Tanya on its other side. Heather herself sat in one of the free-standing single-user chairs, ninety degrees around the coffee table to Colin's right; Adam occupied the second chair, directly across from Colin and Tanya.
"Err, well." Heather toyed with the notes in her lap. "I didn't really come home after I went last night."
"Oh
re-eally
," Tanya shrieked, a gigantic grin on his face.
"Colin, what's going on?" Adam asked. "Something's not adding up here. You're going out with that Jason guy, aren't you?"
"What,
me
," Colin asked, scandalized.
"No,
Heather
, silly," Adam said, grinning.
"Oh, well, actually, she's not," Colin said.
"Yeah," Heather said. "We broke up yesterday."
