Chapter Twenty-Three
T hatcher had made what he hoped was a decent list of books pertaining to the life of Abe Lincoln and was looking at the online card catalog to find out which ones were in the university library. With a click of his mouse, he could place the book on hold and it would be waiting on him at the desk. This was the extent of his appreciation for technology.
A rap on his door startled him. There was only one person who knocked with that pattern. Amanda. “Yes?” he called.
She poked her head in the door. “Is this a bad time?” she asked.
“Nope. Come on in.”
She stepped inside, her curly gray hair sticking out in all directions. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But I thought you might like to know that the committee Dean White formed is going to start meeting next week.”
“And?” He leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head.
“And your biggest fan sure does seem bound and determined to bring you down.” She perched primly in the chair across from his desk. “Listen,” she said lowering her voice. “I probably shouldn’t even tell you this. I’m sure they could fire me for squealing.” She grinned. “Except I’d love to see how long it would take for somebody new to figure out how things around here work.”
She was right about that. He wasn’t sure she was replaceable. “What do you want to tell me?”
“I think they’re planning on asking a few of the professors to put together presentations this semester.”
“I don’t understand.” He’d never been asked to put together a presentation before. But he had an inkling who might be behind it.
“Word through the grapevine is that there will be a couple of professors who will be asked to prepare in-depth research about the trends in teaching and learning and how those apply to the history department.” She raised her eyebrows. “Basically, they’re looking for some ideas about how to bump up enrollment by the beginning of the fall semester next year.” She leaned toward his desk. “And do you want to know what I think?”
He couldn’t help but grin. It was nice to have Amanda on his side. The older lady had taken him under her wing years ago, joking that he was like the son she’d never had. “What’s that?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the assignment of putting together these presentations didn’t fall to you and to Dr. Langston. And, now this is only my gut instinct. But I’d guess that the department chair position will go to the person who comes up with the most pleasing plan as judged by the deans and the vice-presidents.”
What she said made sense. But he would have to hope she was wrong. Where would he ever find the time to take on another project, in addition to the Lincoln papers and his full class load? He sighed.
“I’m pretty sure your friend, Dr. Langston is somehow behind it. I’m not saying it was altogether his idea, but I’d feel safe betting that he at least planted the seed.” She shook her head. “Why no one else sees through that man is a mystery to me.” Amanda stood. “And there’s one more thing.” She grinned. “I’m pretty sure that same lady called again. You know. The one who called for you a couple of times last week.”
“Did she leave a message?” he asked. He made a mental note to check in with his sisters to see if either of them were trying to get in touch with him at work.
“No message.” She shrugged. “But of course, I could be wrong. It could’ve been a totally different person.”
“Probably so.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” And he wouldn’t either. Unless it was an irate parent. Or some new plan Langston had cooked up to needle him. “Thanks for the heads up about the presentations. Any idea when that assignment is supposed to come down the pike?”
“Soon, although I’m not sure when. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She gave him a wink and left his office.
He sighed and turned his attention back to the book list. He couldn’t worry about something that might not happen. But he could throw himself into the Lincoln project and hope for the best. Starting the next day at noon, it could have his full focus for the weekend.
For a second, his stomach jumped at the thought of tomorrow. Had he been stupid to agree to meet at Vickie’s apartment? And she was fixing lunch.
Something about that situation seemed so personal to him. He’d be among her things and get a glimpse into her life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a woman’s house. It must’ve been last year when Dr. Evelyn Simmons, the professor of European History, had invited the faculty over to her house for a holiday party. John and Megan had dragged him along with them, despite his protests. He’d been mortified because everyone was part of a couple except for himself and Evelyn, who was at least fifteen years his senior. She’d had a little too much of her “special” holiday punch and made a pass at him at the end of the night. John and Megan still teased him about it and to this day, he ran the other way when he saw Evelyn coming. Although John assured him that she probably didn’t even remember the incident.
But even so, that was nothing like tomorrow would be. It would just be him and Vickie. Compared to her, he felt so rough around the edges. She was so refined. He was afraid he’d spend tomorrow being afraid he’d use the wrong fork or spill something. Despite the fact that he was able to intelligently lecture his classes or participate in speaking engagements around the city on behalf of the university, ten minutes with Vickie and he turned into a bumbling idiot. She was so well-spoken, so sure of herself.
But even though he had a lot of apprehension, being an honest man he had to admit he was also looking forward to tomorrow. And while the thought of Abraham Lincoln’s hidden papers might have something to do with his anticipation, he couldn’t deny that the chance to spend more time with a certain green-eyed park ranger was equally exciting. And that was a foreign feeling in to him.