Chapter 1 #2
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep aspiring to it, no matter how bleak things become. Besides, you don’t really believe
that. You are the most optimistic person I know,” he said.
Aida didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that her optimism wasn’t exactly brimming over these days. Her money was trickling
away, straining under the cost of her upcoming wedding to Graham at the end of May. He was a teacher and certainly didn’t
make bank, and now that she was out of a job, her uncertain future didn’t exactly elicit joy.
Felix prattled on. “But back to the historian. The tours I have arranged for him are to strange and beautiful places that
most tourists wouldn’t ever know about.”
One of the things that Aida had always loved about Felix was how animated her friend grew when he waxed historical. “So, what does this have to do with me?”
“I had a call very early this morning from Lady Ozie’s assistant. Apparently, the historian is no longer working for her.
She was asking if I could recommend an expert on Italy who may need work. Of course, I thought of you. It’s a three-month
gig to start, then if the person works out, they will offer a five-year employment contract. I know it might be a stretch
for you two . . . moving overseas, but figured it might be worth looking into it.”
Aida’s heart ballooned at the kindness of the gesture.
“She called you on Christmas Eve?”
Felix nodded. “Well, one of her employees did. Everything about Lady Ozie is bizarre, but you know what a guide’s salary is
like. She pays so well that I’d take calls from her at three a.m. if I had to.”
“Your Christmas present wouldn’t take kindly to that, I expect,” she teased.
He laughed. “Probably not.”
“Why didn’t you offer to take the job?”
“She’s looking for a historian with credentials, and I don’t have that kind of experience. Besides, I love the work I do and
if she keeps paying me extra on the side, I’m happy.”
The prospect of meeting Lady Ozie and conducting hands-on research in Italy was intriguing. Living in Italy was certainly
tempting. But it didn’t make much sense to give it any real consideration. Graham didn’t speak Italian, and what job opportunities
could a high school physics teacher find there?
“What kind of name is Lady Ozie?” she mused. There was a story in this strange scenario and her curious side was keen to know
more.
“It’s anyone’s guess. My amateur internet sleuthing has turned up nothing. I like to imagine she’s an eccentric duchess running
a secret society of librarians,” Felix offered.
Aida snorted. “You’ve been reading too many novels.”
“Or binge-watching Netflix,” he countered. “What are your plans for Christmas? Where’s Graham?”
“He’s cooking dinner. I should go help him,” Aida said. Just then, the door behind Felix cracked open and a hushed conversation
ensued.
“Bedtime,” Felix said, winking at Aida. “Hang in there, cara. And let me know if you meet with Lady Ozie!” He blew her a few air kisses and then ended the call.
“Who was that?” Graham asked when she finally joined him in the kitchen. Aida pretended she didn’t notice his irritation as
Graham pulled the goose out of the oven and set the steaming pan on a nearby cutting board.
“Felix in Rome. He says hi,” she said. “You know that letter I just got?” She explained the situation to her fiancé.
Graham took off the oven mitts and looked at her. “It sounds really cool, but a job in Italy? I’m confused. Why would Felix
suggest that? He knows we’re getting married in a few months, and that I teach.”
Aida shrugged. “I think because the trial period could give me a quick infusion of cash, even if I decide not to take it long-term.
It does sound interesting.”
“Interesting? More interesting than me?”
She swatted him on the shoulder and gave him a conciliatory smile. “Don’t be silly.”
Her fiancé laughed and enveloped her in a hug. But as she stared over his shoulder at the steaming goose, she had to admit
that a little piece of her wanted to do it. She pushed the thought away and hugged him tight.
The doorbell rang again, but this time it was Graham’s parents, Brennan and Miriam, with an armful of colorfully wrapped presents
and a plastic-wrapped tray of cookies. Miriam was the first to step inside, her perfume filling the room with a familiar floral
scent. She was a petite woman, her hair gone gray but carefully coiffed, her ensemble stylish in a conservative way.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” Miriam said, her lips landing on both of Aida’s cheeks in quick succession. “You look a bit thin. Good thing I brought cookies.”
Aida suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, instead offering a tight smile. “I’m fine, Miriam.”
Brennan was next, a tall lanky man whose stern demeanor was etched into every line on his face. Unlike Miriam, he wasn’t one
for effusive displays of affection, but he managed a slight smile and a nod in Aida’s direction. “Aida,” he greeted.
“Graham, darling,” Miriam cooed, turning to her son with a warm smile. “Thank you for hosting us.”
Aida felt a familiar twinge in her chest, the one that reminded her how much his parents didn’t like her, and regularly made
subtle digs to make sure she knew it. They’d never approved of her—too academic, not enough connections, not enough money.
It was strange and inexplicable, considering Graham himself had a job as a high school physics teacher and they weren’t exactly
made of money either. But for some reason, to them, Aida wasn’t a good enough match, and they never missed an opportunity
to make that clear.
“Our home is your home,” Graham replied, already angling toward the kitchen with the cookies.
“So, what’s for dinner?” Brennan asked, taking off his coat and scrutinizing the living room as if inspecting it for defects.
“We’ve got a goose, some sweet potatoes, green beans, and a chocolate mousse pie for dessert,” Aida listed off.
“A goose? My, aren’t we fancy?” Miriam remarked.
“It was an old family tradition in my house,” Aida said. “Graham was excited about the challenge. But you know him. Everything
he cooks is delicious.”
As she spoke, Aida couldn’t help but think of her own parents, who had passed away in recent years.
They had been much older than Graham’s parents and couldn’t have been more different.
Where Miriam and Brennan were always judgmental, her parents had been joyful, welcoming, and free of pretense.
Aida missed them most during moments like this, when she had to put up with Graham’s family’s constant scrutiny.
Miriam walked over to the Christmas tree, carefully arranging the stack of colorfully wrapped gifts at its base. As she straightened,
her gaze lingered on the tree and the room’s decorations, a few with her and Brennan’s names on the present tags.
“Well, everything looks very . . . quaint,” she said, the word hanging in the air like a thinly veiled critique.
Aida bit her lip, a flicker of irritation rising. Miriam’s comments, as always, came laced with judgment, like she had something
to prove. Choosing not to respond, Aida gently guided her in-laws toward the dining table, eager to escape the prickling atmosphere
near the tree.
Unfortunately, the dinner table was a battlefield, with Aida’s attempts at humor falling flat amid awkward silences and strained
politeness, while Graham’s jokes drew genuine laughter from Brennan and Miriam. Brennan dominated the conversation, boasting
about his role as a municipal court clerk. Miriam, who had also been a teacher—of high school English—offered up stories of
her former students who had recently published articles or secured high-paying jobs, each tale an arrow in Aida’s already-thinning
armor.
“So, Aida, what’s new with your book?” Brennan asked, as if remembering to include her in the conversation.
“Yes, do tell. When will it be out? It will give you the needed credibility,” Miriam chimed in.
Aida hesitated, feeling cornered. The room seemed to shrink as all eyes turned her way, and she reluctantly responded. “It’s
not good news. My publisher folded, so I’m back at square one.”
Brennan frowned, cutting into his goose. “Why can’t you find another publisher?”
“It’s not that easy,” Aida said, her voice tinged with frustration. She didn’t want to get into the details; they’d never
understood the nuances of her university career nor cared to.
Brennan seemed like he was going to say something else but thought better of it and took a long draft of wine instead.
Miriam, however, wasn’t ready to let it go. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her tone dangerously close to condescending.
“Maybe you should focus less on the book and more on hitting the pavement to find—”
“The book was supposed to help make that easier,” Aida cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. “I am hitting the pavement. But my timing is way off. They’ve already filled faculty positions for spring at most places. Even if I found something
tomorrow, I wouldn’t be starting until summer at the earliest, and more likely, the fall. I thought I might find an adjunct
position, but I haven’t had much luck. I may try to find something temporary to tide me over while I keep looking.”
“It’s a good idea,” Graham said, putting his arm protectively around the back of Aida’s chair. “But mostly so you keep your
mind occupied. Job hunting is such a downer. Maybe Felix had the right idea suggesting something to you.”
“Felix? The tour guide friend of yours in Rome?” Miriam asked.
“Yes, that’s him,” Aida confirmed.
Miriam reached for the bread basket, her expression carefully blank. “I’m sure a tour guide is full of useful career advice.”
At the slight to her friend, Aida clenched her fists beneath the table. She forced herself to relax. “He knows someone who
might be able to offer me some temporary work. A bit like a research fellowship.”
Brennan straightened and laid his napkin on the table. “I suppose Graham is right. It is a good idea. You shouldn’t expect