46. Chapter 46
Chapter forty-six
First day back in the office after the new year, Seattle: Benjamin
B enjamin dragged his fingers along his jaw, wincing at a couple spots where he’d nicked himself with a razor that morning. The three weeks’ worth of growth he’d negligently allowed to accumulate hadn’t gone quietly, leaving ample angry bumps behind as a reminder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so many ripped pieces of toilet paper scattered across his face, but he’d wager it had been sometime before high school graduation.
As he approached Dean McCaffery’s office, he performed a final exploratory swipe to ensure any lingering tissue had been removed then knocked firmly.
“Come in,” the older man called. He sat in his oversized desk chair, alternating between squinting at his computer screen through his glasses and above them.
“You wanted to see me?” Benjamin schooled his voice and features in the cool, unemotional affect he perfected in his time as a professor beneath McCaffery. While his boss proudly displayed everything that tumbled through his mind, Benjamin quickly learned that his own emotions could—and would—be used against him.
The dean raised a finger and then pointed to one of the two intentionally low chairs sitting in front of his desk, all the while not bothering to glance in Benjamin’s direction .
With nothing to do but wait, Benjamin lowered, choosing to ignore how his knees raised to the level of his nipples—freaking intimidation tactics. He’d been no stranger to them, especially when he’d been working at Hewitt, Moser, and Pratt and wanted his opponent to feel extra small. Lawyers from an opposing firm, the occasional colleague, even spouses who were about to lose their shirts—and, more accurately, most of their dignity. He cringed as the faces of powerless targets flipped through his mind like microfiche in a public library.
The highlight reel ended with thoughts of Francesca. He’d done his best to lord over her the previous quarter, to bully her into dropping the class. Fortunately, she was too tenacious. But how many other students in the past had he dressed down, belittled, or intimidated to the point of fleeing his classes? Shame crept up his cheeks. He’d left the law firm to redirect his skills and efforts into positive change. Over the years, he’d even convinced himself that he was making a difference, but the realization that he merely exerted his power in yet another tyrannical way made him sick.
“Are you quite all right, Clark?” Benjamin blinked up at McCaffery, who wore a quizzical expression. “You look a little green around the gills.”
“I’m fine. Just . . .” He searched around for some explanation that wouldn’t reveal the soft underbelly of his internal conflict. “I haven’t had breakfast yet. Too anxious to get into the swing of things again.”
Satisfied, the dean gave a perfunctory nod and leaned back against the pompously maroon leather of his chair. “Understandable.”
“You wanted to see me?” Translation: Get on with whatever this is so I can brood in solitary peace.
Benjamin’s boss silently buffed out his wire-rimmed glass with an old handkerchief he’d pulled from his breast pocket. After careful attention to the lenses, followed by a quick inspection of the hinged arms, the sparklingly clean eyewear found a home atop a crown of thinning white hair.
“I assumed you would know what this is about.” The thin line of McCaffery’s mouth gave nothing away.
Benjamin found he didn’t love this more emotionally reserved version of the older man and wished he would get on with it. “I do not.”
Wiry white brows peaked. “Hmm. I don’t know if that should be alarming or comforting.”
This game of cat and mouse was nearing the edge of his patience.
“A young woman came by my office yesterday,” he began.
“A young woman . . .”
“Yes, one of whom we are both acquainted,” he said, casually tapping arthritic fingers on the oversized desk. “Perhaps one of us more than the other.”
Oh no. She wouldn’t have. Benjamin schooled his features while anxiety churned in his gut. He never would have thought Frankie would tell Dean McCaffery about their affair. Yes, he’d disappeared from her bed like a spineless cad, neglecting to call a proper end to their rendezvous, but surely that wouldn’t trigger her to take steps that would ultimately end his career. He’d read her incorrectly in the beginning, but that was before he knew her.
So, what woman was his boss talking about?
“And who might that be?” Good, good. Aloof is good.
“Mrs. Clarice Brinnoman.”
Thank god. Benjamin nearly relaxed enough to sink into his chair, but he quickly remembered who sat across from him and steadied his spine. Brinnoman. Brinnoman. Why did that name sound familiar? Wait! “Mrs. Brinnoman, as in the head of the board of trustees?”
A sanctimonious smile curled across the dean’s thin lips. “The very same.”
This was about tenure. Be cool. Be calm.
“And what did she have to say?”
“That you’ve been approved for tenure.” McCaffery reached his hand across the desk. “Congratulations, my boy. You’re officially one of us.”
Automatically, Benjamin returned the gestures, noticing only the cool and dry fingers pressed into his larger, warmer hand. The dean chattered on, but his words were a muted jumble as though Benjamin’s head was underwater.
I got it. I finally got tenure.
That meant prestige and job security in a position that allowed him full autonomy to teach as he saw fit. To assist in creating lawyers who could go out into the world and make a difference.
Like he had?
He should have been jumping for joy, and yet the excitement he expected to feel was completely absent.
“This is wonderful,” he murmured because perhaps he could force himself to believe it.
“You should be thanking me, Clark.” Benjamin’s eyes finally popped up to meet his boss’s. “After all, it was my little stunt with Miss Miller that properly greased the wheels.”
Francesca.
He pictured her sitting in his class, front and center. Hands poised and ready to type, amber eyes challenging him as he prepared to pepper her with impossible questions. Remembered the chill of snow and the flush of anger pinkening her cheeks as she tried to out hike him during the snowshoe excursion. Flashes of honey golden waves sliding through his fingers and the heady scent of lavender and eucalyptus invaded his memories. She’d been so much more than he’d ever thought to give her credit for.
“—could do it. But you both proved me wrong.”
He’d missed what McCaffery was saying. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Francesca Miller. I hadn’t thought she’d be capable of surviving your class. But you must be doing something right because if you can teach an MSW student law—without the basics of civil procedure—well, let’s just say you earned your tenure.” McCaffery had come around the desk to clap him on the back, to congratulate not only Benjamin but himself in his clever scheme.
The scuttle of dread clawed up Benjamin’s neck. He’d wanted tenure for so long and he’d been convinced all along that he deserved it. But by the dean’s own admission, it took the success of an interdisciplinary stunt for the older man to go to bat for him in front of the board.
Benjamin made Dean McCaffery look good and in return he tossed a bone to the lab rat that had made it happen.
“What do you say we get your papers signed and dropped off with human resources? I’m sure you are excited to get your pay bump as soon as possible.” The charred laughter scratched at Benjamin’s ears, reminding him of the snide way his father used to laugh after he’d won particularly life-crushing settlements for his stupidly rich clients. After he’d helped to destroy lives of those with shallow pockets and limited power.
She wasn’t like us.
We’re strong. Resilient. I’m proud of you for making something of yourself.
Just like your old man.
The dean returned to his chair and pulled out a thick manila folder. “Sit down, son. I’ve got it all right here.”
With eyes flitting between his boss’s drawn brows, the pile of papers on his desk and back, Benjamin inched toward the door. This wasn’t right. All of this felt very, very not right.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out between thick swallows. “I need a minute. There’s something I—”
The raised voice from the office followed Benjamin out the door, but he didn’t stop. Not when he exited the building nor when he reached the edge of campus. His feet quickened, and while dress shoes weren’t exactly conducive for such activities, he succumbed to the urge and ran.