“I haven’t heard from her since Saturday afternoon,” she said into the cordless phone tucked beneath her chin.

“Maybe she’s at the Algonquin Hotel. Didn’t you say she’s spending a lot of time there on the renovation?”

“Not all weekend.”

“Honey, the woman does have a life. Give her a break.” In the background, she could hear the sound of rattling file-cabinet drawers and footsteps. Instructors in anthropology didn’t get large, soundproofed offices. “Maybe she went out Saturday night, picked up some young stud, and has been holding him hostage ever since.”

“I wish. That’s what I’d be doing. And don’t you forget it.”

He snorted. “I believe you.”

“So if you think you can get away with any private counseling with one of those nubile young hotties you have floating around campus…”

“Please. I value my equipment too much to risk losing it.” She could hear Deidre slamming through the front door. “Mo-om! I’m home!”

Meg lowered her voice. “Get home early tonight and I’ll show you how much I value your equipment.”

Jack laughed. “I’m going to start paying all your friends’ husbands to misbehave. I’m going to find Russ Van Alstyne and plant a big wet sloppy one on him.”

“What? What?”

“Ever since he told Linda he was having an affair, you’ve been a total tiger kitten. Rrowr.”

Meg giggled. “Just reminding you how good you’ve got it.”

“Mo-om! I need a ride to piano!”

“I gotta go,” Meg said. “Deidre’s bellowing. Hold that thought.”

“Faster, pussycat! Faster, faster!”

She could hear Jack laughing as she hung up. He was right, she thought, gathering up her coat and car keys. She had been keeping very close tabs on him since the morning Linda, ping-ponging between fear and rage, had told Meg about her husband’s infidelity. It wasn’t that Meg thought she had anything to worry about. On the other hand, Linda hadn’t thought she had anything to worry about, either.