Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
He had not gone to the bonfire intending to hook up with anyone and had surprised himself completely when he’d kissed the woman by the shore.
He hadn’t been thinking about Maggie at all that night, not after she’d so clearly been avoiding him.
The possibility of anything happening with Maggie Linden had been nothing but a daydream, so he’d given in to the kiss, knowing he’d never see the woman again.
And now…had he always known, somehow, that it was her?
Back on campus, they were meant to meet in the botany lab in Ulmus, but Arthur needed to stop at Ferox Hall first. Before he’d left Atlantia, he’d sent an email to Dean Clearwater requesting a meeting.
The man had fallen over himself to schedule it that afternoon, but Arthur hadn’t wanted to interrupt his work with Maggie.
Or, if he was being honest with himself, tell her why he was meeting with the dean.
He knew Maggie didn’t want him to talk to Dean Clearwater about the budget mistake, but after she told him exactly what Evan had done, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his mistake had made her feel small.
She didn’t need to fulfill some bargain, shouldn’t need to wait for the next semester to confirm that she would get her money again.
He needed to fix this, and he needed to fix it now.
Edna greeted him warmly as he entered the administrative suite. “He’s wrapping up a phone call, but he’ll be ready for you in a moment.” He nodded, sitting in one of the leather seats in the waiting area. He leaned his head back, feeling all the hours he hadn’t slept the night before.
“How are things going with Maggie?”
Well, that woke him up. He looked over at Edna, who had a grin on her face that he might call mischievous. “Fine,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“I heard she was helping you with your little problem,” Edna said, waving a hand in the general direction of Ilex Hall.
That’s one way of putting it, Arthur thought.
“I’ve always liked that girl.”
He smiled; he couldn’t help it. “Me, too.”
She winked at him, just as Dean Clearwater opened his door and waved Arthur inside. As Arthur sat down, he began explaining to Dean Clearwater why he was there. “I know I owe you a report of our dissipation efforts, but there is something else I’d like to discuss first.”
“Certainly,” Dean Clearwater said, folding his hands and looking at Arthur intently.
“It’s come to my attention that there was a significant error that happened during my oversight of the budget committee.”
Dean Clearwater frowned. “Arthur, the budget has already been approved by the board of trustees. I’ve considered this matter settled for months.”
“I’m aware, but I need to make this right. The error was completely my own. We need to open the budget again and see if there is anywhere else we can divert funds from.”
The dean’s frown deepened, and Arthur felt suddenly unsure. He hadn’t expected the pushback from the dean, but so much of the administrative ins and outs of the college were a mystery to him.
“Diverting money from elsewhere will only underfund or defund another project. There is simply no more money in the budget to move around.”
Arthur leaned forward. “Then I will fund it. Surely I can give an anonymous grant to the project?”
“That’s your prerogative, of course. You can donate any sum of money and earmark it for a specific project.
” Dean Clearwater clicked a pen and shuffled through his belongings until he found a notepad.
“There will be some paperwork to complete, of course. I can ask Edna to get it prepared for you. What is the program you want to fund?”
Arthur hesitated. “Dr. Linden’s senior seminar trip. Twelve thousand dollars.”
Dean Clearwater clicked the pen again and didn’t write anything down. He looked at Arthur over his glasses. “This is highly unusual. Did Dr. Linden say—”
“No,” Arthur interrupted. “She simply told me that her project was defunded for the coming year, which I found strange considering its academic merits. I looked back at the records myself and realized the error.”
The dean sighed. “Very well. If you would like to move forward with the grant, we’ll get the paperwork to you.”
“Yes. I would,” Arthur said with finality.
Eager to change the subject once the matter of the paperwork was settled, Arthur gave the dean his report on the status of the pall.
“The unusual strength of the pall seems to be due to a planetary conjunction occurring above the confluence of rivers in the Wilds, near Ilex Hall. We’ve narrowed our research down to a plant called a gloaming creeper that has been used to counteract the effects of the confluence on spellwork,” he explained.
“We are working with Dr. Silva in the botany department on the decoction, but according to her guidance, it will be three and a half weeks before the decoction is ready. During that time, Dr. Linden will be adjusting the incantation and I the arcania to reflect the confluence.”
Satisfied with his report, Dean Clearwater dismissed him and told him to return the next day to retrieve the paperwork he needed to establish the grant for Maggie’s capstone.
As he walked through campus toward Ulmus Hall, he felt lighter knowing that Maggie would be able to enroll students in the spring semester for her seminar, that she’d be able to travel to Branagh’s yew field and finish her translation of Branagh’s Aubade.
But he also knew she’d be less than pleased by his intrusion. He decided to wait until the budget was sorted, the paperwork for the grant complete, and the funding turned over to the school before he told her.
The botany lab in Ulmus Hall was on the other side of the building from the greenhouses.
It was a circular, domed building whose roof and walls were constructed of glass panels that could be opened up to the sky with long levers.
Decoctions sometimes required time beneath the midday sun or a waning crescent moon to reach their full power, and, with the panels, the finicky liquids could be left in the relative safety of the lab while still being exposed to the appropriate celestial enhancements.
Someone had cranked open the panel that allowed in a cross breeze, so Arthur could see through the lab as he walked up.
Maggie was already inside, her hair tied up in a prim bun and safety goggles around her neck.
He stood outside, watching her for a moment as she arranged cucurbits and alembics onto their reserved workstation.
When she looked up, she caught Arthur’s eyes through the open panel, and her face brightened, a wide smile breaking across her lips as she waved.
The smile he returned to her probably looked goofy, a big, sloppy grin that he should try to hide a little better.
He knew he had a reputation for being a grump at work, but he had learned early on that there had to be a Work Arthur.
To get the kinds of results he was trained to expect out of himself, his work had to be above everything else.
It had been exhausting, and coming to Hawthorn was a way to untangle that, but it hadn’t been as easy as he thought. His old habits were hard to break.
The lab had a distinct herbal and medicinal smell that stung Arthur’s nose and eyes.
He’d get used to it in a few minutes, he knew, but he blinked back tears as the strong odor of various decoctions brewing in the lab hit him.
He walked through the lab until he stood across from Maggie at the table she had carefully organized.
She pulled out the sample box Dr. Silva had given them to collect the gloaming creeper and laid it gently beside the instruments.
Maggie looked up at him with a hesitant, almost shy expression.
He understood—what if whatever magic that had happened between them broke when they left her apartment this morning?
He wanted to come around the table and cast away her doubts with a kiss, but they were not alone.
He heard Dr. Silva or one of her assistants in the supply room, humming a tune along with a radio, and he was determined to follow Maggie’s rules.