Hank Devereaux’s Growing Attraction to His Secretary Rachel

Hank Devereaux’s growing attraction to Rachel develops inside a working relationship built on trust, literary encouragement, and daily acts of assistance. He helps her pursue publication and relies on her discretion; she supports him when colleagues and administrators press for access to him. Yet his interest repeatedly turns professional exchanges into occasions for private speculation, while Rachel’s own doubts about his motives keep intimacy uncertain. The relationship advances not through a declaration or an affair, but through Hank’s jealous assumptions, embarrassed apologies, and recognition that his feelings resist the neat categories of propriety.

Work, Writing, and Unequal Boundaries

Rachel is Hank’s secretary and the person who brings him messages, manages access, and notices what is happening around him. Their closeness has a practical foundation: she is present in his office and outer office, and he depends on her judgment and help. But their connection also extends into writing. Rachel had begun submitting stories for publication the previous fall, then stopped after her husband mocked the rejections and complained about postage. Hank offered a simple workaround—using department mail—but Rachel was too ethical to accept it.

Hank understands that Rachel may have internalized her husband’s verdict that she is not good enough. He also recognizes a second suspicion she may hold: that his literary encouragement is a pretext for trying to get her into bed. That possibility complicates his role as a supporter. His interest in her work may be sincere, but Rachel has reason to wonder whether professional help comes with an unspoken personal claim.

Hank crosses a boundary when he sends Rachel’s stories to Wendy, his agent, without asking Rachel first. He is not even certain that Wendy is still his agent, but he has nevertheless placed Rachel’s work before a professional contact. When he asks whether Rachel liked the stories, he waits for her response and considers how she will react to his having acted without permission. The gesture offers potential encouragement, but its unilateral nature also repeats the uncertainty at the center of their relationship: Hank wants to help Rachel, yet he has made a consequential decision for her rather than with her.

The five peach pits left on Hank’s blotter, amid a dark wet stain, sharpen his awareness that people are testing his composure. He wonders whether Meg Quigley left them and reads them through a sexual allusion to Prufrock and the question of daring to eat peaches. The interpretation does not establish what Meg intends; it shows how readily Hank’s attention turns an ambiguous object into a possible erotic message. Rachel’s silence after he tells her about sending her stories leaves him similarly unsure, and the peach pits remain in his thoughts as he tries to interpret both women.

Loyalty and the Late-Night Call

Hank’s attraction becomes more exposed when he calls Rachel at home late at night. The call comes from beside the men’s room, where the door swings open and shut and the stale smell of urinal cakes intrudes on the conversation. A boy answers. Hank initially struggles to recall Rachel’s child’s name, then remembers that it is Jory and tells him he should be in bed. Jory responds with hostility, making plain that Hank has reached Rachel’s household at an unwelcome hour.

Hank asks Rachel to tell Cal he is sorry for calling so late. Then he wonders whether she and Cal are back together. Though he acknowledges that the question is none of his business, he reacts to the possibility with an unmistakably personal edge: he tells her to tell Cal to go screw himself and that he dislikes him. His sudden attack is more revealing than any claim of affection would be. Hank has no stated right to intervene in Rachel’s private life, but he cannot keep his concern from becoming possessive when he imagines her returning to another man.

The next day, June Barnes explains that Rachel asked her to call Hank. June is speaking from his office because the outer-office lines are tied up, and she reports that Rachel has taken criticism for defending him. Even the university’s CEO has pressed her for Hank’s home phone number, which Rachel refused to provide. Rachel’s discretion is concrete evidence of loyalty: she protects his privacy amid demands from people with institutional power. Hank, however, filters this support through hope, pausing over the pleasant possibility that a woman he is half in love with might be half in love with him. Her defense of him matters, but it does not confirm that she shares his feelings.

Apology, Relief, and Ambivalence

When Hank next asks Rachel into his office, a single ripe peach sits on the ruined blotter. He has also received a note that Bodie Pie in Women’s Studies has been trying to reach him. The peach renews the suggestive atmosphere of the pits, but the scene turns on Hank’s effort to repair the late-night call. He apologizes for calling so late and for criticizing Cal, adding that if Rachel and Cal were getting back together, that would be good. Because she does not answer immediately, he continues explaining that the call and his insult were out of line.

As Hank speaks, Rachel studies her hands. He notices that they show the effects of dishwater, paper cuts, and burns from an oven door, yet considers them fine and graceful and wishes he could take them in his own. This close attention makes his attraction bodily and specific, while the details of her hands mark a life of ordinary work rather than youthful idealization. His desire remains internal; the scene offers no indication that he touches her or tells her what he is thinking.

Rachel corrects the premise behind his apology: she and Cal are not getting back together. Hank feels a powerful wave of relief, then tries to describe that response to himself as decent affection. He cannot quite believe the description. At the same time, he does not settle on a straightforward declaration of indecency; instead, he imagines an in-between realm of cowardice, altruism, or academic life. The comic naming of that territory gives form to his evasion. He can recognize that his feelings exceed ordinary collegial concern, but he still avoids acting on or plainly defining them.

Rachel also helps Hank manage his strained communication with Lily Devereaux. He cannot decide what message to leave for his wife because what he would say depends on circumstances, including whether she has seen him on Good Morning America and whether he caused the flatness in her voice on the answering machine. Rachel suggests a declaration of enduring love, and Hank accepts the suggestion, reasoning that it may be more convincing coming from her. The exchange places Rachel in a confidante’s role even as Hank privately desires her, while his marriage remains an active limit on what he can say or do.

An Unresolved Intimacy

The relationship’s defining pattern is a mismatch between what Hank notices and what he can responsibly claim. Rachel helps him, guards his private information, and engages with his writing; she also has reason to suspect that his support may conceal sexual interest. Hank, for his part, alternates between mentoring her, crossing a professional boundary on her behalf, imagining her response to suggestive signs, and reacting sharply to the prospect of Cal’s return. None of those actions establishes a reciprocal romance.

By the end of these encounters, Hank has more clearly recognized his attraction, but recognition does not resolve it. His relief when Rachel rules out reconciliation with Cal is unmistakable to him; his impulse to recast desire as decent affection is equally revealing. The peach imagery, the uninvited submission of Rachel’s stories, the late-night call, and the apology all make the bond feel charged, while Rachel’s own feelings remain uncertain. Their closeness is real, but the line between professional loyalty, emotional intimacy, and Hank’s desire remains unsettled.