“English majors are always nice. Especially ones with dark hair who know how to write well. Think you match that description?”
She imagined him smiling at her as he spoke into the phone. “That I do.”
“You already have a following among the students. That’s impressive.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple of sophomores in one of my classes are in your Wednesday Intro section. They were talking about you the other day. Very complimentary.” He paused. “So I guess I better make sure you prefer the company of faculty or you might decide to go to a movie with one of them.”
She chuckled. “Not to worry. I never mix business with pleasure.”
“Then I’ll have to make sure our movie on Friday is in the pleasure category.”
“I’m sure it will be.” The warmth on her cheeks descended through her body to her toes.
Cecelia pulled on her sleeve. “Mom?”
“Excuse me just a minute, Marcus.”She looked down at her daughter. “What is it?”
“You promised to go over my math with me.”
She nodded. “In just a minute.”
Marcus voice came through the phone a bit louder. “I should let you go. You have family obligations, and a cute daughter who likes to read, something else I approve of.” He seemed to be waiting for her reply then said, “And maybe a future newspaper reader, too.”
Amanda was glad that he didn’t seem put off by Cecelia’s presence. “Then, I guess I’ll see you on Friday, sevenish?”
“Sevenish it is. Until then.”
She hung up the phone, and turned to her daughter. “Okay, show me your math.”
The next afternoon, Carlton glared at Amanda. “Did you have to talk to Hillier?” He reached for his books as he prepared to vacate their office.
“Hello to you, too, Carlton.” Amanda moved toward the desk. “I asked you nicely if we could arrange our schedules so each of us could use the office and you didn’t cooperate. I have to be here before my classes—just like you, and to meet students during office hours. Greg said this office is for both of us … until the building is finished.”She stacked her books on the wide edge of the windowsill along the side of the big desk.
“But you know I have to work on my dissertation.” His voice came at her again in a low growl. “I need more space than you for all my equipment.” He pointed to his computer and nearby printer.
“Can’t you work on it at home? Wouldn’t it be quieter there, especially on days when you don’t have classes to teach?”
“You work your way, I work mine.” He slammed a pile of books onto the windowsill, knocking some of her things to the floor.
“Look Carlton—” She stooped to pick up her papers and files when he made no effort to do so. “—have you thought of securing a carrel in the library? I did that when I worked on my thesis. That way I could leave my notes there and come and go as I needed, and no one bothered my things.”
“I prefer to work here.” He pointed to the desk behind which Amanda now sat.
She sighed. “Look, I don’t want to interfere with your work. I’ll limit my time to right before and after my classes and my office hours. The rest of the week, the office is yours. How about that?”
“It will have to do, I guess.” He continued to glare at her then continued, his voice quieter, almost apologetic. “I’m not used to managing large classes like you are.”
She glanced up at him, feeling sympathetic toward her office-mate for the first time since the start of the quarter. He was so unsure of himself. Maybe because he’s the only one in the department without his degree? “The students won’t bite. They just want to know what you have to say about the work you’ve assigned.”
Frowning, Carlton stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
Whether or not he heard what she was trying to tell him, she had no idea. Amanda waited for the student who had asked to meet with her. She looked out the window that overlooked the sprawling lawn with its brick-lined walks linking the various campus buildings scattered around the green space. Early October seemed more like summer to her, not like in Iowa where she knew the trees were no doubt losing their leaves.
She had been so happy to leave Worthington, Minnesota, when she’d received her scholarship to the University of Iowa. In the middle of her junior year, she met Dylan Berglund. His Scandinavian background pleased her parents, who approved his looks (tall and blond), his athleticism (an avid skier), and his brains (pre-med or pre-law, he hadn’t decided). They were less happy with her decision to see him every weekend for the next year and a half.