Excerpt from The Things That Keep Us Here by Carla Buckley, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Out in the hallway, a man and a woman trooped up the stairs toward him. He recognized them as his next- door neighbors, both college students. Peter had learned to work late on weekend nights to avoid the inevitable parties and to close his ears to their earlymorning lovemaking. They pressed themselves against the wall to let Peter and his bags squeeze past.

“Take care,” the woman said.

First time she’d ever spoken to him. It sounded so final. Peter nodded. “You too.”

She continued up the stairs, the man’s arm around her shoulders. The streets had perked up during his brief absence. The coffee shop on the corner was doing a brisk business. People thronged the patio and overflowed onto the sidewalk, chatting as they waited for their morning brew. People swooped past on bikes. Others walked hand in hand down the sidewalks. Downtown was beginning to have a carnival air about it, everyone hanging out, enjoying the unexpected day off from school and work.

Peter shook his head and loaded his bags into the back of the pickup.

He drove by playgrounds that an hour before had been empty. Kids ran everywhere, calling out to one another. Their parents stood in idle clusters, rocking strollers and no doubt negotiating how to manage this day and all the suddenly school- free days to follow. Movie theaters would be swamped. So would the mall, fastfood restaurants, the library, and rec center, anyplace that welcomed kids. A mistake.

This wasn’t the time for celebration. These people shouldn’t be standing out here, laughing, gossiping. He considered stopping, rolling down his window, and telling them to go home. But of course he didn’t. They wouldn’t listen. They’d think he was a madman. “listen to this.” shazia sat on the floor in the corner of the den, laptop balanced on her knees, her hair loose about her shoulders. She was playing with her barrette, snapping and unsnapping it. “RNL is working on a vaccine.”

“Who isn’t?” Peter looked back to his computer screen and typed a few commands. He had to download his lectures for the week and then post the exam. It was all master’s- level work. At that point, students could be expected to follow the honor system. “But it looks like they may have something. They’ve already moved on to Phase Two of clinical trials.”

Peter swiveled in his chair to look at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “A Dr. Liederman’s leading it.”

“Albert Liederman?”

“You know him?”

“My old doctoral advisor. I haven’t talked to him in months.” Which had been a worry. Over the course of the past year, Liederman had stopped attending conferences and returning phone calls. Peter had thought the old fellow was slowing down, but now it seemed he had simply diverted his energies elsewhere. “I’ve been after him for years to write a memoir about the ’78 influenza outbreak. We came that close to a full- blown pandemic.” He held up his thumb and forefinger pinched together.

“In 1978?”

She had probably never even heard about it. Few people had. “You should hear him talk about it. That guy could send shivers down your spine.”

But talk was all Liederman would do. How many times had he grumbled, “I can’t write a book, Brooks. That’s your job.” Peter leaned back in his chair. “He gave me his notes a while ago. Told me to take a crack at putting together a book. Maybe you could help me organize the material.”

“I’d like that.”

He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looked over to see Ann standing in the doorway of the den. “Want to light the grill?”

Shazia set down her laptop. “I’ll help.”

“Stay put.” Peter waved his hand. “Tonight I’m cooking.” Shazia looked at him. “That’ll be nice.”

Excerpted from The Things That Keep Us Here by Carla Buckley Copyright © 2010 by Carla Buckley. Excerpted by permission of Delacorte Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.