“What was your name again?” my father asked, looking at Adam blankly.
“Adam Martinez.”
“Huh,” he said. It was clear he had no memory of ever having met Adam before.
“Adam and I went to college together,” I lamely explained to Brett. “He’s the new president of Fairfax College.”
“Wait a minute—didn’t I just see you get dunked?” Brett said. “That was epic!”
Adam laughed. “Yeah, that was me. I went and got dried off.”
“So president, huh?” Brett said. “Think you can get my kids into Fairfax in another ten years? I promise the two older ones aren’t as bad as this little monster.” He tipped his head toward Tate, who was now tearing fistfuls of grass from the ground and trying to pelt his brothers with them.
“Adam!” someone called out. I looked up and saw Tiffany bouncing across the grass toward us, wearing a gingham sundress and espadrilles, her hair in a high ponytail. A black-and-white shepherd mix was bounding beside her, snapping playfully at the ribbons tied around her ankles.
“Stop it, Charlie!” she said sternly.
Adam whistled, and Charlie immediately left Tiffany and trotted to Adam’s side.
“Good boy, Charlie,” Adam said, giving his dog an affectionate pet. “I’m sorry—he’s a little hyper. But he’s great with kids.”
“Is he hypergenital?” Tate asked Adam.
“What did you say?” Lauren asked, looking mortified.
“Is he hypergenital? Like our neighbor’s dog?”
“You mean hypoallergenic, dude,” Brett said.
“Here, Tate,” Adam said, kneeling beside Tate and pulling a chew toy out of his pocket. “Why don’t you throw this around for Charlie to chase?” Tate and his brothers took off, tossing the chew toy to each other like a football as Charlie ran around in exuberant circles.
While Tiffany introduced herself to my family, I turned to Adam. “Thank you so much for your help,” I said quietly. “Tate can be sort of a handful.”
“It was the least I could do. How’s your father adjusting to his move to Fairfax?” he asked, glancing at my father.
I sighed. “He’s not happy about it. I’m hoping he’ll settle in soon. I try to visit him as often as I can.”
Behind us, I could hear Lauren yelling at my dad. “I told you to stop picking at your scab! What did I tell you? Didn’t I say it was going to bleed?”
Adam was smiling at me sympathetically. Poor Anne, he must have been thinking, covered in dirt and dried horse manure and bits of hay, tagging along with her judgy sister, her three awful nephews, and her senile dad.
“Hey, Adam! Let’s go get some lemonade!” Tiffany interrupted, grabbing his hand. “I’m dying of thirst.”
“Oh, don’t let us keep you,” Lauren chirped. She was still smiling too hard at Adam. “So good to bump into you. I’m really impressed! You’re really something—” I could hear the unspoken “now” hanging in the air and wanted to strangle her. Even when she was on her best behavior, she couldn’t help but be condescending.
I watched as Adam and Tiffany headed off to the concession stands, Tiffany’s arm curled around Adam’s waist, her ponytail swinging jauntily, Charlie at their heels.
“Seems like a cool guy,” Brett said to Lauren.
“I always knew he’d do great things,” she replied. “Anne should’ve never broken up with him. I could just tell he was going places.”
I felt an ugly stab of jealousy as Adam and Tiffany disappeared into the crowd. That could have been us, I thought, happily coupled, with a dog and maybe even some kids by now. Why had I given all that up? What had I been thinking?
Before I could drown under a wave of what ifs, I shook myself angrily.
No, I said to myself. I have a career. A book manuscript. Students who count on me. I am not a failure. I am not a failure!
With a sigh, I turned and followed my sister back to the car.
From:
To: Anne Corey
Subject: hey
Date: September 29
hey ann, bex told me ur a professor. I just wraped a film called jane vampire. i know u guys read it in ur book club. im playing rochester, hes based on a character in a book called jane eyre, have u heard of it? im about to start doing press and wanted to ask u questions about my character and backstory, in case i get questions i want to be prepared. the roles a stretch for me, i dont usually do period stuff, but i hope to make the jump from tv and think this will put me in good position for a franchise. i can get u a postproduction consultant credit, let me know if ur interested. jack
*
From: Lawrence Ettinger
To: Anne Corey
SQUEEEE!!!! His messages are adorbs! It’s like reading an e. e. cummings poem!
On September 29, Anne Corey
I think he’s illiterate.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From:
To: Anne Corey
Subject: hey
Date: September 29
(. . .)
*
From: Library Circulation Desk
To: Anne Corey
Subject: URGENT: Library Items (3rd Overdue Notice)
Date: October 3
Dear Anne Corey,
The following Library materials are overdue. Please return them as soon as possible to avoid accruing more late fees. You currently owe $691.20.
Your borrowing privileges will be suspended if you do not settle your account. If you have any questions or would like to work out a payment plan, please contact us at—.
You can check your online account by visiting our website at: http://www.Fairfax.edu/ChandlerLibrary/AccountInfo.
This is a system generated e-mail. Please do not reply directly to this e-mail.
Total Overdue Items: 98
Due Date: September 1
(. . .)
*
From:
To: Anne Corey
Subject: Re: hey
Date: October 4
hey ann, thanks for agreeing to help out, i had a question that’s been bugging me. Why do they say jane vampire takes place in “—, north –shire, 18—” why don’t they tell u the exact place + date. is this a typo. j-dawg
*
From: Ursula Burton, Acquisitions Editor
To: Anne Corey
Subject: Manuscript request
Date: October 5
Dear Professor Corey,
We would be interested in seeing a complete manuscript of Ivory Tower: Nineteenth-Century Women Writers and the Literary Imagination. You can e-mail the manuscript to this address (MS Word only), and we will send it out for review as soon as possible. We should receive two reader’s reports by December. If you haven’t heard from us by then, please e-mail me.
All best,
Ursula Burton
* * *
Acquisitions Editor
Oxford University Press
Academic Division
chapter nine
“DIDN’T I TELL YOU Oxford would come through?” Rick said, playfully nuzzling my neck.
“Don’t jinx it!” I said. “I still have to wait for the reader’s reports. If they’re negative, I might have to kill myself.”
“Oh, Anne, don’t fret so much,” Rick said, massaging my shoulders. “What if I told you that the editor at Oxford is a good friend of mine?”
“Ursula Burton? You know her?”
“We dated briefly at university. In fact, to be honest, I think she may still fancy me. I told her that she must absolutely request your manuscript, that it was a terrific piece of scholarship. She was very intrigued.”
I blushed. “But you haven�
��t even read my book!”
“Doesn’t matter. I already know you’re brilliant. And beautiful, too.” He nibbled my ear.
Rick and I were sprawled on a blanket at the local botanical gardens, playing hooky from a department meeting. The weather had turned slightly cool—not cold, by any means, but brisk enough for a sweater or light jacket. We’d ridden on Rick’s motorcycle, an experience that left me simultaneously enthralled and exhausted. I couldn’t believe I’d done something so reckless—I was the kind of person who got anxious just getting on a bicycle. Yet Rick made it seem a great adventure, the two of us hurtling through life while everyone else was just dully shuffling along.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a stack of papers.
“Put those away,” Rick said, reaching for my hand. “Let’s play instead.”
“I’ve got to finish grading these,” I apologized. “I promised to hand them back two weeks ago!”
Leaning over, Rick picked one of the papers from the pile and began to read aloud:
Since the beginning of time, many people have dealt with the immortal question of love. According to Webster’s English Dictionary, “to persuade” means “to cause someone to do something by asking, arguing, or giving reasons.” The famous authoress Jane Austen wrote her magnificent book Persuasion in 1817. In it, she talks about the everlasting mystery that is love.
“My goodness,” Rick mused. “It’s got the trifecta: an opening that begins with ‘Since the beginning of time,’ a Webster’s Dictionary definition, and an assortment of empty clichés and editorializing. Not a very persuasive essay, if I do say so myself.”
“That’s one of the better ones,” I said. “Only ten more to go.”
“Just do a bullshit sandwich. One sentence about how it’s clear Johnny worked very hard on this paper, two sentences about everything that’s wrong, then one sentence saying ‘Good effort!’ ”
I laughed, swatting Rick’s hand away as he tried to grab the paper from my hand. He sighed and pretended to pout.
“You know, I have something terrible to confess,” he said.
“What is it?”
“I’ve never really cared for Jane Austen.”
“What?” I said. “How could you say that?”
“It’s true. I mean, how many guys do you know who actually like reading her?”
“Larry adores her.”
Rick gave me a look. “She’s pretty much writing oldfashioned chick lit,” Rick said.
“And what’s so wrong with that?” I asked.
“Come on, Anne—it’s a bunch of women yakking about frivolous stuff like eligible men and parties. Honestly, I’ve never been able to finish one of her books. There’s something about her that rubs me the wrong way, something I don’t trust—”
“Shut up!” I said, punching him in the arm. “I’m personally offended! This might actually be a deal breaker, you know.”
“OK, I take it back,” Rick said, grinning. He pushed the papers away, moving in for a kiss. “Now forget about Austen. This is much more interesting.”
*
PAM WAS SITTING AT her desk when I returned to the office, putting together a department mailing while talking loudly on the phone.
“I just knew she had her eye on him,” she was saying. “Tiffany’s practically moved into the President’s House, from what I hear. I bet they’re engaged by Christmas. A handsome guy like him and a pretty gal like her? It’s too perfect! Do you think she’ll take his name? Tiffany Martinez has a nice ring to it.”
Spying me trying to edge past her desk, she cupped her hand over the phone receiver and hollered, “Anne! Anne, come over here!”
“Yes, Pam?” I said. “Is it important? I’m kind of in a hurry . . .”
“I didn’t see you at the department meeting this morning—” she said.
“Oh, yeah—um, I had a doctor’s appointment I couldn’t reschedule. Sorry about that.”
“I wanted to ask you—my friend in HR says she saw you chatting with Richard Chasen at the student union last week. Is something up? He’s c-u-t-e! He’s got that David Beckham kinda look, don’t you think? The undergrads won’t stop talking about him. They’re in here all the time, asking when his office hours are, looking all googly-eyed . . .”
“Nothing’s going on,” I said. “We’re friends. That’s it.”
“Are you sure? You promise to tell me if something changes?”
“Sure,” I said, while thinking, HELL NO.
“By the way,” Pam said before uncupping her phone. “You look great! Did you lose weight or something?”
I hurried past Steve’s office and darted into Larry’s office, closing the door behind me.
“So where were you this morning?” Larry asked, arms folded reproachfully. “You missed a scintillating department meeting. Steve started reciting The Canterbury Tales in Middle English.”
“Sorry I missed it,” I said guiltily. “Rick and I ditched and went to the park.”
“You two crazy kids. Better keep it on the DL—Pam’s starting to get suspicious.”
“I know. She practically jumped me on my way in.” I sidled up to Larry and whisper-screamed, “Oxford requested my full manuscript this morning!”
“Wait, what?! Oxford University Press?”
“I got the e-mail this morning—Rick knows the editor there, and he put in a good word for me. You gotta cross your fingers that the reader’s reports are positive.”
“OMG, Anne!” Larry said, doing a happy dance with me. “This is amazing news! I’ll cross my fingers and toes.”
After a celebratory whirl, Larry bumped my hip and winked at me mischievously. “Soooooooo, I have some big news, too,” he said. “But it’s a secret.”
“A secret?” I yelled.
“Shhhhhh!!!! I will literally have to kill you and stuff you under the floorboards if you breathe a word to anyone.”
“What is it? Tell me!”
“It’s about Jack Lindsey.” Larry began to beam. “We’ve been e-mailing each other.”
“Oh God,” I groaned. “Did he ask you to be a historical consultant, too?”
“No! Even better—we’re kind of dating!”
“Wait, what? What do you mean ‘kind of’? He’s married! And straight!”
“Is he?”
“Isn’t he?”
“He told me he and Bex have an open relationship,” Larry said. “They apparently haven’t slept together since their kid was born.” He couldn’t stop smiling. “You should see your face. Now don’t go running off to TMZ or anything. It’s a secret.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“Oh, just a few weeks. I’ve been sneaking down to LA and meeting him at random dive bars and hotels.”
“So is that where you’ve been going on weekends?”
Larry nodded impishly. “It’s all very exciting,” he said. “In fact, I think we might meet up later this week.” He pulled a cheap plastic flip phone from his pocket and started scrolling through his text messages.
“Wait, what’s that?” I asked. “Is that a burner phone? What is this, The Wire?”
“Jack gave it to me, just in case, you know, someone tries to tap his phone.” He paused to read a message. “Hey—what are you doing Friday?” he asked me.
“I’ll be at the Huntington,” I said. “One more set of Brontë letters to read, then I’m sending the full manuscript off to Oxford.”
“Can I hitch a ride with you?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why? Are you meeting Jack at the Huntington?”
“No, not exactly—I was wondering if I could drop you off at the library and then borrow your car for the day. I’ll pick you up whenever you’re ready.”
“Wait—why don’t we just take your car then?”
“Jack’s paranoid,” Larry sighed. “He doesn’t want the paps to be able to trace my plates. He specifically asked that I borrow someone else’s car, or eve
n get a rental.”
“Oh, great—so now the paps are gonna think I’m the one having an affair with Jack Lindsey?”
“You wish.”
“The things I do for you,” I said, laughing and heading to the door.
“Hey—where are you going?” Larry asked. “I still have more to tell you about Jack!”
“Sorry, Lar. I’ve got to run—I’ve got a fund-raising meeting with Tiffany, then I have to somehow get ninety-eight books back to the library and sweet-talk them into waiving my late fees. Wish me luck.”
“Aw, poor baby,” Larry said. “Good luck!”
*
TIFFANY HAD RESERVED A large conference room for the training session, placing shiny red Fairfax binders and Fairfax-branded bottles of water at each seat. She gave me a thumbs-up as I came in and slid into a seat toward the back. I tuned out as she launched into a slick slide-show presentation, then walked us through our binders full of numbers and factoids, renderings of prospective buildings, and a thick booklet of phone numbers. I was in charge of supervising a phone bank, heading a team of volunteers who would cold-call alums and parents to wheedle for donations. Tiffany had included a sample script to follow.
1. Hello! May I please speak to?
2. This is from the Thrive! Fairfax Capital Campaign! I am an alum/professor/friend of Fairfax College. Is this a convenient time to talk? I promise it will only take a few minutes.
3. [If alum has given before:] Thank you for your past support of Fairfax College. We appreciate your generosity.
4. We’re calling alumni tonight to speak to them about our exciting new capital campaign to help support financial aid and fund library and dormitory renovations. I know Fairfax College means a lot to you, just as it means a lot to me. [Include personal story about what Fairfax means to you.]
5. Would you consider a gift of $ to support the Thrive! Capital Campaign and future generations of Fairfax students?
I blanched. I was terrible at asking for money.
“I can’t do this,” I texted Larry. “Can I quit?”
A few seconds later, Larry texted back: “Lean in, bitch!”
“Remember, it’s not the amount that counts,” Tiffany was yelling. “We just want sky-high participation numbers! Are you all with me???”
By the Book Page 10