Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I understand.”
I had to suck on my cheek to avoid saying something I’d regret. Instead, I stared down at our linked hands.
“Look. I’m trying not to take your bad mood personally.” Sam sounded more irritated than usual, underscoring my ever-present worries that he’d eventually get sick of me and my drama and moodiness. “I don’t have to share your brain chemistry to understand how frustrating it can be to confront certain problems. Heck, I want to play ostrich about all these money problems.”
“It’s not fair.” I made a sour face, hating how whiny I sounded even to my own ears. “I’m doing all this work. Therapy. Medication. The group. Possibly another group. And it still feels like I’m digging out from under a pile of wet sand. Every time I think I’m making progress, more sand gets dumped on me.”
Sam gathered me into a tight hug. “I wish, like anything, I could make it easier on you.”
“And I wish I didn’t need anyone to give me special treatment.” As soon as the sentence left my lips, Sam released me with a pained hiss.
“Wow, Worth. Tell it like it is.”
“Sorry—” My apology was cut off by Marta hurrying over.
“Sam! We need you up front. A customer has a question.”
“Coming.” He gave me a last lingering look over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more later. Maybe before trivia night?”
“Is that tonight?” I groaned. Sam had missed the past few weeks of his weekly date with his friend group, a fact Holden had reminded him of at church on Sunday. And I’d possibly agreed to tag along, something I was dearly regretting right then.
“You don’t have to go.” His shoulders slumped. I was the worst kind of heel.
“Sam—”
“Later.” He scurried after Marta, leaving me to put my head in my hands. Not surprisingly, after that, I couldn’t concentrate on the spreadsheet. But I wasn’t ready to return to the front either, so I surfed away from the spreadsheet window to my seldom-checked email.
Huh. I had an email from an old professor, someone I’d reached out to at the beginning of the whole SEC investigation mess and never heard back from. She asked me to call ASAP. Luckily, she’d provided a number because I hadn’t kept any contacts when I’d switched numbers. Taking my phone, I slipped out of the coffee shop to sit on the far corner of the patio.
“Professor Jenkins?”
“Worth Stapleton.” Her cultured voice was warm and welcoming, a far cry from most who’d known me back in the Bay. “I was beginning to think you don’t check email or voicemail these days.”
“I don’t.” Realizing how that sounded, I backtracked. “That is, I just happened to log in and see your message. What’s the urgent matter?”
“I’m slated to teach a graduate symposium in the fall on SEC investigations.”
“Oh.” I supposed I was about to be exhibit A. The acid in my stomach rose to burn my chest and throat.
“Now, before you oh me away, let me explain. My graduate assistant has fallen through. And I thought of you because you’ve recently been through the awful process.”
“Yup. Been there, lost any shred of credibility I had, and I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know, Worth. I know you, and I’ve reviewed the case filings.” Professor Jenkins was nothing if not thorough. “You were tangled up in the whole mess, but the investigation couldn’t find any evidence of misdoing on your part. I’m inclined to agree because I know your character. I’m sorry. I was out of the country on sabbatical most of last year. I know your reputation took a horrible hit.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” My jaw clenched so tightly that it was hard to speak. I didn’t want to list off all I’d lost—the condo, my friend group such as it was, and my professional contacts, but I also wasn’t going to minimize the hell I’d been through.
“However, I always said you’d have a future in teaching, and I meant it.” Way back when she’d been a younger professor and I’d been at the top of my MBA class, she’d tried to get me to take a teaching fellowship. I’d considered it briefly, but my ego had enjoyed the recruitment process from all the big firms too much. “You’ve got a lot of knowledge to share, and you might as well put this sordid business to good use. In fact, spend a few semesters with us, perhaps work on a few papers, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the SEC itself hired you away. Might as well make lemonade out of lemons and all that.”
“Isn’t hiring me going to hurt your own rep?” I asked. She might be pragmatic, but the last year had shown me others were far less willing to help when their credibility was at stake.
“My boy, I’ve been in this game so long now that my reputation is the last thing I’m worried about, and if it takes a little smudge or two to get you working for me, well, I’ll risk it.” There was a clicking sound on the other end of the line like the professor was playing with a pen, undoubtedly while growing impatient with me. “Now, when can we meet to discuss the details?”