“Are you cold? I’ll ask Christopher to seat us near the fireplace.” Gabriel moved to signal to the waiter, but Julia stopped him.
“I like to people watch,” she said shyly.
“Me too,” he admitted. “But you look like a Yeti.”
Julia reddened.
“Forgive me,” he hastened to add. “But surely we can do better than a lambskin rug that has been God knows where. It probably used to grace the floor of Christopher’s apartment. And who knows what kind of shenanigans went down on it.”
Did he just use the word shenanigans in a sentence?
And with that, Professor Emerson gracefully pulled his British-racing-green cashmere sweater over his pretentious bow tie and head and handed it to her. Julia accepted it and moved the objectionable Yeti-like carpet to one side. She gently pulled on his generously-sized sweater.
“Better?” he smiled, trying to smooth his now mussed hair.
“Better.” She smiled, feeling much warmer and very comfortable, blanketed in the warmth and scent that was Gabriel. She folded up the cuffs considerably because his arms were much longer than hers.
“Did you go to Lobby on Tuesday?” she asked.
“No. Now, why don’t you tell me about your proposal?” His tone immediately became businesslike and professorial.
Thankfully, Christopher interrupted them at that moment to take their order, which gave Julia precious minutes to gather her thoughts.
“Their Caesar salads are quite good, as are their Neapolitan pizzas.
But they are both a bit large for one person. Are you the type to share?”
Gabriel asked.
Julia’s mouth dropped open.
“I mean, would you share with me, please? Or you could order whatever you like. Perhaps you don’t want salad and pizza.” Gabriel frowned, trying very hard not to be an overbearing, domineering professor for at least five minutes.
Christopher tapped his foot quietly, for he did not want The Professor to notice his impatience. He’d seen The Professor when he was irritated and did not wish to witness a repeat performance. Although perhaps he would behave differently now that he had female companionship (which was Christopher’s professional prescription for any kind of personality disorder, small or large).
“I’d like to share pizza and a salad with you. Thank you.” Julia’s quiet voice ended the deliberations.
Gabriel placed the order, and shortly thereafter Christopher appeared with their Chimays, which Gabriel had insisted Julia try.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass to hers.
“Prost,” she replied.
She sipped the beer slowly, unable to forget her first beer and who it was with. That beer had been a domestic lager. This beer was reddish brown and sweet and malty all at once. She liked it a great deal and hummed her approval.
“It’s over ten dollars a bottle,” she whispered, not wishing to embarrass Gabriel or herself with loud incredulity.
“But it’s the best. And wouldn’t you rather drink one bottle of this rather than two bottles of Budweiser, which really is like drinking appalling bath water?”
I can only assume that all bath water would be appalling to drink, Professor Emerson, but I’ll take your word for it. Sicko.
“Well? Let’s hear it,” he prompted. “What are you thinking? I can see the wheels turning in that little mind of yours. So out with it.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and grinned, as if her little mind gave him no end of secret, condescending amusement.
Julia bristled. She didn’t like the fact that he’d used the diminutive little in referring to her mind, for it seemed to signify his contempt for her intellectual ability. So she decided to strike back.
“I’m glad I have a chance to speak to you privately,” she began, withdrawing two envelopes from her messenger bag. “I can’t accept these.” She slid the Starbucks gift card and the bursary award letter across the table.
Gabriel glanced at both items, recognized them immediately, and scowled. “What makes you think these are from me?” He pushed them back across the table.
“The powers of deduction. You’re the only one who calls me Julianne.
You’re the only one with a bank account large enough to fund a bursary.”
She returned the envelopes.
He paused for a moment. Was he really the only one who called Julianne by her proper name? What was everyone else calling her?
Julia.
“You must accept them.” He slid the papers over to her once again.
“No, I mustn’t. Gifts make me very uncomfortable, and the Starbucks card is too much. Not to mention the bursary. I will never be able to repay you, and I owe your family too much already. I can’t accept them.” She pushed them back.
“You can accept them, and you will. The gift card is inconsequential; I spend more than that on coffee in a month. I need to show you, in some tangible way, that I respect your intelligence. I said something in an unguarded moment that Miss Peterson took and twisted. So, it isn’t even a gift — it’s more like restitution. I maligned you; now I’m praising you. You must accept it, or this injustice will remain unresolved between us, and I won’t believe you’ve forgiven me for my verbal indiscretion in front of one of your peers.” He slid the envelopes across the table and glared at her for good measure.
Julia began to stare at his fancy hand-knotted bow tie in order to distract herself from the blazing blue of his eyes. She wondered how he’d managed to make the tie so straight and even. Perhaps he hired a professional bow tie-tier, just for that purpose. Someone with artificially blond hair and high heels. And very long finger nails.
She slid the Starbucks card back toward him defiantly. And to her great surprise, his face hardened and he pocketed it.
“I won’t play gift card ping-pong with you all evening,” he snapped.
“But the bursary can’t be returned. The money isn’t from me. I simply alerted Mr. Randall, the Director of the philanthropic organization, of your accomplishments.”
“And poverty,” Julia muttered.
“If you have something to say to me, Miss Mitchell, please do me the courtesy of speaking at an audible level.” His eyes flashed to hers.
Her eyes flashed back. “I don’t think this is very professional, Professor Emerson. You’re passing me thousands of dol ars through a bursary, however you managed to do it. It looks like you’re trying to buy me.”
Gabriel inhaled sharply and counted to ten just to avert a verbal explosion. “Buy you? Believe me, Miss Mitchel , nothing could have been further from my mind! I am deeply offended at being so maligned. If I wanted you at all, I certainly wouldn’t have to buy you.”
Julia’s eyebrows shot up, and she glared at him. Harshly. “Watch it.”
He squirmed under her glare, which was a rare experience for him.
She reveled in it.
“That is not what I meant. I meant I would never want to treat you like a commodity. And you are not the type of girl who could be bought, are you?”
Julia eyed him frostily before looking away. She shook her head and began staring at the doorway, wondering if she should make her escape.
“Why do you do that?” he whispered, after a few minutes.
“Do what?”
“Provoke me.”
“I don’t…I…I’m not provoking you. I’m stating a fact.”
“Nevertheless, it is extremely provocative. Every time I try to have a conversation with you like a normal person, you provoke me.”
“You are my professor.”
“Yes, and your best friend’s older brother. Can’t we just be Gabriel and Julianne for an evening? Can’t we have a pleasant conversation and an even more pleasant dinner and all the rest? It might not seem obvious to you, but I’m trying to be human here.” He closed his eyes in frustration.
“You are?” It was an innocent question asked in good faith. Julia clapped a hand over her mouth as she realized how it sounded aloud.
Gabriel’s dark blue eyes opened slowly, like the dragon in the Tolkien story, but he did not take the bait of her impertinence. And he did not breathe fire. Yet.
“You wish to be professional, so act like it. A normal graduate student would receive an award letter, be profoundly grateful for her good fortune, and accept the money. So act professionally, Miss Mitchell. I could have hidden my connection to the bursary from you, but I chose to treat you like an adult. I chose to respect your intelligence and not engage in deception.
Nevertheless, I took great care to hide my connection to the bursary from our department. The philanthropic organization does not have my name attached to it publicly, so it can’t be traced back to me. And Emerson is an extremely common name. So no one will believe you if you reveal that I’m behind the bursary.”
He withdrew his iPhone from his pocket, opened up the notepad application, and began writing with his finger.
“I wasn’t going to complain…” Julia began.
“You might have said thank you.”
“Thank you, Professor Emerson. But think of it from my point of view — I don’t want to play Héloïse to your Abelard.” She looked down at her silverware and began adjusting the pieces until they were all lined up symmetrically.
Gabriel quickly remembered seeing her do that once before, when they were dining at Harbour Sixty. He placed his phone on the table and looked over at her with a pained expression, made doubly painful by the guilt he felt over what had almost happened in his study carrel. Yes, he’d come close to succumbing to Miss Mitchell’s considerable charms, and risking Abelard’s fate, for Rachel would no doubt castrate him if she discovered he’d seduced her friend. Miraculously, however, his self-control proved to be superior to that of Abelard. “I would never seduce a student.”
“Then thank you,” she murmured. “And thank you for the gesture of the bursary, even though I can’t promise to accept it. I know it’s only a small amount to you, but it would have meant airline tickets home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and spring break and Easter. And money for many more extras than I can afford now. Including steak, on occasion.”
“Why would you use it for airline tickets? I would have thought you’d use it to secure a better apartment.”
“I don’t think I can get out of my lease. And anyway, going home to see my dad is important to me. He’s the only family I have. And I would have liked to see Richard before he sells the house and moves to Philadelphia.”
Actually, it would be worth it to accept the bursary so I could visit Richard and the orchard. I wonder if my favorite apple tree is still there…I wonder if anyone would notice if I carved my initials into the trunk…
Gabriel scowled obliquely, for a number of reasons. “You wouldn’t have gone home otherwise?”
She shook her head. “Dad wanted to fly me home for Christmas, rather than taking Greyhound. But the prices on Air Canada are outrageous. I would have been ashamed to accept a ticket from him.”