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“I’ve been busy grading.” I wave at the pile of ungraded quizzes strewn across my desk.
“Then let’s go. I just got back from taking a class on the Robert Frost Trail. I’m starving.”
“Professor, you should’ve eaten lunch,” I point my red pen at him and play scowl.
“Brat.” He grins at me. “We can discuss ideas for parents’ weekend events.”
“Okay, but I have to be back for my class at three,” I tell him, dropping my pen onto the ungraded quizzes and standing.
“Let’s walk to a cafe in town and grab sandwiches,” he suggests.
“They have amazing cookies and brownies too.” I wrap myself in my plum cashmere pashmina. “Sometimes they even sell cupcakes made by a local bakery.”
“Lunch first, little professor,” he admonishes like the Daddy he is. “Then dessert.”
I giggle as we leave my office and make our way down the stairs, the wood treads creaking beneath our feet. We exit Fraser House, where the School of Visual Arts is based. The Colonial-style building was erected in 1790, the year Pinetree College was founded, and has housed various departments in the intervening years. The historical buildings are just one of the many things I love about campus; another is how close it is to Main Street and many local businesses. We walk out into the sunny fall day and the faint smell of wood smoke and falling leaves.
When we arrive at the cafe, we order sandwiches, bags of potato chips, mugs of steaming hot chocolate, and the last available cupcake. I’m surprised that Mrs. Carr, the older barista, and Professor Martin not only know each other but are excited to see one another. Mrs. Carr abandons her post to come around the counter to give him a warm hug. During their brief interaction, I learn that he grew up in town and she had been his kindergarten teacher.
We find a small table in a private corner of the cafe. Conversation with Professor Martin is easy as we eat. I soon discover that besides photography, we have a mutual passion for nature. We both enjoy hiking, bike riding, and various winter sports. The conversation then moves to parents’ weekend and planning the department’s events.
“Wow!” I exclaim, looking at the squirrel with his cheeks full of acorns in the photo Professor Martin took on his field trip earlier. He’s showing me the photographs on the tablet he had taken from his bag. “You took this on your phone?”
“Yes,” he says, clearly pleased. “Some of the students took pretty good ones too.”
“You should do a cell phone photography workshop during parents’ weekend as one of our events.” I take a sip of my hot chocolate.
“The parents would probably be more interested in taking pictures of their kids,” he muses with a grin as he wipes the whipped cream off the tip of my nose with his napkin.
“Thank you.” I giggle, taking another sip but being especially careful not to dive nose first into the drink. Mrs. Carr really does make the best hot chocolate in town. “Or their pets.”
He nods as he swallows his bite and pops several potato chips into his mouth.
“Oh!” I exclaim. “I’ve got the best idea ever.”
He grins at me. “What?”
“I can ask Fawn if we could borrow some animals from the shelter!”
“Shelter?”
“She volunteers as a veterinarian for the local animal shelter,” I explain before taking the final bite of my sandwich and eying the lone cupcake waiting for me.
“That’s a great idea. We can include a monetary donation to the shelter in the proposal we give to the department,” he tells me.
“Yes, this is going to be awesome!” I’m getting really excited about the next month and how we can showcase what the department offers.
“You could start with a mini-lecture on the evolution of cameras leading right into the cell phone,” he suggests. “Ready for dessert?”
“Yes!” I bounce excitedly in my seat as he pulls the cupcake across the table toward us.
“Are you going to share?"
“Maybe?” I giggle, handing him a knife so that he can cut the treat in half. “We can even have an older camera for the parents to try.”
“Like a Polaroid, so they can take the picture with them,” he suggests, attempting to carefully slice the cupcake in half. It falls apart on the plate, but that won’t make it any less delicious.
“That’s a great idea,” I tell him as he pushes the plate with half a cupcake toward me. “If we can’t find any usable vintage ones, they sell remakes. They wouldn’t be authentic but would do the trick.”
