Second Chances 101 (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella Book 5)

by Donna K. Weaver

  “But you’re obviously an employee.” He acted like he was going to point toward a small batch of papers in her arms but took one of her long curls in his fingers instead, twirling it around. “Are you new? Working for the Dean maybe?”

  Alex was moving toward the pair before he gave it a thought. “Hi, Professor Eldred. Mrs. Davis.”

  Her back stiffened at the sound of Alex's voice. Was she more alarmed at him showing up than Kevin’s obviously unwanted attention? Alex slowed his pace, stopping a couple of steps behind her.

  “Oh, hey, Alex. I was just getting acquainted with this lovely lady.” Kevin gave a conspiratorial grin, like Alex was in on it. “She’s new here.”

  Pulling her head to the side and freeing her hair, Mrs. Davis turned to face Alex. Kevin shifted so he was at her side and even closer than when they had been facing each other. A frown crossed her face, and she edged away. Moving quickly, Alex squeezed between them, even though it placed them in an odd line, facing his office.

  “Mrs. Davis, I see you’ve met Professor Eldred. He’s the other professor you’ll be working for.” From the corner of his eye, he could see her blanch. “Have you finished my copying?” Alex gave her a subtle finger wave toward his office.

  “I have it almost finished, sir. I’ll put this on your desk right now.” She hurried away.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kevin said, not waiting for her to get out of earshot. “She’s our administrative assistant? I’m adding the Dean to my Christmas list.”

  The woman increased her pace, and Alex clenched his fists. She had to have heard that.

  “I want me some of that,” Kevin said just before she got through the door. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he seemed lost in his thoughts.

  “Did you really just say that?” Alex hissed, giving the other man a not-so-gentle elbow to the ribs. After a football scandal over a decade before, the college scrupulously held annual mandatory sexual harassment training—in excruciating detail, in which one of the school’s attorneys went over examples, lawsuit after lawsuit. After years of listening to those, no one could be stupid enough to do what Kevin had just done, not even Kevin. What was he playing at? “Did you hear me?” Alex asked.

  “I was just kidding.” Kevin finally looked at him, putting on his innocent expression.

  For the third time that day, anger rushed through Alex. “You listen to me,” he growled, spinning and pointing his finger in the man’s face. Even though Alex was shorter by a few inches, he knew his time in the gym made him seem bigger than he was. Wiry Kevin stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with surprise. Alex said, “I don’t want you upsetting our shared assistant. Call her Mrs. Davis. Did you hear that? Mrs. What if she heard what you just said? Do you want her husband coming after you?”

  “You need to take a chill pill, man.” Kevin straightened his jacket. “A guy can’t even flirt with a pretty woman anymore.” He shot one last glance at Alex’s door and shrugged. “I’ve got a stack of things for Mrs. Davis to do too. I guess I’ll go get them ready for her.” He turned around, put his hands in his pockets, and walked toward his office. Whistling.

  Alex shook his head. A confirmed bachelor, Kevin was forty-five—only a few years older than Alex—yet sometimes the man acted like he lived in the last century. This was the worst Alex had seen him. Was the guy going through middle-aged crazy or something? And it was only the first day of classes. Turning back toward his office, Alex paused and remembered his own interaction with Mrs. Davis. Was her husband going to come after him?

  When he entered the office, she was quietly typing at her computer. He thought back to the sparse instructions he had given her and was surprised at how well she seemed to be functioning. Maybe this was going to work out all right after all.

  “Do you need anything, Professor?” She was looking up at him.

  Caught watching her, Alex felt like a fool. Where he had thought to apologize to her, the ice in her gaze killed all desire. “Let me know if you have any questions.” He went into his office.

  Once he saw Mrs. Davis’s file, he realized why she had been placed with him and Kevin. Their schedules were complementary. Alex read that she was a recent widow, and her husband had died in June. And the first thing Alex had done was yell at her. Stellar. At least her husband wouldn’t come after him.

  Alex reviewed the rest of her information. Working full time and taking a full schedule of classes. His opinion of her went up. Good for her.

  Now for Sam. Alex pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text message.

  Sorry I yelled at you.

  I’m not talking to you

  How many times had she said that? Sam was quick to blow up, but then it was over. Usually. Alex prayed this was one of those days.

  What are you doing for lunch today?

  You’re dead to me

  Alex groaned. She was really mad then. After nearly two years, he ought to know better than to mention Sam’s mother in front of the girl. Early on, he hadn't been able to keep back his bitterness and hurt, even with simple things. Now, just mentioning Vicki brought Sam to her mother’s defense, almost as though the girl expected him to say cutting remarks, and she meant to stop him. Alex should be a better father and not put her in that position. Leaning back in his chair, he wondered if Vicki badmouthed him in from of Sam. Did his daughter come to his defense? Did he deserve it?

  It had been easier right after the divorce. Vicki had obviously been in the wrong. There was nothing like having sixteen-year-old Sam come upon her mother in a tête-à-tête to put the girl solidly on his side. Vicki had moved out a few days after Sam had tearfully called Alex to tell him what she had seen.

  Lunch at 12:30? I’ll buy you a salad.

  No answer.

  Be there or be square.

  That usually got a response. Nothing. A rap on his door brought Alex to his feet.

  “Come in.” He put his cell phone on the desk.

  Mrs. Davis stepped in and gave him a chilly look. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. Do you need everything right away? Professor Eldred called to say he has some things he would like done before lunch. Since you have a class in fifteen minutes, I thought now would be a good time.”

  Wondering how many more women he could alienate in one day, he considered warning her about Kevin. The way she had moved away from Eldred showed she must have a measure of the man. She might be offended if Alex suggested she couldn’t take care of it herself.

  “That will be fine, Mrs. Davis.” Alex picked up one of the folders she had made for him that morning. “Just so you know, starting next week, on Mondays I’ll have meetings with the history club. We’re cataloging potential new historical buildings this semester. I also have an open-door policy Monday through Thursday at three, but that doesn’t start until next week. I need my assistant to be present when I’m meeting one-on-one with students. Kevin, er, Professor Eldred has his student appointments on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, so there shouldn’t be a conflict.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll be sure to make note of that.” Mrs. Davis turned and stiffly walked away.

  Alex followed the woman out the door, careful not to catch up with her. He felt an odd sense of sadness at her coldness, and he determined, at that moment, that he would get her to forgive him. Kill her with kindness, maybe.

  Mrs. Davis had put her heels on again, and there was something endearing about the way she limped toward Kevin’s office. That suit really did fit her well. Not that he was looking.

  Francie woke up early Saturday morning to catch up on the garden. Boone's Blue Ridge Mountain weather was more like New England than the rest of the South, so she had a shorter growing season. With her books costing more than she had expected, she would be relying even more on her bottled food to get her through the winter. The price of college textbooks was nothing short of a racket.

  As she made her way down one of the long garden rows, the cell phone she had in her pocke
t went off. Recognizing the ring, she hurriedly wiped off her dirty hands on her ratty jeans so she could accept the call.

  “Rafe, you’re up early this morning. I thought a college student like you would have been up late on a Friday night.”

  “Well, you know.” Rafe sounded tired.

  “Don’t listen to him, Mrs. D,” shouted Rafe’s Montana roommate from the background. “He hasn’t been to bed yet.”

  “Rafe!” Francie paused and rubbed her temple with the back of her hand. “What are you thinking?” She had always been glad Rafe had never been drawn to the party scene in high school, dedicating himself—as she had—to getting the Harvard scholarship. Was he going to blow it all with his first shot at full freedom?

  “Shut up, Ethan.” Rafe’s voice sounded like he was walking, and a door clicked. “Don’t worry, Ma. We went to a frat party, and I volunteered to be on the Sober Crew. Ethan and I are checking out the fraternities to see if we’re interested in rushing any of them—not that any of the rich kids are likely to look at me. Ethan’s step-family has some connections, so he’s got a better chance of getting in. It’s still a good way to meet people.”

  “Did you?” Francie took a deep breath and bent over to pull a weed. She should have known Rafe better. He was a man now, but there was still enough of the boy to resent her interference.

  “Meet some new people? A few, but I'm not sure any of them will remember either of us. So, tell me about your week and the new job.”

  Francie wondered what to tell Rafe—not about being yelled at by Professor Diederik. At least she didn't appear to be at much risk of him firing her anymore. If anything, the guy seemed to be going out of his way to be nice to her. She definitely didn't want to tell Rafe about creepy Professor Eldred, who now barely spoke to her.

  “Everything is just so different from how I imagined it nineteen years ago.”

  “How about your classes?”

  “I was scared to death until my only in-person class had a student in it with white hair.” Francie laughed. “I’m glad it’s nothing like high school. Every teacher I’ve talked to has been understanding. I’ve already had to email a couple of them. Good thing I have easy classes.”

  An image came to mind of the handsome Professor Diederik sitting in his office, wearing dark, horn-rimmed glasses for reading. Since Francie had seen his schedule of classes, she knew if she had taken American History that semester, he would have been her instructor. It made her shiver a little. Was he a tyrant in the classroom like he had been to her that first day, or the nice but reserved man he had been since?

  When he wasn’t yelling at her, he was really quite an attractive man. Dark hair slightly peppered with gray, and an almost military cut around the ears and neck. The longer front that he seemed to like combed back sometimes flopped charmingly down his forehead. She liked it better than the way Professor Eldred wore his hair, which was longish and almost scruffy looking. Francie also liked the way Professor Diederik was clean shaven while Professor Eldred liked the two-day-old, not-quite-a-beard look.

  “You sound like you’re outside. Weeding already?”

  “Yes.” She pulled herself out of her reverie about Professor Diederik. Why was she wasting her precious free time thinking about him anyway? It was hard enough staying mad at him when he was being so nice. “I’m going to work on my homework later, while the jars are in the water bath. But tell me about your classes.”

  By the time she hung up, Francie had finished weeding and had filled a decent-sized basket. With Gran’s equipment, she and Rafe had been able to maintain the large garden by themselves. Alone, Francie was finding it a lot harder to keep up. She picked up the basket.

  Stopping, she shifted the heavy load to her hip and turned to stare at the neat, colorful rows—ripe purple eggplants, red tomatoes, the deep blues and reds of the berry bushes, the herb garden that kept going to seed. She would have to prime the okra again which was nearly done with its season.

  For a moment, it all overwhelmed her. There was too much to do. How could she work, and go to class, and do homework, and freeze and can food for the winter all by herself? What if she didn’t put up enough food to last her? Francie took a deep breath. No need to panic. It wasn’t like she had to feed an active, hungry teen-aged boy anymore. She only had herself to worry about.

  When had she come to rely on Rafe so much? She missed him, missed him coming into her bedroom after a date and telling her all about it, missed watching him play sports and going to his band concerts, how he would see her working on something and jump up to help, the way he had taken to jumping to her defense when Greg would say something horrible.

  What if Rafe didn't come home next summer? His roommate might get him a summer job at that ranch in Montana. Rafe would see it as the great adventure it was. He would jump at the chance . . . or would he? Francie thought back to the conversation in the graveyard and his offer to stay in Boone. She couldn't let him pass up opportunities because of her. It was time she got used to being an empty nester.

  She glanced around the garden again. Her practiced eye told her there was no way she could put it all up before the food went bad, but she would have plenty to share with the local food bank.

  Somewhat mollified, Francie took off her shoes at the door and headed for the large kitchen where she had the canning supplies out already. Rafe had wanted to plant hot peppers that year for the first time. She had found a yummy looking salsa recipe online she meant to try, and Rafe could tell her if it was any good when he was home for Thanksgiving.

  Alex lifted his eyes from the book, tilting his head to hear better. He glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. Sam had been true to her words all week, treating him like he was dead. Not wanting to fight with her again, he had played along. She usually came around when he did that.

  Not this time. When he got home on Friday, she had packed the bag she took to her mother’s. A quick check of her bathroom had assured him she had only packed the things she usually took for a weekend visit. What had she been doing there? Partying with her mother’s new, rich friends?

  The old clock in the hallway that had belonged to his grandmother rang midnight. His condo was off the beaten track; he usually liked the quiet little place he had purchased after the divorce. Now, it seemed oppressive. Was this what his future held, living alone here?

  The sound of a familiar engine purred up the street and into the parking lot outside. Alex let out his breath, relief flooding him. Sam’s car door slammed shut. Lifting the book from his lap, he tried to appear engrossed in it. He needed to find a hobby, so he could pretend to have a life.

  On the porch, Sam fumbled with her keys, grumbling. Before he could get up to unlock the door for her, it burst open, blowing a furious, swearing Sam inside. She stopped when she saw him and stared for a moment, her eye sockets blackened with the worst of her Goth looks. So it had been a bad day with her mother too. Through the makeup, her eyes glistened, and black rivulets ran down her cheeks.

  As Alex stood and tossed aside the book, he wondered if she was going to scream at him again. He didn’t say anything but held out his arms to her, as he had so many times when she was growing up. She wanted to come to him; he could see it in her eyes where several emotions did battle.

  He didn't move, and she finally threw herself into his embrace, sobbing as though her world had come to an end. What could have happened to upset her so badly? It took all his willpower not to ask her. Sam’s an adult. I have to respect that. He said it over and over in his mind until his daughter’s thin body stopped shaking. Then he guided Sam to the couch and sat beside her, keeping an arm around her shoulders.

  “Ah, baby—” he began then swore. “Sorry. I know you don’t want me to call you that anymore.”

  Sam giggled and looked at him, sniffing. “You make me laugh when you curse. It’s so not like you.”

  Alex reached over to the table, picked up a box of tissues, and handed them to her. While she wiped at the m
akeup—it was a hopeless case—he pressed his lips tight to keep from questioning her. She finally gave up on her face and looked at him.

  “Daddy, I’m sick and tired of having to defend you and Mom from each other.”

  “I’m sorry, baby—” He grimaced, and she giggled again.

  “It’s okay. You can call me that.” She patted his cheek, giving him a what-do-you-do-with-the-old-man eye roll that she hadn’t used since Before.

  Alex heaved a sigh. Anymore, everything was either Before or After her mother had left. He wanted desperately to get back the Before Sam.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex began again. “What’s between your mother and me should stay between the two of us. It’s not fair to you. I know your mother loves you.”

  Sam leaned over and laid her head on his lap, stretching out her legs on the couch like she used to do when she was younger. Alex swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and reached for the remote. Mystery Science Theater 3000 reruns were always good for a late-night laugh. His ex-wife had never understood his and Sam’s obsession with MST3. Vicki had never made an effort to.

  Alex tried to remember when Vicki had changed. She had always been fascinated with status and money. He had been too stunned at his good luck that someone like her—beautiful, chic, sophisticated—would consider the grandson of poor immigrant Germans to give any thought to her ambitions. He was young and in love. They had never talked about what they wanted out of their life together. While he went through college, Vicki had been supportive and encouraging, working full time right up to the day she went into labor with Sam. Two weeks later, she had taken their tiny daughter to work with her. Thinking back, Alex was sure that, even back then, Vicki’s goal had been for him to be a university president. Too bad she hadn’t asked him what he wanted.

  While his daughter chuckled at the ridiculous old science fiction movie and the host’s commentary, Alex worked hard to keep his breathing steady. What was his ex-wife saying about him? Whatever it was must be pretty bad for Sam to come home so upset.