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CHAPTER THREE

THE GOFFMANS

“Dean Pratt?” Alice pokes her head into her boss’s office. She doesn’t want to bother him. The dean has been in a mood all week. Parents Weekend always stresses him out. Alice understands. These aren’t just helicopter parents. They’re UH-60 Black Hawks who are spending a fortune on the private institution and expect their money’s worth. They want face time with the head of the school to discuss their “ideas” or to gripe about this or that. Dean Pratt has three associate deans assigned to handle such matters and who, frankly, are better at front-of-the-house. But on Parents Weekend, there’s no escaping the parents.

The dean looks up from his desk. Gives Alice one of those stares over his reading glasses that reminds Alice of her father. The dean is about the same age as Alice’s father was when he left the family and never looked back.

“Yes,” is all the dean says in that get-to-the-point tone of his. He’d once cut Alice off mid-sentence, barking, “I don’t need to know how the sausage is made.” He’d later shortened it to just “sausage” whenever Alice went on for too long. So Alice rehearses nearly every encounter with the man.

“Natasha Belov’s parents called again.”

The dean exhales loudly. “She still hasn’t turned up?”

Alice shakes her head. It’s not the first time a student has gone AWOL. They always reappear, usually returning from an impromptu road trip or a bender, oblivious that anyone was looking for them.

“What does Chief McCray say?” The campus has its own police force, called CSS, that’s accustomed to the shenanigans of college kids.

“He said she’s missed all her classes this week. No one’s seen her since Tuesday.”

“Missing classes isn’t all that unusual for Ms. Belov,” the dean points out.

Natasha’s on academic probation and has been called before the student disciplinary board for alcohol and weed offenses on more than one occasion.

“The chief said they’re searching the Panther Beach area.” The last place she was seen, drunk or high and out of it. No one reported the girl missing until yesterday.

The dean sighs again. “I think we should have Dean Schwartz meet with the Belovs. He’ll walk them back from the ledge. Can you tell him to come to my office right away? And tell Professor Turlington I need to see him about another matter.”

“Of course.”

“And call Dean Morris, ask him where he’s at on my speech. I have to give it tomorrow morning, for goodness’ sake. He always waits until the last minute.” Pratt shakes his head in disapproval.

Alice nods. “I look forward to your speech,” she says timidly.

The dean’s forehead wrinkles like he’s confused. Like why would he give one lick about Alice’s opinion on his opening remarks for Parents Weekend? She’s his admin—his secretary , as he calls her, using the outdated term. Not someone who needs to worry about matters of substance.

“I’m a parent this weekend,” Alice reminds him.

“Oh, that’s right. How’s your son’s freshman year going?”

The dean always refers to him as “your son” because he doesn’t remember Felix’s name. They’re well into the school year, and it’s the first time he’s asked about Felix. He undoubtedly disapproves that Alice isn’t paying tuition—one of the few perks of her job, but a big one.

“He’s doing great. Thank you for asking.”

The dean nods, turns back to the papers on his desk. He’s done with her.

“Oh, and Alice,” the dean says, catching her before she’s out the door.

Alice turns, waits.

“That file I mentioned still hasn’t turned up. We need to be more vigilant about security. Last week, I saw two students in the lobby and no one was at their desks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Back at the reception area, Alice is pleased to see her favorite student sitting in the concourse.

“ Fe-lix ,” she says. She looks back to make sure the dean’s door is still closed—mindful of his comment about unattended students.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I didn’t expect to see you until the dinner tonight,” she says.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

Felix is tall and slender, with long-lashed dark blue eyes and a gentle smile. He hands her a chocolate bar. A KitKat, her favorite.

“You didn’t need to do that. And you know I’m trying to watch what I eat.”

“Oh, if you don’t want it…” he says playfully, pulling it away.

“Hand it over, mister.”

Some of the students are rude or entitled, but not Felix. He’s her precious boy. It’s been the two of them against the world for so long. Her heart swells with pride seeing him on campus, just one of the gang, as if they were affluent like the other families. As if they didn’t live in a dumpy apartment on the outskirts of Santa Clara.

As if his problems in high school didn’t exist.

“Is everything all right? Do you need something?”

“Can’t I just say hi to my mama?”

She beams at that. She loves it when he calls her mama , for some reason. Loves it more that he knows that and makes a point to say it.

Before she can ask him about his day, a couple bursts through the tall wooden doors. The man is in his fifties. His suit is expensive-looking but badly wrinkled, his demeanor intense, almost frenzied. The woman with him is more subdued, as if she’s in a daze, medicated.

“Can I help you?” Alice says.

“We’re Natasha Belov’s parents,” the man says. He has an Eastern European accent. “We need to speak to the dean right now.” A wildness fills his eyes. He’s clearly frantic about his missing daughter.

From behind the couple, Felix mouths, I’ll see you tonight , as he slips out.

The dean releases a groan into the phone when Alice tells him the Belovs are there.

“Bring them to my office in ten minutes,” he says.

It’s a mistake to make them wait, but Alice doesn’t say so.

Those ten minutes are excruciating. Alice watches the couple as they touch foreheads. She catches a few whispered foreign words that could be a prayer. With every passing minute, her heart breaks a little more, then her phone finally buzzes, signaling the dean is ready.