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Colin hadn’t been joking about his grandfather’s penchant for medieval history. Or books for that matter. They were stacked in piles everywhere, on the floor, the nightstands, the dresser. The sharp corners of a few poked out from the half-closed closet like they were chancing an escape.
This old man had not yet spoken a word to her, and Allison already loved him.
His frame challenged Colin’s for the title of most spindly ever, hardly taking up any room in the reclining seat. Short silver-gray hair stuck up at all angles on the top of his head as if he were endlessly running his fingers through it, and his cheeks were sunken and sallow. Yet the smile he offered was as bright and charming as his grandson’s.
“Aunt Jane,” Colin greeted the woman perched on the sofa. She looked to be in her mid-to-late forties, grave in expression, and stylish but subdued in attire. She tucked strands of her sleek, auburn bob behind her ear as her nephew leaned down to kiss her cheek.
With a start, Allison realized she recognized the woman from Claymore’s promotional materials. The Dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences: Jane Evans.
Her fingers sunk into the hem of her sweater.Thiswas Colin’s aunt? The one who’d been ready to play a rousing game of Wheel of Nepotism for him? She worked at Claymore? Was their program the one she would have snuck Colin into?
No wonder he’d been so tight-lipped about it. As unfair as it was, Allison’s brain was already devising a million scenarios where Jane forced her nephew’s way into the grad school without his knowledge or consent. Imagine what Ethan Windbag would do with that kind of information. He’d have Colin in the stocks out on the quad, regardless of how much Colin deserved to be in this program.
Allison was thankful when Colin’s grandfather asked, “Who’s thisyoung lady?,” interrupting her thoughts. She moved closer to Colin and stretched out her hand. “I’m Allison.”
“And this”—Colin tipped his hip so the puppy in his arms was on full display—“is Monty.” He then quickly introduced his grandfather and aunt as “Granddad and Jane.”
The old man huffed. “I don’t get a name?”
Colin laughed. “My apologies. Allison, this is Charlie.”
But Charlie was too distracted by Monty to hear the correction. His narrow face puckered as he cooed and smacked out loud kisses. “Who’s a good boy?” His voice was high-pitched in that way everyone addressed dogs and babies. “Is it you? Can it be you?” The Corgi was slathering Charlie’s face with licks before Colin’s grandfather had him fully in his lap.
“So how do you two know each other?” Jane motioned for them to sit on the couch.
Allison took the cushion beside her, Colin balancing on the arm.
“We went to Brown together,” Allison said. “And now we’re in the same cohort at Claymore.”
Jane’s brown eyes sparked. “Allison… Avery?”
Allison nodded, though her thoughts began to race.
A WCS FOR WHEN YOUR ACADEMIC DEAN RECOGNIZES YOU BARELY SIX WEEKS INTO CLASSES
The administration had her on some secret watch list because of internet searches she’d done on campus.
She had mistakenly been admitted to the program and no one had figured out how to tell her.
One of her recitation students had taken their complaints about her teaching to the administration.
She found herself panicking at the thought of that last one until Aunt Jane said, “Wendy Francesravesabout you,” causing Allison’s heart to race for an entirely new reason.
“She does?” Allison and Colin asked in unison. He’d been holding her hand, but now it felt more like he was crushing it.
Jane’s bob feathered in time with her nod. “She’s so impressed by the knowledge of the field you already have and by your analytical skills. She believes you’ve got a great career ahead of you.”
Allison was falling. Down and down and down. Chasing Alice into Wonderland.
Could everything she wanted—that she’d worked so hard for—already be within reach? Even after only half a semester, could Wendy see Allison’s potential?
No. Fuck that. Not her potential. Hervalue.She believed Allison could have a career in academia. That Allison-shaped hole in her field existed. She simply had to step into it.
Pride warmed her face as she glanced back at Colin. His smile was plastic.
Hearing that your professor was raving about your direct competition had to be about as enjoyable as a colonoscopy. She bumped his knee. “You know, Colin is Wendy’s teaching assistant, too. And his students love him.”
Jane’s face lit up. “Do they now?”
