It Takes Two. Joanne Michael

saw was a massive skeleton of a fin whale hung from the ceiling, keeping a silent watch on a large-scale model of the Saguenay River Fjord, Tadoussac Bay and the surrounding area.

      Along the walls, display cases hung open with an array of smaller marine models, and literature and photographs lay scattered around the floor.

      “See what I mean.” Pete touched the corner of a drop cloth with the toe of his shoe. “But we’ll have it ready to go by the time the tourists get here,” he said confidently. “Now, right through here….” He led Abby through a door on the far side of the room marked Employees Only.

      “The labs are all on the second floor,” Pete said as they walked up a flight of stairs that opened into a long hallway, doors on either side.

      They stopped at the second door and Pete rapped softly on the jamb.

      “Chris, you in here?”

      “Yo, boss, right here.” A young man in a garish Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, his long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, bounced up from behind a stack of boxes, clipboard in hand.

      “Chris Gervais, meet Dr. Abby Miller. Abby, this is Chris. You’ll want to be very, very nice to him. He oversees the assignment of all laboratory space here and he is only too aware of the power he holds.”

      Chris shook Abby’s hand. “Don’t believe a word he says. I can’t be swayed by sweet talk. Now, cash bribes, that’s another matter entirely.”

      Abby laughed. “Happy to meet you, Chris. We’ll have to talk about those bribes.”

      “Too late,” Chris said with a grin. “Got your assignment right here. Your area’s acoustic imprints, right?”

      “That’s right,” Abby said.

      “Okay, so I’ve set you up near the auditory lab. Your application didn’t say anything about needing office space, but we have a couple of available rooms on the third floor. They don’t have the best views in the place, but it would be all yours.”

      “Might not be a bad idea to take one,” Pete said. “Just to give yourself a quiet place where you can go and shut the door. Plus, you could have your phone in there.”

      Abby nodded. “If there’s space available, sure, that sounds great.”

      “Okay, then,” Chris said. “Let’s go back to my office and we’ll get you squared away.”

      “Why don’t you go on ahead with Chris,” Pete suggested. “I’ll wait for you in my office.”

      Back in Chris’s office, Abby stood while he rummaged in a desk drawer for a moment, finally rising with a cry of triumph. “Aha! Here we go. Put out your hand.”

      Abby did as he instructed and he gave her four keys. “This one’s to the front door, to the lab, to the audio lab and this one’s to your office. I have all the duplicates in case you lose or forget one. See me for any lab supplies you need. We should have pretty much everything you could want in stock, but I have my own system for keeping track of it. It’s convoluted, but it works. And since I’m the only one who understands it, it assures a bit of job security.”

      Abby laughed and, after getting directions, walked upstairs to the administrative level. Counting down the doorways, she stopped outside Pete’s office. Peeking around the partially open door, she saw the director behind his desk, phone at his ear. He signaled for her to enter.

      The director had what must have been the best view in the place. The windows of the corner office looked over the bay on one side and the Saguenay River on the other. As Pete spoke on the phone, Abby watched the ferry coming across the river.

      “Okay,” Pete said, hanging up the phone. “What do you think so far?”

      “I think it’s wonderful.” Abby meant it.

      “Good, very good. I have to tell you, we’re all pretty excited about your research. It shows some real promise for long-term interest. The more we can learn about the effects of man-made noise pollution on beluga, the better we can help formulate policies to protect them.”

      “That’s my goal,” Abby agreed.

      Pete leaned back, kicked his feet onto his desk and laced his hands behind his head. “I have to say, we were all pretty impressed with your credentials. University of Massachusetts doesn’t exactly give graduate degrees away.”

      Abby blushed slightly. “Thank you.”

      “So, when did the sea first capture you?”

      Abby laughed. “I can’t really say. To be honest, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t involved in something to do with marine sciences. I grew up in the little town of Wellfleet, on Cape Cod. My parents were both teaching scholars with the Cape Cod National Seashore Park. Mom’s an anthropologist studying the indigenous people’s uses of beached pilot whales, and dad’s made the study of the physiology behind pilot whale beachings his life’s work. Some of my earliest memories are of going out on the boat with them on research trips. When I was old enough, they hired me as their assistant and boat worker.”

      “I’ve read their papers—groundbreaking stuff,” Pete said. “And you? Do you hope to follow in their footsteps?”

      “You mean the groundbreaking part?” Abby smiled. “Well, that’s every scientist’s dream, isn’t it? No, I’m here to add what I can to the general body of knowledge.”

      Abby knew her answer sounded rehearsed. Probably because it was. Growing up as the daughter of Drs. Norman and Lowell Miller had been both a blessing and a curse throughout her life. The shadow her parents cast was a huge one and Abby desperately hoped her own research in Tadoussac would finally enable her to step out of it.

      In college and later in graduate school, every time she had met a new professor or scholar, the initial introductions were inevitably followed by comments about knowing the Millers and their work. Intellectually, Abby knew these people were not comparing her to her parents. Still, even now, she was plagued with the uneasy notion that she never quite measured up to her parents.

      Belatedly, she realized Pete had said something.

      “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” she asked, feeling a bit foolish.

      “I said, we welcome that.” Pete leaned across the desk. “The data you collect this year on the effects of noise pollution—especially from watercraft—will be an invaluable tool to help us recommend regulations controlling the whale-watching industry. There’s still so much we don’t know about the extent the boats impact the whales’ social behavior, breeding, calving, feeding and other life processes.”

      “And that’s where I come in,” Abby said.

      “Right you are.”

      “How many permit-holding whale-watching boats are there around here?” Abby asked.

      “A little more than fifty.”

      “Sounds like I’ll have plenty of opportunity to study the effects of sound on the beluga.”

      “Anxious to get started?”

      “Very,” Abby assured him.

      “Okay, then.” Pete nodded. Abby had the feeling he was holding something back.

      “Is there anything else I should know?” she asked.

      Pete sighed and picked up a piece of paper off his desk. “In your acceptance letter, it was mentioned that you’d have regular, scheduled use of a boat.”

      “That’s right. I need it to set my sensing equipment in the bay and up the Fjord and then make regular checks on them. In fact, I can’t do much else until those are in.”

      “I see.” Pete cleared his throat and looked Abby in the eye. “Well, I’m afraid that might be a problem.”

      “What kind of problem?”