Chapter One #3
Geoff’s blue eyes flare, and heat races up my throat and into my cheeks, which I know from experience will soon be mottled red and white, like a minor character in a nineteenth-century novel dying from some contagious disease.
I clap my hand over my mouth before I can say anything else, like how my roommate is forever telling me that it would do wonders for my stress about school and the job market if I’d just find a guy and “clear my head”—advice, I should note, Cassie would never follow for herself.
So last April I asked Fisher to meet me for dinner at Mucho Taco, this cheap Mexican restaurant on the edge of town, where every item on the menu is a variation on the same three ingredients and it all comes smothered in some vague concoction called “cheese dip” because queso sounds too foreign, I guess?
And then in the middle of a stilted conversation about nothing, he told me my lips are too full, which may or may not have had anything to do with how the bowl of salsa ended up in his lap.
Anyway, it was epically bad.
I’m saved from the temptation of reliving that night any further by Professor Pedersen’s voice behind us. “Shall we go up?”
Her third-floor office is cozy, two walls covered with overstuffed wooden bookshelves, an actual honest-to-God china tea service on a little table by the window, a family snapshot with her partner and their grandchildren on her desk, and a shabby-genteel faux-Oriental rug on the floor.
Ever the gentleman, Geoff offers me the chair across from her desk and elects to stand.
“I have some exciting news about the database,” she begins.
I sit up a little straighter.
“I’ve been invited to talk about AUSTEN-C at a pedagogical resources convention in New York over winter break.
The organizers are pitching it as a fabulous chance to drive up our subscription numbers.
” She looks from me to Geoff and back again with a hopeful smile; having to worry about those numbers is the bane of her existence.
“To that end, I think it would be best to put our freshest faces forward, so I’d like the two of you to come with me and help deliver the presentations. ”
Both of us are stunned, albeit for slightly different reasons. Geoff speaks first. “Thank you, Professor. I appreciate—that is, we appreciate, I’m sure—the confidence this shows in us. When is the convention?”
“Between Christmas and New Year’s,” she says. “I hope that won’t present a scheduling problem. And the college will be paying your way, of course.”
I’m over the moon. Of course. It’s an amazing opportunity.
I just don’t particularly like the idea of sharing it with Geoff.
“Naturally, Elle,” Pedersen says, “given your greater experience with the database, I’m counting on you to take the lead.
” The spark of warmth I feel at that clarification of our roles quickly fizzles as she continues.
“But I also want you to bring Geoff up to speed, since he’ll be stepping into your position as Team Leader next year.
” Though I try to keep my face from reflecting my internal panic at her words, I know I haven’t succeeded when she adds, “You do intend to finish the program at the end of this academic year, don’t you? ”
“Of course,” I tell her. It couldn’t be clearer that I don’t have much choice.
Four years of funding was the original deal; I had to do some pleading to be granted a fifth. But now she’s telling me this is really, truly it. If I haven’t completed my degree come spring, I might as well kiss the future I’ve envisioned goodbye.
She keeps talking and so does Geoff, but I haven’t the faintest idea what else they discuss. The minute it’s clear that we’re free to go, I’m on my feet.
“Oh, Elle,” she says, looking up. “One more thing. I’ve had a number of requests lately to upload Austen’s novels into the database.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that the U in AUSTEN-C stands for Unappreciated, which Jane Austen most certainly is not.
But Pedersen is one step ahead of me. “I know that seems ridiculous on the face of it, given our ambit. However, a great many of our users are doing comparative projects, and having Austen’s novels searchable within the system alongside the other texts would facilitate that work.”
“It’s no problem,” I insist, and I mean it. After all, it’s only six novels, and there are multiple digitized versions of them already in existence. All I’ll have to do is click a few buttons. “I’ll get right to it.”
Once we’re through the door and down the hall, Geoff touches my arm to slow my pace. “Brilliant news, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I concede. Especially for you.
“I was hoping, under the circumstances, I might finally get a look at the inside workings of AUSTEN-C?”
I’m tempted to brush him off, as I’ve done every other time he asked, but Pedersen clearly expects me to be a team player, and I still need her support. Plus, none of this is Geoff’s fault.
“Sure,” I tell him. “As you heard, I’ve got some files to upload. You can watch and see how it’s done.” I peek at my phone to check the time: almost four. “I’ve just got a few things to take care of first, but swing by any time after five.”