by Clea Simon
‘You went to La Patisserie?’ She reached for the bag. ‘Here, you can sit.’
‘No, really.’ Chris motioned her back and handed over the goodies. ‘I’ll get another chair.’ He handed her the bag while he went to hunt one down.
‘They’re still warm.’ Trista poked around. ‘Dulcie, you up for a sweet?’
‘As long as it’s not oatmeal raisin,’ her friend said with a smile.
‘I guess I should have brought coffee.’ Dulcie looked up at the familiar voice. Nancy Pruitt was standing in the doorway, closely flanked by Martin Thorpe.
‘Nancy!’ Dulcie beamed – and then caught herself. ‘And, uh, Mr Thorpe.’
‘Ms Schwartz.’ He ducked his head in acknowledgment and followed the secretary into the room. Trista had bounced up to offer Nancy her seat, but the secretary ushered her back down as Thorpe cleared his throat. ‘I come bearing good tidings,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ Dulcie chewed her pastry. She was curious, but a fresh raspberry Danish was not to be wasted.
‘You are officially off academic probation,’ Thorpe said. ‘I would have come by to tell you yesterday, but we were all quite busy.’
‘I bet.’ Dulcie took another bite. The way her adviser was standing there made her suspect he had more to say.
‘Martin.’ Nancy gave her colleague a pointed look. Dulcie, who had never heard the secretary address the acting department head so informally, stopped eating.
‘Yes, well, what with all the brouhaha, it came to our attention that you had missed the departmental meeting,’ said Thorpe. ‘And therefore you missed a major announcement.’
Dulcie swallowed, the last bit of pastry dry in her throat. ‘Yes?’
‘I should begin with an apology,’ he said. ‘I never should have let Roland Fenderby join your committee so late in the game.’
He looked over at Nancy, who nodded encouragement. ‘You see,’ he continued. ‘Roland was threatening me. My standing in the department.’ He cleared his throat. ‘He had become aware of a certain impropriety – an irregularity in departmental relations …’
‘Martin and I have been dating.’ Nancy rescued him. ‘And while we are certainly both adults, I am, strictly speaking, a member of the support staff.’
‘Making me liable for censure under the university harassment rules,’ finished Thorpe. He had dropped his gaze and colored faintly, and Dulcie was seized by a horrible thought. Everybody in the department knew of the relationship, and it was so far from what Fenderby himself had been guilty of. If because of that man, the department lost Thorpe, or, worse, Nancy …
‘Oh no,’ she burst out. ‘Don’t say it!’
‘Now, Dulcie.’ Nancy’s voice was gentle but stern. ‘This is a good thing.’
Dulcie looked up at her, and then turned to Trista, who was beaming. ‘It is?’ she asked, her voice trembling.
‘It is for me,’ Thorpe piped up. ‘Once Ms Pruitt – I mean, Nancy – found out what was going on, she spoke up right away.’
‘I knew Martin would never consciously sabotage you, Dulcie,’ said the motherly secretary. ‘And therefore I knew there was something else at work. Some pressure being applied.’
She turned to Thorpe and waited.
‘Nancy has done me the honor of saying she will be my wife,’ said Thorpe, coloring further. ‘She spoke with her colleagues in human resources, and there are no sanctions against married couples working together.’
‘Problem solved,’ said Nancy, with a grin.
‘Wow.’ Dulcie forgot all about her pastry. ‘Congratulations, you two.’ She turned to Trista. ‘You knew?’
‘Yeah, they announced it at the meeting.’ Her friend was beaming. ‘We all cheered. I’m sorry, I forgot you didn’t know.’
‘We had other things to talk about.’
‘Did I miss anything?’ Chris reappeared, with a chair. ‘Oh,’ he said, looking around. ‘I should have gotten more Danish.’
Nancy and her fiancé – it was going to take Dulcie a while to get used to thinking of him like that – left soon after, and Trista not long after that.
‘Did you two get a chance to talk?’ Chris asked, his voice soft.
‘Yeah.’ Dulcie nodded. ‘Did you know?’
‘I knew something was up,’ he said. ‘I figured you two needed some time.’
‘You’re a good man, Chris Sorenson,’ said Dulcie taking his hand. ‘I hope she and Jerry …’
He nodded. ‘They’ve been together forever. He’s trying to help her.’
‘We will, too,’ she said, and looked around. ‘When do you think they’ll spring me?’
‘Soon, I hope. Esmé misses you. Oh!’ He jumped up. ‘I was supposed to tell the doctor when your visitors had left. Give me a minute to find her.’
Dulcie watched him go, marveling at all the changes. Thorpe and Nancy getting married. Trista coming to terms with her vulnerability. Dulcie herself nearing the end of her dissertation. They were all growing up, she realized, as she lay back on the elevated bed. All moving on. She took in the empty room, the faint sounds of people and machines, off in the distance. The rare moment of quiet, of solitude. Did this mean … she didn’t dare voice the question.
‘Growing up doesn’t mean losing those you love.’ The whirr of machinery gave way to a soft voice, as the room filled with a rumble like a purr. ‘Even when we pass,’ said the voice, as warm as fur. ‘The love remains.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, there are so many who deserve my thanks: the eagle-eyed Karen Schlosberg, Lisa Susser, Brett Milano, Colleen Mohyde, and Jon S. Garelick all read multiple versions, and John McDonough kept me free of illegal searches. All errors are despite their care. Heartfelt thanks as well to Frank Garelick, Lisa Jones, and Sophie Garelick, who have encouraged and supported me. All at Severn House, who have been an author’s dream. Thanks, as well, to Linda Grulke, for your generosity, and, as always, to my dear Jon, without whom …
