Chapter Nine
D elia slapped the desk then opened her laptop.
May as well start job hunting now . Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she willed them away.
All her plans were shot to pieces. How she’d have loved to stay in Renwood, to be near Tom and his family, to see Rubina and Jamie grow up.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. Deep, hard sadness lodged in her chest, and her belly burned with rage.
How could one man and his arbitrary decisions hold such power over her life?
She sighed and pulled up a career website.
With her CV, she’d find a position at another university no problem, and the road to tenure might even be smoother someplace else.
But Renwood was her home, and like a carrier pigeon, she always found her way back.
John Winter and his cold-hearted capriciousness had taken that anchor away from her.
What had come over her? Where had she found the courage to stand up to him when she’d taken on every bit of extra work and every stupid task he’d thrown at her for years without complaint?
Well, she could only swallow her rage so often. It was one thing to dig deep and exploit herself and quite another when John forced her to exploit her friends. This situation sucked, but at least she had rediscovered her spine.
Her head jerked up when the door opened, and John wandered in, carrying sheafs of paper. With a leisurely pace, he approached and presented her with the pages.
She gripped the edges of her desk and looked at him. “What’s this?”
“Your contract; two copies, one for you, one for us.” His stance was nonchalant as if their earlier disagreement had never taken place.
She stared at him without saying a word or moving a muscle. Too many emotions were cartwheeling through her to settle on one.
He steepled his hands together and coughed. “I thought you were eager to get tenure.”
She snatched the sheets of paper from the wooden surface and leafed through them. “Only my signature’s missing.” She narrowed her eyes and clutched the contract to her chest. “I’m still not going to ask Gabriel for any more ancestor teeth.”
“Yes, you made it very clear. Welcome to the faculty, Cordelia. Please leave our copy on my desk once you’ve signed it.” And with this, he left.
She punched the air in silent victory. This was it.
After years of struggle, the stars had finally aligned.
She perused the contract with the veneration deserving of a sacred document.
Light-headed with joy, she picked up a pen and placed her signature beside John’s.
Sparks of euphoria shot through her. She stretched back in her chair, folded her arms behind her head, and closed her eyes, letting it all sink in.
A few slow breaths later, she blinked her eyes open and grabbed her phone.
Tom answered on the second ring. “Hi sis, what’s up? Calling in the middle of the day, that’s not like you.”
“Guess what happened.” Finally, the time of hoping and despairing was over. She was as light as a feather, ready to drift heavenward on the next breeze.
“Delia, I’m at work. Can’t you just tell me?” he asked, his voice lit with amusement.
“Come on, one guess,” she insisted.
“Judging by your tone, it’s something good.” He gasped. “No way.”
“Yes.” She jumped up and bounced a few steps from her desk. “I signed the contract.”
“Oh my God, that’s fabulous. Congrats, well done.” His voice was warm with delight.
“Thanks, Tom, I’m still in happy shock.”
“Wait till I tell Anjali, she’ll be thrilled you’ll be staying in Renwood for good. Me too of course.”
“What a relief.” Delia let her head fall back. “Now I can safely think of having a baby.” She’d been waiting so long.
“Still planning to get pregnant via sperm donor?” he asked.
“Yes, and I’ll start looking for one straight away.” No time like the present. She was thirty-five and declining fertility could become an issue.
“I’m supportive, in case you’re wondering,” Tom said gravely.
“Good to know. I’ll lean on you for parenting advice if you promise not to lord it over me too much,” she teased.
“Would I do such a thing?” He chuckled. “Come over to dinner sometime. Anjali, me, and the kids want to properly celebrate your tenure with you.”
“I’d love that,” said Delia.
“Well then, sis, make sure to pencil us in.”
“Will do.” She rung off and lifted her handbag off the floor.
Right, first she needed to hand the contract back to John then she’d persuade Sandra to sneak out for a lengthy lunch in town.
Delia chose a fancy Italian restaurant with white table cloths in honor of her success. Two hours and a three-course-meal later, she and Sandra returned to the university giddy at their small transgression.
“No more slacking.” Sandra gave Delia a playful shove. “Off you go, and be a pillar of this venerable institution.”
“Won’t be half as much fun when you’re gone.” Delia squeezed her friend’s upper arm.
“It’ll be a while yet.” Sandra clamped her arms around Delia. “But I’ll miss you too.”
Back in her office, Delia took a moment to check her schedule.
The week was booked solid with lectures, admin, and research.
But on Saturday, she’d see Gabriel. Their painting sessions had come to an end, which was a shame, really.
She’d enjoyed them—not the standing still part, but their chats, the tea, the cake and biscuits.
He’d promised to show her the finished portrait, and she was dying to see how the whole thing had turned out.
~ * ~
“W hat are we celebrating ?” Gabriel motioned at the champagne bottle and two mugs Delia had unpacked from her basket and placed on the side table. He hadn’t expected her to make an occasion of her portrait’s unveiling. “So happy you no longer have to be my model?”
She laughed. “No. Not at all. I enjoyed posing as a hypothetical countess, and you know it. But I do have news that calls for celebration, and since you played a significant role in me reaching my goal, you deserve some champagne. It’s the real stuff; I splashed out.”
“Let me get two glasses. We can’t drink your lovely champagne from coffee mugs.” He left for the kitchen and returned with two cut crystal champagne flutes.
She grabbed the bottle, removed the metal cage, and popped out the cork.
“All right, spill the beans, what’s your great news?” He placed the flutes on the Louis XV table.
She held up the champagne, her face glowing with joy. “You’re in the presence of a tenured faculty member of Renwood University. Tenure is rarer than gold dust, I’ll have you know. I still can’t believe my luck.” With a flourish, she filled both their glasses.
“Oh, Delia, that’s fantastic. Congrats, I’m happy for you.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned into him. Was he hugging her too tightly? He loosened his hold. “I’d say it’s more to do with your hard work and less with pure luck.”
She freed herself and presented him with a champagne flute. “Just happy for me, not proud of me at all?”
“Oh, yes, terribly proud of you too.” He took the offered glass and clinked it to hers. “To Dr. Cordelia Wright, tenured faculty member of Renwood University.”
“Senior lecturer,” she specified.
“Goodness me, sounds rather grand.”
“Says the seventh Earl of Renwood.” She giggled.
“So, what’s next for the senior lecturer of biochemistry?” He took a sip from his glass.
“A baby.”
He coughed when the champagne entered his trachea. “Oh, my, that’s a surprise. Congratulations.” He swallowed hard, hoping to relieve the sudden tightness in his throat. “Who’s the lucky man?”
After hours spent in her company, he still only knew the most superficial facts about her. Had he only imagined their deepening friendship? It seemed like it.
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not pregnant but planning to be soon, via sperm donor. I haven’t taken any steps yet, you know. I had to wait until I got a secure income and hours that are a bit more regular. So, there’ll be no father in the classical sense.”
He knitted his brow, trying to make sense of the hollow feeling in his stomach. “But why are you planning to become a single mother right off the bat?”
“Is that so difficult to figure out?” She arched her eyebrows.
He compressed his lips and tried to ignore the heaviness in his chest. How foolish of him to assume she was single and heterosexual. “Erm, your girlfriend and you—”
She waved her hand. “No. You’ve got it all wrong. I could choose the conventional path, only I don’t believe in it.”
Her merriness confused him. “You don’t believe in relationships?”
“No. Not in long-lasting romantic love of any kind.” Her voice became grave. “Everything goes to shit eventually.”
He took another sip of champagne and considered her remark. “Why so harsh?” She was such a lovely, clever, and thoughtful woman, that it was painful to witness her renouncing any meaningful romantic connection.
“Let’s say I didn’t have the most convincing of role models...” Her gaze dropped, and an air of sadness surrounded her.
“Your parents?”
She nodded. “Infidelity’s a sore subject for me.
I’ve seen first-hand what anguish it causes.
It may start off well, with love, infatuation, and promises of lifelong commitment.
” Her voice grew louder, and two red spots appeared on her cheeks.
“Then boredom seeps in, complacency. Somebody new tickles the ego, then, in a blink, a heart’s broken and a family’s torn apart. ”
“Not all men are cheating assholes,” he said, stunned by her sudden ferocity.
“I know, Gabriel,” her mouth briefly curled upward, “and I’m not saying women are better people than men.
As a scientist I know that’s nonsense. But society stacks the cards against us, and men get a lot less judgment if they behave badly.
People cut them far more slack, while women are expected to be paragons of virtue or else. ”