The college! The one place she had been trying to avoid for fifty years, and now-here she was. Before she could reach out to grasp the fluted handle, the heavy door flew open and a tall, curly-haired, apparently angry young man, burst past her. Shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, stained kitchen apron covering faded jeans, he hardly fit his opulent surroundings.

Adjusting her bifocals, Mary Helen watched him take the front steps two at a time, then disappear around the corner of the building. Whoever he was, he was in a hurry.

The tomblike coolness of the foyer gave her a sudden chill. Dark tapestries covered the walls and stairwells. Pale marble busts of saints and scholars stood on equally pale pedestals. Each stared at her with cold, vacant eyes. Stiffening her back, the old nun let the door swish shut behind her.

Life goes on with or without you, old girl, she reminded herself, so you might as well go with it. Turning right, she started up the curved staircase to the second floor. She half expected to see a knight in full armor clank down the marble steps toward her.

Sister Mary Helen took another quick look at her watch. Right on time. Lightly, she tapped on the wooden door marked 203.

“Come in, it’s open,” a pleasant voice called over the clicking of a typewriter. “Just push.”

As she entered, a well-dressed young woman, her thick, black hair clipped back severely, looked up from the typewriter. Mary Helen was struck by the young woman’s beauty. Not by her features so much, although they were delicate and well-proportioned, as by the eyes. The young woman’s eyes were such a clear, deep blue that they looked almost turquoise against her translucent skin.

Smiling, she rose and extended her right hand. Her hand was large for a woman’s, and her grip was firm. A good sign, Mary Helen noted. “Welcome, Sister,” the young woman said, with the hint of an accent. “You must be Sister Mary Helen.” The old nun nodded.