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credentials?”
    â€œHe hasn’t taught for five years.”
    â€œHe retired to the Vineyard five years ago, for God’s sake.” Thackery was quite worked up. “During that time he’s published two books on economic theory and more than a dozen papers in peer-reviewed journals.”
    â€œDr. Wilson, we are simply doing our duty.” Professor Bigelow pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Cosimo Perrini righted the table as it started to topple over. “Cape Cod University has its standards for faculty appointments. If you wish to have your courses accredited by the university, you abide by the rules and standards that have been set up. High standards, I am happy to say.” Professor Bigelow sat again.
    Thackery took a deep breath and pulled up another chair to the card table. “What must we do in order to have his courses approved by Cape Cod University?”
    â€œDr. Price hasn’t taught during those five years of retirement,” said Professor Bigelow.
    Thackery stood again. “He’s been teaching a regular elementary economics course at the high school every year of those five years and…”
    â€œHigh school.” Bigelow looked down at the papers on the table.
    â€œIt’s not merely high school,” said Thackery. “He’s been teaching a series of adult ed courses on macroeconomics theory.”
    â€œYou don’t seem to understand, Dr. Wilson. Adult ed courses are not good enough for the university.”
    â€œWhat do you require, then?” Thackery, with effort, kept his voice under control.
    â€œCape Cod University offers a course in principles and practices of education for those planning to go into the teaching field. We believe it would be helpful for him to take that course as a refresher…”
    â€œAn introductory-level course?” Thackery couldn’t help showing his astonishment. “Dr. Price could teach that course.”
    Dedie Wieler smiled.
    â€œWe’re not hearing impaired, Dr. Wilson,” said Bigelow. “If he’s had as much experience as you claim”—he held up a hand as Thackery was about to say more—“then it will be a simple requirement for him to fulfill.”
    Thackery, defeated, sat again.
    *   *   *
    After the IGCOC meeting broke up, Dedie Wieler beckoned Thackery aside. “A word with you, Dr. Wilson.”
    Thackery, not sure where the next blow was coming from, remained standing next to his desk. He placed the fingertips of his right hand on the desktop and leaned on them. He scowled at Professor Wieler and said nothing.
    â€œIs the kitchen fairly private?” she asked.
    â€œI doubt if Professor Bigelow will interrupt us there,” said Thackery, lifting his nose in the air.
    They moved from Thackery’s living room office through Linda’s dining room office, through a pocket door into the kitchen, which was a standard 1950s remodeled kitchen with pink refrigerator and stove.
    â€œWhat do you want of me?” asked Thackery, leaning back against the refrigerator.
    â€œI thought you might be interested in knowing the history of Professor Bigelow and your Dr. Price.”
    A dog barked. There was a noisy scuffling in dry leaves. Dedie went to the high window over the maroon sink. “Can’t see from here what that’s all about.”
    Thackery adjusted his glasses, which kept slipping down his nose. “I suspect Walter’s mongrel got loose again. I’ve lost patience with him and his dog.” He folded his arms across his chest.
    Dedie turned from the window and set her papers on the chrome-legged table. The tabletop was pink vinyl with yellow boomerangs. She was wearing jeans, a blue-and-white-striped man’s shirt, and sandals. At six foot one, Dedie was almost as tall as Thackery, and he found it disconcerting to speak eye-to-eye with a woman. “Dr. Price was on Professor