Beauty And The Brain. Elizabeth Bevarly

darling, not only is Willis working on a very important study for the scientific community, what he’s doing will add beautifully to the festival.”

      “But, Mom—”

      “Imagine the media coverage. It will be good PR. And you know how important that is to Endicott.”

      “But, Mom—”

      “The revenue generated during the Comet Festival is what keeps this town afloat. And I don’t have to remind you that we only have the opportunity to take advantage of it every fifteen years.”

      “But, Mom—”

      “And besides, darling, this is still my house.”

      Well, that certainly shut Rosemary up. Her mother had never invoked ownership privilege for anything before.

      “And speaking as both mayor and citizen of Endicott, I’m inviting Willis to be a guest in my house for as long as he needs to be.” She fixed her gaze intently on her daughter. “Will that be a problem, Rosemary?”

      Rosemary returned her mother’s gaze, feeling a heavy weight descend upon her shoulders. Her mother was right—the house belonged to her. She could invite whomever she pleased to be a guest, and there wouldn’t be a whole lot Rosemary could do about it. Still, it would have been nice if, just once, her mother had taken her daughter’s feelings into consideration over what might be best for the community.

      But Janet March was a much better mayor than she had ever been a mother. It’s why she’d spent three consecutive terms in office and would doubtless be elected to another.

      It wasn’t bitterness on Rosemary’s part that caused her to draw such a conclusion. It was simply a fact of her life that her mother had never taken as much interest in the wants and needs of her children as she had her own civic activities. Oh, Janet had been a nice enough mother, and even considerate in her own, rather shortsighted way. But she’d never been particularly good at mothering. And, if pressed, even Janet herself would probably laugh and admit that such a thing was true.

      Rosemary knew there was no way her mother would bend on the idea of having Willis stay right here in the big English stucco with her. Short of moving out herself, Rosemary was stuck with him as a house guest for the next few weeks, if that was what Mayor Janet March decreed. And there was no way Rosemary would be moving out. Even if she could have afforded to rent something else for that length of time, thanks to the Comet Festival, there wasn’t a room available within a hundred miles of Endicott.

      And even though Angie and Kirby would probably open their homes to her, Rosemary couldn’t find it in herself to impose on her friends for that length of time. Angie’s apartment was barely big enough for one. And besides, Angie was way too busy investigating the appearance in town of that lowlife, scumbag, murdering slug Ethan Zorn to want Rosemary bothering her.

      And although Kirby had an extra bedroom at her house, Rosemary didn’t want to crimp her friend’s style trying to snag a man. Even though there was little chance that Kirby, the Endicott equivalent to Mother Teresa, was ever going to land herself a local boy, because all the local boys just thought Kirby was far too sweet and far too nice to ever try something like...like...like that with her. Not that Kirby hadn’t tried.

      It was a big house, Rosemary told herself. With any luck at all, she and Willis wouldn’t even have to see each other during his stay. With any luck at all, he’d banish himself to the attic with his notebook and his telescope and his scientific equations, which he found infinitely more interesting than he found her anyway. With any luck at all, he’d leave her alone and keep to himself.

      And with any luck at all, she thought further with a helpless sigh, she wouldn’t find herself feeling like the know-nothing jerk she’d always been convinced she was whenever she was around Willis.

      “Fine,” she capitulated reluctantly. Swallowing a groan, she turned to her old nemesis and added halfheartedly, “Welcome home, Willis. It hasn’t been the same around here without you.”

      And with that, she spun around and made her way back downstairs, completely uncaring that her coffee still sat untouched in her bedroom. It was just her first indication that things were only going to get worse.

      Two

      What had she meant by that? Willis wondered. Why had Rosemary said Endicott hadn’t been the same without him? Was that good? Or was that bad? Surely it must be the former. She’d always hated his guts. Or was she just trying to confuse him, trying to tie him up in knots again, the way she always had when they’d been in school?

      God, he hated having to do this. If it wasn’t for the fact that his need to explain the comings and goings of Bobrzynyckolonycki far outweighed any lingering ill will he harbored toward Rosemary March, he’d pick up his bags and his telescope and head back to Cambridge in a heartbeat. But he knew he wouldn’t do that, because the comet had haunted him for fifteen years.

      Of course, so had Rosemary March, he reminded himself. But for entirely different reasons. Where Willis had never been able to pinpoint the comet’s motivation for its activities, he’d more than understood Rosemary’s. She had despised him—that was all there was to it. Doubtless she despised him still. Then again, he supposed he had no one but himself to blame for that. He hadn’t exactly made it easy on her all those years ago.

      And he wasn’t making it easy on her now, either, he thought, an odd kind of guilt nagging at him. Why had he had to go and shoot his mouth off about her being too stupid to understand something like computer programming? That had been uncalled for, even if it was true. He’d just been smarting from her suggestion that no woman in her right mind would ever take an interest in him, and he’d struck back without thinking.

      It was going to be a long few weeks.

      He turned to Rosemary’s mother and forced a smile. “Thanks again, Mrs. March, for putting me up this way,” he said. “Especially on such short notice.”

      She returned his smile. “You should really be thanking Rosemary, not me. Even though this is my house, I hate pulling rank on her like this. Still, it’s for the good of the community, isn’t it?”

      “It’s for the good of the world,” Willis corrected her. “If I can ultimately decipher a reason for why Bobrzynyckolonycki’s movements through the cosmos are what they are, this year’s festival will go down in history.”

      And, of course, he thought further with a satisfied smile, so would he. And that ought to show Rosemary March once and for all that he was a lot more than the pizza-faced little twerp she’d always considered him to be.

      God, where had that come from? he wondered. What did he care what Rosemary thought of him? Her opinion of him today mattered about as much to him now as it had when he was thirteen years old. So there.

      He followed Mrs. March back outside, then bade her goodbye beside his Montero—loaded to the gills with all of his paraphernalia—that he’d parked on the street in front of the house. The parts for his telescope would be arriving the following day, so he had twenty-four hours to unpack, get settled and reacquaint himself with his surroundings. Twenty-four hours to prowl Endicott and remember what his life as a boy had been like all those years ago.

      Because his parents had moved to Florida after he graduated from high school and his sister had headed west, Willis hadn’t had any reason to come back to the community where he’d grown up. When he’d left Endicott for MIT thirteen years ago, he’d known he would be returning for the Comet Festival this year. But he’d had no idea he would have such mixed feelings about his return. He had never been particularly fond of his hometown, or of many of its residents. Thanks to his brilliant mind and geek status, he’d just never felt as if he belonged here. The town was too cozy, too comfortable, too set in its ways. And in no way conducive to scientific thought.

      He was already looking forward to getting back to Boston, back to the wealth of academic and thought-provoking opportunities available there. That city was teeming with life for people like Willis—people