Chapter Three
Margo
Two weeks later.
“No.”
“What do you mean no?” My question, laced with anxiety, filled the small space of my professor’s office as a chill slid down my spine.
Had I bombed the mid-term?
Why was she staring at me that way?
Was I not—did I not study enough?
Had I overlooked something in the last segment? Read the questions too quickly?
My mind began replaying that last two and a half hours in my head on a loop, trying to find the exact point I fucked up.
I’d gotten to the exam room early—twenty minutes early, to be exact—I’d taken my seat in the fourth row, three spots away from the left, and reviewed my study notes one more time.
As my eyes scanned over my scribbles, the room began filling with my classmates, most of them nearly a decade younger than me.
I remember not being able to focus due to the pair behind me gossiping about somebody they’d fucked the night prior.
Professor Ashley arrived just five minutes before the start time and instructed us to clear our desks.
I did, and even made sure to have three number two pencils out instead of my usual two. Just in case.
I’d been ready for this exam, and during it, I was sure of my answers. There had been just ten minutes left when I finished, and I used that time to double-check all my answers.
But then Professor Ashley asked me to hang back until the room was cleared. I did. Then, as she had gathered up all the exams, she’d asked me to follow her to her office.
Which brought me to now.
In my lap, I twisted my hands, feeling a cold sweat coating my palms.
Professor Mandy Ashley was someone I’d come to idolize over the last few semesters.
She was also somewhat of a legend at Albers Business School.
She had a plaque in the main hall. She had been the first female professor here and had spent the majority of the early 2000s paving the way for countless women to enter the business realm.
This was my third class with her, and honestly, I couldn’t complain.
Her teaching style was brilliant, and I never felt lost during her lectures.
Even her syllabus was astounding. I was contemplating framing the damn thing.
“Margo, you’re pale,” she noted, leaning forward to grab her teacup.
I tried swallowing the lump in my throat as my eyes tracked her every move. From the way her fingers cradled the bottom of the fine china to the way her lips pinched as she took a small sip and the way the steam from the hot liquid hit her nose.
“Yeah, well, my Irish genes were the dominant ones,” I pushed out as I looked down at my hands.
My nails were bare, something I usually never let happen.
They were also bitten down to the nail bed, evidence of how the last two weeks had been treating me.
Clearing my throat, I slid my hands underneath my thighs and said, “Professor, let’s just get it over with. ”
She raised a perfectly trimmed brow, a lock of her gray hair falling over her forehead. “Get what over with?”
I pressed my lips together before letting them go with a small pop. “I failed, didn’t I?”
She set down her cup. “Margo—”
“I’m a grown woman, I can handle it,” I assured, somehow not wanting her to be uncomfortable.
I couldn’t imagine what a person in her position had to deal with when giving horrible news to her students.
“Just give it to me straight so I can go down to my adviser’s office and sign up for this class again.
” I completely missed her face softening, still on an anxiety-riddled roll.
“Of course, it is going to set me back a bit,” I continued, running the numbers in my head.
“But Rossy, my boss, he’ll give me extra shifts at the bookstore, and I’ll be able to cover the extra costs.
Do you think the campus bookstore will let me hold on to this textbook until next semester? You know, since I already rented it?”
She was staring at me now; a funny look painted over her features.
I nodded, answering my own question. “Of course, you wouldn’t know that. I’m sorry for asking you. I’ll get that taken care of. I’ll do whatever it takes to pass your class, Professor Ashley. I promise to get it right the next time.”
She hummed, put her hands on the arms of her brown leather chair, and pushed off, standing up.
I watched, tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth, as she shrugged off her stylish suede jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair.
“Let’s, as you say, get this out of the way, then, yes?
” she said, giving me a small smile as she took her seat again.
“Margo Bennett, you did not fail my class.”
I nodded, letting the disappointment hit me. “I understand, I promise to do better—” My head snapped up. “Wait—what?”
Professor Ashley smiled, her laugh lines deepening at the corners of her mouth. “You expected to fail,” she guessed.
My head shook so fast that I could feel the clip holding my hair up sliding down. “No,” I rasped. “At least, not until you asked me to stay and follow you to your office.” I paused, taking in the space. “Which, I have to say, isn’t what you deserve. You deserve a bigger one, in my opinion.”
She chuckled. “They offered me a bigger office seven years ago and I declined. My mind works better in tight spaces.”
“Oh.”
Her hand reached out to a pile of papers on her desk.
“I brought you in here not to tell you that you failed, but that you exceeded my already high expectations. I graded your exam after you turned it in. I’m impressed.
So much so that I would like you to lead a group project next semester.
It would coincide with your Economics 718 class. ”
I blinked, utterly stunned as my shoulders slowly lowered. I fell deeper into the chair, my back finally touching the soft cushion behind me, my body relaxing. “I passed.”
“Yes, so far, you’re thriving in this class, Margo. You should be very proud of yourself.”
I ignored that. I wasn’t allowing myself to be proud of anything until that degree was hanging on my wall. “We still have another month and a half of class before finals, Professor. Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because you’ll need to schedule an appointment with your adviser now rather than later. Just to make sure everything will line up like I suspect it will.” My eyes met hers and she gave me another smile, this one warm and filled with pride. “You’re my top student, Ms. Bennett.”
My jaw fell open slightly, my lips parting as a wave of disbelief slammed into me. I’d never been at the top of anything, never been good at anything other than coffee. “Wh-what? I am?”
Her smile stretched wider, the joy radiating from her almost blinding.
“You have a bright future ahead, and I cannot wait to watch you stretch your wings.” She turned her chair, reaching back to grab a burnt-orange folder, my name sticking out at the top.
When she handed it to me, I couldn’t get my hands out from underneath my legs fast enough.
The folder was leather—thick and sturdy.
As my thumbs swiped back and forth, cherishing its softness, I raised my head, the question more than likely painted on my face.
“That’s the project file. Just a few reading materials for you to go over between now and January,” she explained.
“On the last page, you’ll find your other team members’ contact sheets.
Two of them are still on the fence about it, trying to decide whether they could manage it with their class load next semester. ”
“And you want me to be project lead?” I asked, needing confirmation and hating the way my voice cracked at the end.
Her head ticked to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. “If you can handle it.” Her voice was calm, but the underlying challenge was blaring.
I opened the folder to reveal the project title.
Small Business Blueprints vs. Trends
Professor Mandy Ashley
Project Lead: Margo Bennett
My eyes lingered on my name, etched into the thick cardstock, in bold face and italicized.
Professional. Worthy. Something warm bloomed in my chest, spreading throughout my body, causing it to hum with a sense of excitement.
It was unlike anything I’d ever known. I lifted my head again, eyes burning as emotion clogged my throat.
No one in the twenty-nine, almost thirty, years I’d been on this earth had ever been this proud—this sure—of me. “Thank you,” I rasped, unable to stop the first tear from falling. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Professor. I won’t let you down.”
Her smile slowly fell, her brows slowly pinching together as she studied me, pinning me in place with her brown eyes. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. It was all I could do. I didn’t trust my voice.
She looked at the folder now clutched to my chest for a moment. Then, when she met my eyes again, her words sparked joy. “You’re a brilliant woman, Margo. Never forget that.”
A few minutes later, leather folder in hand, I headed across campus to my next class, riding a high that I foolishly thought would last forever.
“Well, that certainly is wonderful news,” Rossy murmured, studying the title page, a small smile playing on his lips.
After my classes, I came straight to work, not bothering to stop and change on the way. I was too excited, practically giddy. “She said I was brilliant!” I whispered, looking over my shoulder in search of Carrie. I couldn’t wait to tell her.
“Of course she did, darling,” Rossy replied, pulling off his glasses, his brows coming together. “Because you are.”
I smiled at him before grabbing my apron, hooking it around my neck. As I reached back to tie it around my waist, Rossy gently closed the folder and leaned his hip against the counter. “Now, I do have a question for you, Margo, before you dive into your shift.”
The cautious tone of his voice had my spine snapping straight. “Oh. Well, shoot, boss man.”
“Shoot?”