We sit at my desk in the office he has set up for clerks and interns, and we comb through the contacts while he explains the significance of each name on the list. It’s hard to concentrate with him sitting so close by, but I breathe deeply, which allows me to get through it.
Hours later, we’re standing at the door, facing each other, ready to leave. It’s as if we’re both unsure about the answer to the same question—what do we do next?
“All right…” Derek says with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Tomorrow’s class.”
I search his eyes. I don’t want us to part ways for the night, but his last two words were a major wake-up call. “Right… and I’m your student, so I guess I’ll see you there.”
The corners of his eyes dip down as if we’ve come to the end of a sad chapter in our love story. “Okay, well…” He clears his throat. “See you tomorrow.”
I’m sort of relieved by the fact he doesn’t look as if he wants to see me tomorrow. It appears as if he wants to see me tonight.
“Okay,” I barely say.
“Okay.”
“See you,” I say with a weak smile.
I turn and walk into the night without a kiss—we don’t even shake hands. I’m fully hoping he’ll come after me as I walk to my car, which is parked across the street from the building. I open my car door and turn to look back at the office. Derek is still standing in the doorway, so I wave at him. He waves back. Goodness, his expression looks so heavy. I think it has a lot to do with the day he’s had, so I can’t take it personally. I get into my car and make a point not to look at him again as I drive off and head home.
The next day, I make it to Derek’s class, where my classmates and I are faced with a note on the door. Class is canceled. My heart drops. I could hardly sleep last night because I was so excited about seeing his face this morning.
The first thing that comes to mind is that he’s been arrested. I hope not. I dig my phone out of my bag and hold it. Should I call or text him? However, he made it clear last night that I’m the student and he’s the professor. Essentially, he reset the boundary.
“I’m half curious about who you’re going to call.”
The voice is so close to my head, I spin around and face Barbara. I put my phone back into my bag, but not because I’m being confronted by Barbara. If Derek needs or wants something from me, then he’ll call.
I wink at Barbara. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
I step around her and head to my Criminal Defense Clinic group meeting. It doesn’t start for another three hours, but I have enough notes to go over to keep me occupied. Barbara’s got a lot of nerve to confront me like that, and I hope I gave her something to obsess about.
The group meeting goes well, and all I have to do now is write my evidence analysis report. As soon as I get home, I check my mailbox. It’s overflowing with mailers and coupons since I’ve gone paperless with my bills and credit card statements. I shuffle through the envelopes until I see the invitation. I clamp the rest of my mail under my arm, open the envelope, and read the invitation.
The wedding is in eight weeks.
“That’s fast,” I mutter.
My phone rings in my bag. I contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but it might be Derek. The mail falls out of my armpit’s grasp as I take my phone out of my purse.
“Hello,” I say without looking at the screen.
“Hello, Naomi.”
I’m taken aback. “Dad?”
“How about we go out to dinner tonight?”
I slap my forehead. Damn it. I forgot all about Friday night dinner. “Sure,” I say cheerily.
“Meet me at Marcetti at six.”
“Sure,” I say again.
I tap End and stare at my mailbox. I’m anxious. Dick and I never finished discussing me working for Derek, and I’m sure tonight he wants to lower the boom. I’ll have to be ready. Tonight’s the night I tell him the truth—I want my independence, and that’s the reason why I can’t work at his firm.
I arrive at Marcetti five minutes before six, and I’m immediately swimming in the aroma of fresh garlic, cooked tomatoes, and fresh-baked bread. This is a fancy restaurant along the waterfront.
I walk over to the maître d’ and ask if there’s a reservation for Richard Sutters at six.
He checks the book in front of him. “Yes, he’s here already.” He motions to the pretty hostess in a light white dress.
She scampers over, smiling as if she really loves her job. “Thanks for having dinner with us tonight. Come with me, and I’ll show you to your table.”
I follow her as she bounces down the aisle. Glittering chandeliers emit the perfect amount of illumination, their light dancing delicately on the freshly pressed white tablecloths. I spot my dad sitting at a table for two in the middle of the room. The hostess leads me to him and pulls a seat out for me.
“Thanks,” I say as I sit.
“You’re welcome. Could I get you started with drinks?” she asks.
“I’ll have a club soda with lime,” Dad says.
“I’ll have the same,” I say.
My dad never orders alcohol when we go out to eat. If it’s not a champagne toast, then he rarely touches the stuff. He says he prefers an unclouded mind, plus he doesn’t like the taste of it. I never acquired a taste for it either.
“Great.” The hostess hands us menus. “Chris, your waiter, will be back with those drinks. Please enjoy your meal.”
My dad smiles gruffly, waiting for her to walk away before he clears his throat. “I’m getting married. How do you feel about it?” he asks.
Well, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed about my dad. He still doesn’t beat around the bush.
“I’m happy for you,” I say, and I genuinely mean it. “Alice is a great woman.”
“I know. I can hardly believe I landed her.”
I watch him with a tense smile. This is new for me. My dad isn’t the kind of man who’s accustomed to speaking from the heart.
“You’ve noticed some things have changed around the house, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
He squirms in his seat. Another thing I’m not used to seeing is my dad nervous. It’s not that he doesn’t get nervous, but he’s always done a good job of hiding it.
“You know, Dad, Mom’s been dead for a long time. If you fell in love, then you deserve to give that life a chance.”
He watches me with narrowed eyes as I wait for him to say something.
I drop my face, thinking I may have gone too far. “At least that’s what I think.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. I was hoping you’d say that.”
I lift my head. “You’re welcome.” I want to add that I meant every word, but this sharing stuff is new territory for us.
“So how are you?” he asks, his tone signifying a change in conversation.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“We haven’t talked about Elena’s passing. How are you handling it?”
I look at him like a deer caught in headlights. Is this a trap? From the moment we sat down, he’s been wearing his heart on his sleeve. I’m used to a father who keeps his heart much closer to his chest.
I clear my throat, which gives me the second I need to come up with an honest answer that will suit the old Dick—and the new one. “You know, Dad, I’m doing good. Not at first, but now I am.”
He nods, examining me as if he’s sizing up a witness on the stand. “That’s good to hear. You two were always like two peas in a pod.”
I grin. The memory of Elena and I playing on the lawn one rare hot summer day in Minneapolis comes to mind. My dad was younger then, and Elena and I had to have been seven or eight. We begged my dad to turn on the hose and spin the water in circles so that we could jump through it. He had just come home from work, and earlier than usual, but he’d agreed with such enthusiasm.
From that day on, my father could do no wrong in Elena’s eyes. She never understood why I didn’t
want to work at his firm. I had many answers to that question, but not until now do I really understand why. After my mom died, I needed something from him. I needed his heart. I needed him to let me cry. I wanted him to say that the two of us would make it. I so desperately needed him to kiss my forehead and say he loved me.
But he had his own way of making up for the loss he thought I’d incurred. My dad felt he had to make me stronger, which was why he was so uncomfortable with me crying. My tears made him feel as though he was failing. At one point he did check in on my feelings, but whenever I told the truth, he seemed uncomfortable, so I learned how to tell him what he needed to hear. That was the beginning of the void in our relationship.
Now I’m evolving enough to realize I’ll never get back those years when I needed more from him than he gave me, but I’ll certainly take what he’s giving me now.
I smile, just thinking about that comment he made about Elena and me. “Yes, we were very close—like two peas in a pod.”
He smiles at me too, and it’s the best feeling in the world. “And the job. I heard you started on Thursday.”
My face drops. “Oh?”
Thank goodness the waiter finally brings our drinks. Our conversation has been going so well, and now he wants to get into why I’ve avoided interning, clerking, or working at his firm for the last three years. However, I’m a little confused at the moment. Perhaps the anger which I had felt for him has subsided some since I sat down for dinner.
While the waiter is here, we each order a three-course dinner. Once the waiter leaves, Dad looks as if he’s still waiting for my response.
“You spoke to Derek?” I say.
“He had dinner with us last night.”
“Oh…” I’m baffled. He must’ve gone to their house after we left the office.
“He and Alice had to talk over some things. Then he and I talked about you.” He narrows an eye. “I imagine I’ve been a little heavy handed when it comes to your future.”
I exhale and drop my face. “Well, yeah.”
Dick chuckles a little. “Well, you know it’s only because I love you.”
Those last three words race through me like a shooting star. My eyes water, and I fight back the tears. “I know, Dad. I love you too,” I say with a smile.
“And it sounds like a good work program he has in mind for you. However, I want you to come to the gala with Alice and me tomorrow night. I think it’ll help get your feet wet.”
I sit up straight as bolts of excitement shoot through me. “Wow. Really?”
“Yes.”
I’m grinning like there’s no tomorrow. This gala has been going on for as long as I can remember. Last year, a lot of students who clerk for firms around the city were bragging about who they’d met and all the connections they’d made at the party. I felt a little left out, but I would’ve rather crawled for a thousand miles through the snow before I asked my dad to invite me as a guest of the firm. This is the first time he invited me, and there’s no way I’m going to turn him down.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’d love to go.”
I’m still smiling from ear to ear when our first course arrives. We dig in to our elegant salads. My dad tells me all about the cabin in Aspen—including the name of the street it resides on, every detail about the neighborhood, the ski lift, and he even said he’s already paid to get me outfitted with a new set of skis whenever I go up to visit.
The waiter sets our final course on the table. It’s a block of chocolate mousse with white chocolate crumbles and two hazelnut pralines on the side.
“About the house… we’re remodeling instead of moving into a brand new one.” Dad looks at me as if he’s testing my reaction.
“That’s a good idea,” I say.
“I want you to stop by sometime soon to check out the plans for the remodel of your bedroom.”
I slap my chest. “You’re going to keep my room?”
“Of course. You’ll always have a room in my house.”
I’m pretty sure I don’t need a room in my dad’s house, but by the look in his eyes, I can tell it’s more important to him than it is to me. I smile. “Thanks, Dad. I can stop by tomorrow and look at the plans.”
He smiles. “That works. Why don’t you have breakfast with us?”
I wink. “That works.”
19
The next morning, I head over to my dad’s house for breakfast. After we eat, Dick, Alice, and I head up to my old room and go over the plans for the remodel.
Alice waves her hands across a wall. “I was thinking we could blow this out to give you at least ten more feet of space.”
She’s talking like I’m going to live here or something. “Sounds great,” I say, mustering up the right amount of enthusiasm.
Her eyes are shining. She’s obviously happy I’m on board. “I want to make it look like a French parlor.” She shuffles across the floor. “We’re going to add some floor-to-ceiling windows here, build a fireplace next to it here…”
And on she goes about the area rug, the poster bed, and two built-in columns. I give her my blessing, and we move on to the first and second guest bedrooms and all the rooms on the first floor. Two hours later, we end up in the master bedroom. My mom’s presence resides here more than in any other room in the house. My eyes gravitate toward what I remember as Mom’s favorite things—the oblong floor mirror, the solid wood dresser, nightstands, and ornate poster bed. Alice is clearly more restrained in this room than she was in the others.
Dick looks at me. “We’re going to replace the furniture.”
I notice the look in his eyes is the same one from last night. I believe he’s asking me for permission.
A memory of Mom standing in front of the mirror, doing a final check of her makeup, comes to mind. I have her smile and doe eyes. For a long time after she died, I used to look in the mirror a lot just so I could be reminded of her. And then one day, I just stopped doing it. I haven’t forgotten about my mother, but at the same time her life, her existence, feels a million miles away—while being with me everywhere I go. Maybe that’s why I stopped looking for her in my face—she’s in my heart.
I show my father the same smile he seemed to find so reassuring last night. “You should donate everything you don’t keep to charity. Mom would’ve liked that.”
“Yes, she would’ve,” my dad says.
We stand quietly, giving respect to the moment. Once it passes, we go into the closet.
“We’re going to expand it,” Alice says quietly as she stares at the ghost in the room.
My mom’s clothes are still hanging on her side of the closet. I watch Dad study her clothing. Wow, has it really taken him this long to get over Mom?
Alice rubs his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Dick.”
My dad nods. It’s clear that remodeling has sent them on an emotional roller coaster. But by the way they’re looking into each other’s eyes, it seems they’re coming to the end of the ride.
Dad clears his throat and looks at me. “Is there anything you want?”
I slowly look away from his face and at the hanging garments. I walk over to rub the fabric of Mom’s yellow and green cotton floral dress between my fingers. “I always liked her in this dress. She looked so beautiful when she wore it—like a blond Audrey Hepburn. But I’d rather cherish the memories of her alive and wearing it.”
Dad nods. “I believe you’re right. Darla was very charitable. She would want me to donate whatever I can to a good cause. Oh…” He raises a finger. “But there’s one thing I’ve been saving for you.”
I look at Alice. She’s smiling as if she already knows what Dad is going to give me. He walks out of the closet and Alice follows him, so I follow her.
Dad goes to the dresser and takes a ring box out of his sock drawer. “Your mom would’ve wanted you to have this.”
He hands me the box, and I open it. I gasp and touch my heart. It’s a ring with one modest diamond encircled by encrusted
emeralds. The ring is elegant and beautiful in a very modest way.
“It’s amazing,” I say and slip the ring on my finger.
“It’s the first engagement ring I bought for your mom. I scraped together every dollar I had to buy it for her. I was just out of law school.”
I hold my hand up before my face. I swear I can feel Mom with me as the gems sparkle in the sunlight shining through the window.
My eyes water. I hug my dad around the neck. “Thank you, Dad. This means everything to me.”
Dick hugs me tightly. “You’re welcome, princess.”
The time we spent in my parents’ bedroom was so heavy that we decide to go back downstairs. Alice whips up quiche and garden salads for lunch. After we eat, we have tea and chat about Alice’s plans to open an interior design studio here in Minneapolis while maintaining a studio in Seattle. What I like most about Alice is that she’s a chatterbox. Because of it, we manage to avoid sensitive subjects like Derek and me, and my plans after graduation, which is less than two months away.
Instead I learn that Alice and my dad are planning a traveling adventure for next year. As they map out the countries and detail what they hope to experience, I refrain from asking my dad what he plans to do about work while he’s gone for half a year. I don’t want to open a can of worms, so I listen with oohs and ahs. Around four o’clock in the afternoon, I thank Dad for my ring and tell them I’ll see them tonight.
20
Nighttime falls, and the gala starts in less than an hour and a half. I’ve been studying since I left Dad’s house. I swear, the closer I get to graduation, the more hectic my schedule becomes. I rush into the bathroom to shower and keep it short—five minutes, tops. I dry off, apply a dusting of makeup and put on a black cocktail dress. The only accessory I wear is my mom’s ring. Once I’m ready to go, I do one last check in the mirror. Everything is in place. I snatch my purse off the table near the door, get my black sweater out of the hall closet, and head out.
The Professor's Heart (Her Perfect Man Contemporary Romance) Page 10