Chapter 18
Amanda entered the office, so quiet on a Saturday afternoon. No one else had come in to work over the Columbus Day holiday. Most students were enjoying the three-day weekend, and several departments were holding faculty retreats off campus. She glanced at her calendar … a year since the big October storm when Marcus had sheltered her and Cecelia at his house. She sighed. So much had happened since then.
She stacked the papers on her desk, eager to organize what had become a jumble of to-do lists and half-finished magazine articles. She had a bit more than four hours to create order out of the chaos on her desk, four hours of quiet time before Sam’s mother brought Cecelia back after lunch and their extra soccer practice that afternoon. The message light on her phone was blinking. She picked it up, dialed in, and beamed when she heard Marcus’s voice.
“I just got some good news. Give me a call at my office when you have a minute.”
She returned the call, but he didn’t pick up. He was probably talking with Troy about that class they were doing, or maybe his brother. Talking Husker football, perhaps?
She sat back for a moment, her chair squeaking in protest. I’ll ask him to come over for dinner tonight. So they could talk to Cecelia. Together. So many things had gotten in the way since the writer’s workshop—Cece’s scout activities, soccer games, school meetings, his manuscript, her articles, her new classes, his new classes. But she didn’t want to wait any longer. Tonight, she thought. I don’t want to wait any longer.
“Now for the paperwork,” she mumbled to herself. She added ask Beatrice for oil for my chair and call Marcus to her list. She stood up, her hands on her hips, glad she had worn jeans and an old flannel shirt with paint splotches on one arm from one of Cecelia’s projects. She’d meant to move things around in her office now that the renovations were done and she had a regular-sized desk. The beginning of her second year at Buckley was promising to be a good year already.
For the next several minutes, she rearranged the furniture, turning the desk so that the window was to her back and she could see who was at her door from across her desk. She sat down in the larger chair. Her office felt cozier now, and she could see who was at the door without having to turn halfway around. Even if it meant she had to walk around the desk to exit. By pushing the file cabinets close to the far wall, she had created a private little corner for the smaller chair Cece used. The extra chair Beatrice had brought her now was pushed cozily into the other side of her desk, to the left of the door. Perfect for a student to use, hers was now a welcoming office for office hours and student questions. She smiled, pleased with how much better things looked, then reached for the first pile of papers she wanted to organize. She glanced at her to-do list. Talking to Marcus would be her reward for finishing her work.
She began editing the article closest to completion. Two hours later, she rose, stretched, and wandered into the hallway to refill her water glass. Ian Berriman was standing at the water fountain.
“Amanda, how’re things?”
“Pretty good. What are you doing here?”
“Proctoring a special exam.”
“You and I must be the only ones in the building. I’m trying to do some reorganizing. I’m snowed under with my new preps this quarter.”
“Good for you.” He smiled. “I’m going to grade this test and do some of that myself. One of these days, I want to talk with you about an idea I have for a team-taught course on American history and literature. Are you interested?”
“Sure.” She nodded. “Sounds like it might be fun. Let me know when you have time to fill me in.”
“I will. See you later.”
She waved at him as she re-entered the outer door of the department, casually rubbing Shakespeare’s head as she passed the sculpture. Another hour into her work, she looked around, satisfied at what she had accomplished. The draft of one article was finished, the one she had been editing was nearing final form, and most of the filing for her classes was put away, all in a bit more than three and a half hours. Papers she had graded and planned to return were ready to be taken to class on Monday. She placed them in a neat stack in front of the window behind her chair. The manuscript pages were stacked on a corner of her desk and she began reviewing her notes for next week’s seminar.
Now for her reward: call Marcus and invite him to dinner, to celebrate his good news—
whatever it was—and talk with Cecelia about all of them living together. She went to the departmental supply cabinet just outside Beatrice’s office to retrieve a ream of paper and looked out the window at the leaves that fluttered off the trees. The fall colors reminded her that Cece had asked for colored paper for an upcoming scout project. Something to pick up on their way home.