Page 20 of Learning Curves

She crossed the campus and entered Holman Hall, taking the stairs to the second floor.

As she strode down the hallway toward her office, she hesitated as she saw that Audrey’s door was open.

Despite the strong desire to retreat to the sanctuary of her private space, she felt herself inexplicably drawn toward Audrey’s open door.

“Hi,” Audrey said brightly when she spotted Michelle. Her hair was in a high ponytail, the way she sometimes wore it when she was working at her computer. It made her look almost as young as her students, except for the unmistakable maturity in her eyes.

“I was about to have some tea if you care to join me?” Michelle could hardly believe her own words. She cherished her postlecture routine, the chance to decompress alone in her office, and yet here she was, inviting Audrey to invade her space.

“I’d love some tea,” Audrey said.

“I’ve got a spiced-apple blend this week. It’s almost like hot cider.”

“Sounds very seasonally appropriate.” Audrey stood, drawing Michelle’s gaze to the hunter green dress she wore.

It was snug across Audrey’s chest and down to her waist, where it flowed more loosely over her legs, which were mostly hidden behind the desk.

To keep herself from staring, Michelle turned and led the way across the hall, then unlocked the door to her office.

“You know what would go really well with that tea?” Audrey said behind her.

“What’s that?” Michelle walked to the electric kettle behind her desk without turning around.

“A peek at your notes on Eliza St. Claire.”

Michelle heard herself inhale. She spun to face Audrey. “What?”

“Only if you’re comfortable sharing.” Audrey dropped into one of the guest chairs in front of Michelle’s desk. The dress swirled around her ankles as she sat, drawing Michelle’s attention to black strappy sandals that revealed pink-painted toenails. “But I’m dying to see what you’re working on.”

“Perhaps.”

“What did you think of the class, by the way?” Something about Audrey’s tone seemed almost too casual, as if she didn’t want Michelle to know how much the answer mattered to her, but of course it mattered.

Michelle had been her advisor when she was an undergrad, guiding her toward her academic career.

“I thought it was excellent,” Michelle told her. “I especially appreciated the way you involved your students in the conversation, and I was impressed with how well they interpreted the painting. I’m sure they’ll be thinking about Susanna tonight.”

Audrey looked at her with a surprisingly vulnerable expression. “Yeah?”

“You did a great job.” Michelle knew Audrey deserved more than that, but her own vulnerability was rearing its ugly head right now.

She still felt raw and bruised about the class, but she was determined not to take it out on Audrey.

Michelle lifted the kettle. It was nearly empty, giving her an excuse to step out for a moment and compose herself. “I’ll be right back.”

She strode down the hall to the break room, grateful not to run into anyone else on the way. Once there, she filled the kettle with fresh water and brought it back to her office.

“Did you see the email from the Sustainability Committee?” Audrey said as Michelle walked back into the room.

“Not yet. Anything important?” She set the kettle on its warming unit and pressed the button to turn it on.

“They approved our paper-straw initiative,” Audrey said. “I know it’s a little thing, but I feel like it’s a start.”

“It’s a very good start.” Michelle sat behind her desk. “The little things do add up in the end.”

“I feel better about being on the committee now,” Audrey said. “At first, I was afraid it was all a waste of time.”

“Well, sometimes it is, but that’s just how campus committees are.” She set out two mugs and put a tea bag in each.

“So tell me more about this Eliza St. Claire project,” Audrey prompted.

Michelle hesitated, fiddling with the tea bags to buy herself another moment. “I ... well, I’m not sure exactly where I’m going with it yet.”

“But you’re excited about it,” Audrey said. “I can tell. Your eyes light up every time you mention it, and that tells me this is more than an academic article. So, maybe a book?”

“Maybe.” Michelle had been flirting with the idea, although she couldn’t seem to commit to it. Who would want to buy it? She might spend months sweating over something no one would ever read.

The kettle shut off, so she lifted it and filled the two cups.

Immediately, the scents of apple and cinnamon wafted through her office.

After replacing the kettle on its base, she gave each tea bag a quick swirl, watching as the water began to turn amber.

And yes, she knew she was stalling. She also knew perfectly well that she’d already printed out a few sample pages to show Audrey .

.. on the off chance she asked to see them.

Michelle valued her opinion, even though she was simultaneously hesitant to give her the pages.

This project meant more to her than most things Michelle worked on, and she was already in a somewhat dangerous mood.

What if Audrey hated it? What if Michelle had to watch her struggle to find something polite to say?

Why waste your time on frivolous projects? Kelly’s voice echoed in her head. Her ex-wife had loathed Michelle’s research projects. She’d found them a colossal waste of time.

“Please?” Audrey pressed, those blue eyes holding Michelle’s, melting her resolve.

Before she could change her mind, Michelle snatched the pages from her briefcase and pushed them across the desk toward Audrey, along with one of the mugs of tea. “It’s just a rough draft ... maybe an introductory chapter.”

“Yay,” Audrey whispered, taking the pages with a kind of reverence that made Michelle’s cheeks feel too warm. Audrey settled in her chair, reading quietly.

Michelle couldn’t bear to watch, so she booted up her laptop and began to clear out her inbox.

She found the email from the Sustainability Committee that Audrey had mentioned, as well as one from Kate, containing a “save the date” announcement for her daughter’s wedding in June.

Michelle added the date to her calendar, always glad for an excuse to visit London and to see her friend.

“Michelle . . .”

She looked up to find Audrey staring at her with soft eyes. Oh god. She hated it. Michelle steeled herself for Audrey’s polite excuses.

“I knew you had a way with words, but this ... it’s really good. It feels almost like you’re writing about someone you know personally, not an artist who died over a hundred years ago.”

Michelle swallowed. “Really?”

Audrey nodded, holding up the pages. “ This is the woman who inspired me as an undergrad. I had wondered ...” She drifted off, her expression shuttering, but they both knew what she’d been about to say.

It felt like Audrey was poking at the wound Michelle had reopened in that Women in Art class, and it hurt. A lot.

“Wondered what?” Michelle asked, her tone harsher than she’d intended.

“Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“Don’t make me say it,” Audrey whispered.

“Just say it,” Michelle snapped. She might as well hear it, to know that Audrey was disappointed in her too. Everyone else certainly was.

“I was wondering where she’d gone,” Audrey finished quietly.

“When you’re passionate about something, you just shine , Michelle.

You changed the course of my life, inspiring me to become a professor, igniting my love of art history.

I’d been missing that woman since I joined the faculty here, but I see her again in these pages. ”

“Oh.” Michelle lifted her mug and sipped tea to cover her reaction to Audrey’s words.

A lump had risen in her throat, and her skin prickled with discomfort.

She hadn’t expected those words from Audrey, not her brutal honesty about Michelle’s lackluster teaching or her enthusiasm for the pages.

And Michelle had no idea how to handle any of it.

“Where is this woman”—Audrey held up the pages—“in your art history class?”

“She got tired.” Michelle sighed. “And disillusioned. I ... until you joined the faculty, I think I’d forgotten she ever existed.”

Audrey blinked, her eyes glossy. “Please don’t forget her. I know I never will.”

Michelle didn’t know what to say, so she focused on her tea.

Audrey reached for her own mug, and for a few minutes they sipped in silence.

Yes, Michelle had been a more enthusiastic teacher at the beginning of her career, but she’d never been as popular as Audrey, certainly not within a few weeks of joining the department.

Audrey couldn’t even walk through Holman Hall without someone stopping her to say hello or continue a conversation about something.

Even Stuart seemed impressed with her, and that wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish.

As for Michelle ... she was more impressed with Audrey every day, even when she didn’t want to be.

“I’ve observed your art history class twice now,” Audrey said suddenly. “And one thing that struck me is how few women you mention in your class. I swear you spent more time highlighting female artists when I was your student.”

“Wow, you’re going right for the jugular today, aren’t you?” Michelle took another sip of her tea, stung and off balance. Her hackles were up, but she bit back the urge to snap at Audrey.

“Sorry. My tongue gets away from me sometimes. You don’t have to answer.”

“There were complaints from students,” Michelle heard herself saying. “Stuart instructed me to follow a more traditional curriculum.”

Audrey lurched to her feet, nearly overturning her tea in the process. “That’s bullshit! Are you serious?”

Michelle waved a hand. “Sit down. I’m always serious.”

Audrey planted her hands on her hips. “And you just let him get away with that?”

“Audrey, he runs the department. At the time, I didn’t have tenure. I couldn’t afford to make a fuss if I wanted to keep my job.”

“And now?”

Michelle shrugged. “Tenure isn’t bulletproof. You won’t get far if you make enemies within your own department, especially enemies in positions of power. Besides, I had my eye on a different class ...” She stopped herself just in time.

“What class?” Audrey sat across from her, still staring intently at Michelle.

“It doesn’t matter.” She would never admit to Audrey that Stuart had given her Michelle’s class.

“My point is that we don’t have total autonomy here.

Stuart decides which classes get taught and how we teach them.

I’ve tried—lord knows I’ve tried—to make a difference.

Campus politics are exhausting. Stay here long enough, and you’ll see. ”

“That’s just ... depressing.” Audrey deflated in her seat.

“Maybe it will be different for you.”

“But I don’t want opportunities you were denied,” Audrey whispered. “That’s not fair.”

“You already have them, but please, take them and succeed ... and now let’s please change the subject.

” Because being examined this carefully made Michelle want to crawl out of her own skin, especially when it was done by someone she was uncomfortably attracted to, someone whose company she enjoyed far more than she had any explanation for.

“Okay,” Audrey murmured, and maybe she’d read Michelle’s discomfort the way she was uncannily good at, because she indeed changed the subject.

“About these pages ... some of it feels almost conversational, like Eliza might start telling her story directly to the reader. Have you considered writing in that style? Like historical fiction? Because I think you’d be amazing at it. ”

Michelle stared at her, eyes slightly squinted as she tried to envision what Audrey was suggesting. “Like a novel? With dialogue and all that?”

“Exactly like that. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle admitted. “I’ve never written in that style before. I’d have no idea where to even start.”

“It’s just an idea.”

“Historical fiction—a novel —wouldn’t count toward my publication goal for the university the way an academic text would.” In essence, she’d be making more work for herself, which was the last thing she needed right now.

Audrey slumped even more in her seat. “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s something to consider.” Because while Michelle wanted to dismiss Audrey’s suggestion as ridiculous, she also felt the unmistakable stirrings of curiosity. The idea intrigued her.

It would be entirely different from anything she’d ever done before, but wasn’t that the whole point of this project? She was doing this for herself because she enjoyed it, and the more she thought about it, the idea of getting inside Eliza’s head and giving her a voice ...

It sounded like more fun than anything she’d done in years.