Someone rapped on his door and opened it before Alex could say anything. Professor Kevin Eldred stood with his styled, graying hair, a plastic grin glistening with movie-star-white teeth. Whenever the guy turned on his smile, Alex expected a CGI light to sparkle on one of them. Kevin carried off casual professional easily in his suit and white shirt, minus a tie. The ladies loved him, but he always rubbed Alex wrong.
“Hey, Alex,” Kevin said, walking in without an invitation and sitting in the cushy visitor’s chair. He crossed a leg, spreading his arms out on each side. “Heard anything yet?”
“Nope.” Alex moved to his desk and clicked on his computer.
“Why do they always give us old biddies? We need a little eye candy around here.”
“Do you even know what that means?” Alex looked up.
“Sure. It means someone I could eat up.”
“It also implies they’re lacking in intelligence or depth.” Alex typed in his password. “That might be fine for you, but I need a working assistant.”
Kevin was about to say something when his phone signaled a message. While he dealt with it, Alex opened his email. There it was, a message from the Dean. A meeting with the new staff. Why were they waiting until the last minute? Irritated, Alex rose.
“Guess you got it too.” Kevin got to his feet.
They walked together, Kevin blathering the whole time. Alex had never known a man before who could talk more than a woman. By the time they got to the conference room, Alex thought his blood pressure would have popped a blood pressure cuff. Never a good way to start a semester.
After shaking hands and greeting everyone, the Dean finally called the group to order.
“I’m sorry for the short notice. As you all know, the president has spent the last year looking at ways to lower the cost of an education here. You remember the time management study completed last year. This new program is what came from that. It will be a test for this school year. If things go well, we’ll continue it in the future.” He turned the time over to his assistant and left the room.
Over the years, Alex had experienced too many “head desk” moments with the college administration to have much confidence. Looking around the room, he realized he wasn’t the only one who was concerned.
The Dean’s assistant detailed a number of changes that Alex thought put a lot more work on the professors. He knew times were tough and hoped no programs were on the cutting block. The School of Business would be safe, for sure. Business, like sports, always seemed to have its “boosters.” But history? Too often over the years, Alex had heard from many in the academic world that history was a fluff major. It was art, after all.
He was still trying to think through how differently he might have to work with his students and must have missed the assistant’s last remark. The door opened, and a group of middle-aged women entered the room. Beside him, Kevin groaned.
“What?” Alex whispered, sitting up.
“Weren’t you listening? That’s our administrative support pool. And not a piece of candy among them.” Kevin sat back in the chair, looking thoroughly disgusted.
“Why them?” No one looked familiar. Was the Dean not bringing back any of the previous year’s staff?
“The school got a grant from the Feds. Women reentering the workforce or something. They get partial tuition for salary.”
“Wait. Reentering the workforce?” Alex scanned the group, trying to see signs that any of them had skills. “We’re supposed to train them?”
The assistant Dean spoke up, calling off the names of two or three professors then the name of a woman.
Alex’s heart sank. Last year he’d had a great administrative assistant. Full-time, to himself. Now he was going to have to share the skills of one untrained person with another professor. Or two? Exhaling, he leaned back in his chair, awaiting his sentence.
“Our final administrative assistant, Francesca Davis, is running late this morning. She’s assigned to Professors Eldred and Diederik.”
The Dean’s assistant left the conference room, and Kevin went off in a huff. Alex took his time standing and slowly made his way to the door. He listened carefully to the various side conversations, trying to get a feel for the caliber of the new assistants. Didn’t he have enough on his plate right now?
Alex checked his watch and quickened his pace. Sam was supposed to meet him in his office before they both had classes.
She was waiting outside his door, looking almost normal in her dress and boots. All black, of course, even the lacy . . . thing around her throat. Alex wondered for the first time who was paying for her curious clothing. It better not be coming out of her school account.
“Hey, Daddy,” Sam said, sliding her hand dreamily along the wall.
“Is that new?” Alex asked, unlocking the door.
“Yeah.” She followed him inside and took the seat Kevin had used just half an hour ago.
“Did your mother buy it for you?” As soon as he said the words he knew he had made a mistake. Sam’s whole body stiffened, and she glared at him with tight eyes. Anymore, he couldn't mention the woman without his daughter blowing up.
He hadn't even said anything about Vicki. Alex clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger under control. Why were they always trying to cast him as the bad guy? If Sam was spending his money, he had a right to know.
“No, my mother didn't buy it.” Sam's voice had taken on a defiant tone.
“Did you use the book money I gave you?” Alex’s voice rose. “And where are your books, by the way?”
“I’m going to get used books.”
“Where are your brains? You know those go fastest.”
“Where are my brains?” She jumped to her feet, all the lethargy gone. “First you attack my mother and then—”
“I didn’t attack your mother—”
“Nothing I do is ever good enough for you!”
Sam wrenched open the door and stormed out of his office.
Francie was almost in tears by the time she reached the building. She had come to the campus over the weekend to get familiar with it, but she hadn’t considered trying to find her way through a mass of busy new students—all while in a panic. Late on her first day. What if they fired her? Like being an administrative assistant for two professors wasn’t terrifying enough. Why couldn’t the federal program have been answering phones in the admissions office or something?
She looked at the piece of paper again for the room number. One floor up. Francie had just reached the elevator when the doors opened. A tall man in a suit bounded out, almost knocking her down.
“Whoa.” He grabbed her before she fell, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he held her out from him, eying her up and down. “Well, hello there, gorgeous.” He gave her a flirty grin. “Why have we never met?”
Francie pulled away, her cheeks growing warm. With a wink, he let her go and jogged off. He made his way through the students, pausing to make what had to be teasing remarks, if she was reading his body language and the response of the girls right. Looked like some things never changed.
She pushed the elevator button again and started to wipe her palms on her skirt, but stopped. She didn’t want to get anything else on her suit. The elevator doors opened, and Francie took a deep breath. Walking down the hall, she searched for the Dean’s office. Please don’t let it be over before it begins. She opened the door.
“Mrs. Davis?” asked a pleasant-looking man, who was talking with the receptionist.
“Yes, that’s me. I’m so sorry—” Francie began.
“Don’t worry about it. You called and let us know. Professor Eldred should already be in class, but you might be able to catch Professor Diederik before he leaves.” The man gave her a room number and waved her off.
With a thrill that he hadn’t fired her on the spot, Francie limped out the door. Why had she ever thought it a good idea to start wearing high heels again? Today? She found the office room number, confirmed by
the name on the door, and was about to open it when she heard shouting inside. She stepped back just in time.
The door burst open and a pretty girl with long strawberry blond hair stomped out. Her headlong rush drove her right at Francie, who squeezed against the wall, almost out of the way. Their shoulders hit, and they both stumbled. As Francie steadied herself, she could see tears in the girl’s heavily made up eyes. Staggering for a couple of paces, she managed to stay on her feet then ran down the hallway.
“Come back here,” a man yelled from inside. He dashed out the door and halfway down the hall before it was obvious the student had made her escape.
Yelling at a student and chasing her down the hallway? That can't be my new boss. Francie couldn’t help staring at the compact, but solidly built—almost buff—man, who stood with his back to her. The angry energy came off him in waves, and she had to fight a primal instinct to run and hide. Giving a quick glance over her shoulder, Francie began to edge away. Maybe she could pretend she hadn’t seen. The man swore and spun around, seeming to see Francie for the first time.
“What are you doing there?” he growled. “Eavesdropping?”
“I, uh. No. I’m Francie Davis.” Her stomach twisted painfully. She had given up her old life to go to school. If she lost this job, she would have to drop out.
“Who?” His tone made it sound like he thought she was an idiot to think he would know who Francie Davis was.
“I think I’m your new administrative assistant.”
The man strode toward her then, fire in his dark eyes. “How good of you to bother showing up.” His mouth turned up in a sneer, and he brushed past her.
Francie's face flamed hotter than when the other man had flirted with her. She began, “But I—”
“You were needed here an hour ago,” the man interrupted, his tone now icy. “If you expect to keep this job, you’ll have to learn the meaning of two things—responsibility and dependability. I have no use for a slacker.” The professor grabbed a packet from just inside the door and turned as though to leave. He looked back and pointed to the inside of the office. “I have a folder on my desk. Let’s see if you can follow simple directions.”
Francie stood, shocked, until he had hurried down the hallway in the same direction as the fleeing student. With shaking hands, she stepped quietly into the office and closed the door. Sniffing, she put her purse on the floor by the front desk and went into the second office. She could hardly see as she lifted the single folder from the rigidly tidy desk. She took the folder to the outer office, sat down, and opened the file. A giant tear dropped, splattering his carefully written notes.
By the time Alex reached the outside of the building, there was no sign of Sam. What was wrong with him? He knew better than to play the heavy-handed card with her. The last thing he wanted her to do was to move in with her mother. Vicki had already said she and her new rich husband were planning a move to Europe and “what a wonderful opportunity it would be for Samantha.” It would be, but not under her mother’s questionable supervision. With Sam almost nineteen, if she decided to go with her mother, there was nothing he could do to stop her.
His anger had passed, and he couldn't believe he had just made a fool of himself in front of a total stranger. Alex glanced at his watch. The file he needed for his next class was in his office. Where that woman was. The memory of the hurt and confused look in her dark eyes made him cringe. After losing his temper twice in such a short time, did he dare face his new assistant again?
Feeling like an idiot, he hurried up the back stairs and slipped into the hallway. Alex peered around the corner just as the woman came out of his office, carrying the folder he had left for her to copy. He watched as she walked down the hallway, unable to ignore how well that black suit fit her. He straightened. That was not good. If she looked nice enough for him to notice, Kevin was sure to. Just what Alex needed, having Kevin’s eye candy working for them.
When she disappeared around the corner, Alex dashed to his door and went inside. The Davis woman already had a couple of neat stacks on her desk. A picture of a good-looking young man in a cap and gown sat next to the phone. Alex scanned the rest of the desk. No photo of her with a husband or a boyfriend. Kevin would spot that right away.
It only took Alex a second to find the file. He listened at the door before opening and peeking around it. The hall was empty, so he jogged to the staircase, relieved that he had made it without seeing her. He took the stairs two at a time and blasted out the door, continuing to run. By the time he entered his classroom, he was breathing heavily.
“Hey, Professor D,” a male student said from the second row. “Since you’re late, does this mean we get a free ride the first time we’re tardy?”
“You know . . . the rules, Reese.” Smiling, Alex caught his breath and went directly to the front of the classroom. He put his folder on the table and faced the group. “I’ll be in charge of the guillotine.”
“Sick.”
“Since a lot of your classmates seem a bit alarmed, Reese, why don’t you explain the tardy rules?” Alex grinned when the young man jumped to his feet and hurried to the front of the room. With Reese in the class, this period was sure to be entertaining.
“See, if you’re late you have to come up with a creative reason for your tardiness.” Reese leaned forward, taking his time to scan the room and make eye contact with every student. “And not just any creative excuse.” He straightened, pointing a finger toward Alex. “It has to fit the class material you missed because you’re late.”
Alex peered at him, his brows raised expectantly.
“Oh, yeah.” Reese gave the rest of the class a conspiratorial wink. “Professor D will take note of anyone who’s tardy. At the last class of each month, everyone with a mark will have to roleplay. “He,” Reese said, pointing to Alex, “gets to choose our roles.”
A girl on the front row raised a hand. Alex nodded for her to speak.
“What’s with the guillotine?”
“Well, this is History 2100, Revolution in History. Thank you, Reese. You can take your seat.” Alex picked up his marker and started writing on the whiteboard. “We will be examining the causes, character, and significance of political revolution in world history, concentrating on a major revolution of modern history. We’ll consider why revolutions occur, who participates in them, and what effect they have.” He turned to face the students. “If this isn’t the class you thought you were taking, please drop it right away. There’s a waiting list.”
By the time the class was over, Alex felt much better. He erased the whiteboard, wondering why he had been so temperamental lately. If Sam had come to his office after this class and not before it, he was sure things would have ended differently.
Teaching, like that class, gave him a high, almost like when he ran. He loved finding ways to light the fire of interest in the eyes of his students. He wanted his classes to be memorable, something his students could look back on in years to come. For so many of them, history was a tough course. They had lived so little themselves it was hard for them to relate. Alex liked changing that, bringing the subject alive for them, and helping them to connect with the people of the past.
He was just closing his folder when he remembered the new assistant. His high disappeared. Alex really didn’t want to face her again anytime soon. He glanced at his watch, feeling conflicted. She had been late which was unacceptable, but he should apologize to her. But if he apologized, would she think his apology excused her tardiness? Alex exhaled. Besides, he should probably talk to either her or Kevin right away. The other professor had to understand that Alex wouldn’t put up with any shenanigans with the help.
As Alex climbed the back stairs again toward his office, he hadn’t made up his mind whether he would try talking to Mrs. Davis or pull Kevin aside. Not that Kevin was noted for taking advice from anyone, and his mellow demeanor hid a nasty temper that Alex didn’t feel like dealing with. He needed time to gather his tho
ughts before deciding how to approach her.
He peered around the corner again, struck by the ridiculousness of having to sneak around his floor. If the Dean saw him, Alex would look like an idiot. Of course, he would look like an idiot to anyone who noticed him.
His new assistant came around the corner from the copy room then, and he pulled back just enough to observe her. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to skulk around after all. Except for the classroom, Alex struggled when he met people for the first time. Once he had a chance to get to know them, to trust them, he found it easier to open up.
As Mrs. Davis walked down the hall toward his office, she looked shorter than he remembered. A quick scan, ending at her bare feet, explained why. His lips twitched. She struggled a little with the copies as she unlocked his office door, and Alex almost went over to help her.
The memory of her hurt face flashed through his mind, and he hesitated. He really did need to apologize. To her and to Sam. But not yet. He used to be good at keeping his mouth shut when he was mad. Still fighting the residual anger from earlier, he knew that trying to talk to either of them now would be like stirring some dying, but still glowing, coals after a forest fire. He didn't want to spark anymore fights.
When Mrs. Davis disappeared into the office, Alex moved toward Kevin’s door which was ajar, indicating the other professor was there. The new assistant came out again, and Alex pulled back. Then he heard Kevin’s familiar, flirty voice.
“Well, well, well. So we meet again.”
Alex surged to the corner, peering around it.
“Excuse me.” Mrs. Davis tried to go around Kevin, but he stepped in her way.
“Hey, not so fast. You haven’t told me your name yet.”
“That’s because you don’t need my name.” She tried to stand taller, but it didn’t make much difference against the substantial height difference.
Second Chances 101 (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella Book 5) Page 2
