Page 16 of Learning Curves

Disappointment sat heavy in her chest. Had Michelle gotten bored after teaching the same class for so many years?

Surely there was more to it than that. Maybe she was reaching, but Audrey felt like she’d glimpsed something darker behind Michelle’s aloof veneer over the last few weeks—sadness or loneliness, maybe both.

Did Michelle’s recent divorce have anything to do with her attitude change?

Audrey wanted to know the answer, even though she had no right to that knowledge.

The more closely Audrey watched her, the more she felt like Michelle was going through the motions, like life had worn her down until she’d just quit caring.

Michelle didn’t seem to have any friends in the department, which made Audrey all the more determined to become one. Audrey wanted to make her smile. She wanted to see Michelle come alive again the way she had on Friday night when they’d talked about their favorite artists.

“That’s all the time we have for today. The assigned reading is listed in the portal, and I’ll see you back here next week. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Audrey’s stomach pinged at those final words. Enjoy the rest of your day. Michelle had said the same thing at the end of each class when Audrey was her student, and it gave her the best kind of nostalgia.

Michelle turned up the lights now that she was finished with her presentation, and Audrey saw the exact moment Michelle spotted her, sitting in the back row of the lecture hall.

Her eyes locked on Audrey’s, and a smile tugged at her lips, the same little smile she’d given Audrey when she first saw her at the party on Friday.

Audrey loved that smile.

It might be small, but it packed a punch because it felt genuine, and Audrey wanted to bask in the warmth of it forever. Michelle looked away, directing her attention to several students who’d gathered at the front of the room to speak to her.

Audrey left her seat and made her way to the front of the room. The woman Michelle was talking to now looked like she was Audrey’s mom’s age, with short silver hair. She wore a hot-pink T-shirt that read “Masters of Mischief,” and had the kind of smile that made Audrey like her immediately.

The woman was showing Michelle something in her textbook.

Michelle nodded as she listened, then seemed to answer the woman’s question, becoming more animated when she spoke.

She was mesmerizing when she gave someone her full attention.

In this quiet moment with her student, Audrey again glimpsed the woman who’d been her mentor.

Michelle spent a few more minutes answering questions, until finally she and Audrey were the only ones left in the lecture hall. Michelle walked behind the lectern to begin packing up her laptop. She looked over her shoulder at Audrey. “Feeling nostalgic for my art history class?”

“Always.”

“It must be a bit of an adjustment, teaching at your alma mater, not that I would know. I’m teaching on an entirely different continent from where I attended uni.”

Audrey swooned just a little bit at the British term. She’d always loved Michelle’s accent. “What brought you to America?”

“My wife,” Michelle told her as she picked up her briefcase. “We met at Oxford, fell in love, and moved here to attend graduate school together in New York. It’s where she’s from.”

So Michelle had moved here for a woman. That was unexpected .

.. and unexpectedly romantic. Audrey still remembered how stung she’d been when her college boyfriend told her he’d accepted a spot at a grad school in California without even checking in with her about it.

He’d just assumed they would break up after graduation, and maybe she had too.

The idea of Michelle crossing an ocean for the woman she loved at such a young age sounded like something out of a movie.

Too bad it hadn’t had a happy ending. “How did you wind up in Vermont?”

Michelle’s features tightened. “Kelly again ... my ex-wife. She’s in pharmaceutical sales, and she got a job offer here. She’d always wanted to see Vermont, although we only intended to live here a few years. But once I received tenure at NU, it only made sense to stay.”

“Tenure’s a great motivator that way,” Audrey agreed.

Michelle nodded. “Are you headed back to Holman Hall?”

“I am.” And she was thrilled that they could keep talking while they walked together.

Outside the lecture hall, the woman Michelle had been speaking to was sitting in a chair in the hallway, looking at her phone.

“I love your T-shirt,” Audrey called out to her, pointing at the “Masters of Mischief” slogan on her chest.

“Thank you,” the woman called back with a bright smile. “It’s what my friends and I call ourselves ... and we try very hard to live up to the name.”

“Amazing. I love it.” Audrey grinned as she followed Michelle down the hallway. “Is she your favorite student? I think she’d be mine.”

Michelle glanced at her. “Nuala? Yes, she’s a lot of fun to have in class. A very engaged student as well.”

“What’s her story?” Because Nuala had to be in her fifties, and Audrey didn’t see many other students her age.

“Oh, I’m not sure, other than that she had always wanted to finish her degree and is finally getting the chance.”

“Good for her.” Audrey held the door for Michelle as they stepped outside into a sunny September afternoon. “I’ve barely seen you this week. Did you have a nice weekend after the party?”

Michelle’s expression brightened. “I did, actually. Very nice. You?”

“Mostly working in my studio, throwing some pottery. What did you do?” Because Michelle sounded more enthusiastic about her weekend than Audrey had expected.

“I started a new research project,” Michelle said, sounding almost bashful now. “Got caught up in it and spent almost the whole weekend at my computer.”

“Sounds like you enjoyed it, though.”

“I did,” she agreed.

“I totally get it,” Audrey said. “There’s nothing that compares to getting lost in an exciting new passion project, is there?”

When Michelle looked at her that time, the light Audrey had seen on Friday night was back in her eyes, and she was smiling. “No, there’s not. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Michelle lingered in the doorway to Audrey’s office, in no hurry to cross the hall to her own. She’d been looking for an excuse to have a closer look at Audrey’s art collection, and there was no time like the present. “Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing toward the nearest painting.

Audrey smiled at her. “Come on in. They’re all done by friends of mine. I like to think I got in early, and these will be in big demand in a few years.”

“You have some talented friends.” Michelle set her briefcase down in one of Audrey’s guest chairs and stepped closer to the painting. It depicted sunlight filtering through a lush green forest, and the play of light and shadow in the piece was quite impressive.

“I do,” Audrey agreed. “And I love getting to fill my office with their creations.”

“Is anything in here yours?” Michelle walked farther into Audrey’s office to examine another painting. This one showed the Northshire campus quad, and she recognized the signature in the bottom corner as belonging to an art student who’d attended during the same years as Audrey.

“A few of the ceramic pieces are mine.” Audrey gestured toward a shelf to her right that displayed a variety of sculptures, ceramics, and other freestanding pieces.

Michelle stepped closer to the bookcase, her eyes drawn to a vase that had been carved with an interwoven floral pattern.

The grooves had been filled with paint, creating a rainbow-hued background against the off-white surface of the clay.

It was unique, with an understated beauty that Michelle found captivating.

“That’s one of mine,” Audrey said.

“It’s beautiful.” Michelle’s words didn’t begin to express her appreciation for Audrey’s talent. “How did you create that back-filled effect with the paint?”

“Wax.” Audrey stepped beside Michelle, lifting the vase from the shelf. “I coat the vase with wax before I carve it. Then when I brush it with paint, it only fills the grooves, leaving the surface of the vase in its original color.”

“It’s beautiful and so unique.” Michelle watched Audrey trace a finger over one of the flowers carved into the vase. Audrey had such slender, graceful fingers. But wait ...

The turquoise band on her middle finger.

The short unpainted nails.

Michelle gulped air and then felt like she might choke on it.

She must have made a sound, because Audrey turned her head, and now Michelle was looking at her honey-brown hair and those rose-hued lips.

Oh. Oh no ... surely she hadn’t been fantasizing about Audrey on Friday night.

Audrey was her student, for god’s sake! Former student, but still .

.. Michelle must be at least fifteen years her senior.

It was so inappropriate. What was the matter with her?

Only Michelle could manage to screw up even in her private fantasies.

She wanted to dismiss the similarities between Audrey and her faceless fantasy woman as a coincidence, but that ring .

.. the ring was very specific. Michelle’s neck and cheeks felt like they might catch fire.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked. “You look ...”

“Fine. I’m fine.” Michelle took a quick step backward, banging her leg against the side of Audrey’s desk. For fuck’s sake.

Audrey reached out a hand to steady her, but Michelle sidestepped out of reach. Her heart was racing. She was losing control because of a turquoise ring worn by a woman she’d only just started to think of as a friend. And she needed a friend, dammit.

Why did Michelle ruin every good thing in her life?

She was halfway out the door at this point and at a complete loss for words while Audrey stared at her with confusion etched between her eyebrows. Michelle exhaled, smoothing her hands over her blazer to calm herself.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked again.

Michelle had no good answer for that question.

Clearly, she was not okay, but that was beside the point.

More importantly, she wasn’t about to let anything derail a potential friendship with Audrey, not when she’d finally found someone she connected with on an intellectual level.

Until their conversation on Friday night, Michelle hadn’t realized how absolutely starved she’d been for that kind of connection.

“Yes, sorry,” she rasped, not having noticed how dry her throat had become until she tried to speak.

She turned her head, coughing into her elbow.

Then she cleared her throat, relieved to have stumbled across an excuse for her bizarre behavior.

“I had a tickle in my throat and didn’t want to cough on you. ”

Audrey gave her a sympathetic look. “Your throat gets so dry after speaking in front of a class for a few hours, doesn’t it? I hadn’t expected that.”

“Yes, I always carry water with me.” Michelle coughed again. “And, you know, my afternoon tea ...”

“The infamous afternoon tea.” Audrey was grinning now.

Michelle just kept embarrassing herself in front of this woman, and yet simultaneously, she felt at ease. Something about Audrey kept drawing her back in.

“It doesn’t keep you up?” Audrey asked. “Drinking tea so late in the day? I can’t have caffeine past lunchtime, or I’ll be tossing and turning half the night.”

“Ah, but I switch to herbal blends after lunch. No caffeine. I just enjoy a hot cup of tea while I work in my office.”

“Very British of you,” Audrey commented, still grinning.

“I do start the day with coffee, I’ll have you know.” Michelle was surprised to realize she was smiling too. All this talk of tea had made her realize how thirsty she was, though. Like Audrey had said, lecturing left her parched.

Audrey leaned against the edge of her desk. “I’m learning so much about you right now.”

Michelle cleared her throat. “Speaking of tea, I’d better go start some before I cough all over your office.” She glanced at Audrey as she picked up her briefcase. “Would ... would you like a cup? I’ve got a nice herbal lemon blend I’ve been enjoying this week.”

Audrey straightened, and her expression reminded Michelle of the way Audrey used to look at her when Michelle was her professor.

She’d appreciated the admiration then, but now .

.. Michelle wanted to steer them onto common ground.

Colleagues. Friends. Two women who enjoyed stimulating conversations about female artists.

“I’d love a cup,” Audrey said.

“Perfect. Come on over, and I’ll get the kettle going.”