Page 6 of Love Under Snowfall

Approaching the closed door at the end of the hallway, Benjamin almost forgot himself and barged in without an invitation, but he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He rapped two heavy knocks on the solid oak and swung its heavy weight open upon hearing his boss’s welcome.

“Ah, Benjamin.” The older man leaned back in his chair, propping one immaculately buffed loafer on his opposite knee. He beamed happily at the seething professor, deep crow’s feet and laugh lines engaged, and a mischievous glimmer in his pale blue eyes. “To what do I owe the—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what, exactly?” Dean McCaffery’s grin didn’t falteras he ran one hand through a patch of thinning hair and gestured with the other to the two chairs opposite his desk.

“I’ll stand,” Benjamin barked. “And you know quite well what I’m referring to.”

Benjamin registered a sharp glint in his boss’s eyes, though that smile of his held firm.

“Watch yourself, Clark. You forget who you’re talking to.” The warning was level but had the intended cooling effect. “I insist you sit and calm down.”

Begrudgingly, Benjamin obeyed and lowered into an old office chair. He sank into the lumpy, brown cushion but kept his back ramrod straight, gripping his knees to keep his hands from balling into fists. He sucked in a breath through flared nostrils and willed himself to settle down. McCaffery wouldn’t be receptive to a tantrum, and Benjamin couldn’t blame him. If a student had come barging into his office on a similar tirade, he’d have tossed him out the door by the scruff of his neck. He managed a few more lungfuls of air, noting the scent of dusty books and whatever garlicky dish had been on the menu for lunch that day.

“Very good,” the dean gently praised. “Now, what is this you’re going on about?”

“The interloper,” he forced through gritted teeth.

“Ah.”

“When were you going to tell me about her?”

“I wasn’t aware I was under any obligation to tell you anything. I’myoursuperior, remember?”

While there was no refuting the sanctioned hierarchy, surely simple professional courtesy would dictate a warning of some kind—or at the very least, mutual academic respect should. But there stood the problem. Benjamin was certain his boss held very little respect for him—not as a professional, not as a peer. McCaffery approved of his hard-nosed methods and results as aprofessor, but what he got off on was the power he held over the younger man’s head.

Even at half the dean’s age, Benjamin had already succeeded in twice the career McCaffery ever could, and it clearly boiled the older man’s pride. He was well past his prime yet continued to hang on to his position for the sheer joy of lording over thelowlyfamily law professor.

“She’s in theMSWprogram,” Benjamin spat. He had nothing against the various graduate schools around campus—Northwest Washington University was at the top of its field in many disciplines—as long as they didn’t disrupt his precisely orchestrated lectures.

“It doesn’t matter what a student is studying, so long as she keeps up with the rest of the class. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“She has no clue how a law class is structured. She showed up late and didn’t come prepared to discuss the assigned cases. She didn’t just waste my time; she wasted the time of every single one of my students.”

“Let me be frank.” Smirk fading away, McCaffery’s face took on a pinched countenance. One Benjamin had become accustomed to during his time teaching at NWU. “This comes down from on high. The board wants to see interdisciplinary cooperation. They believe that lawyers and judges shouldn’t be the gatekeepers to the justice system and want to see a mingling of programs to produce more well-rounded graduates.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for the professors in the MSW program to formulate their own family law class that’s easier for their students to follow?” Benjamin sneered.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for law professors at the top of their game to teach their craft to those who will benefit most from their expertise?” McCaffery challenged with a sigh. Twisting a thick gold signet ring on his bony finger, the dean peered over therim of his wire-framed glasses, leveling a heavy gaze on Benjamin. “I may disagree with it, but my hands are tied. Which means so are yours.”

Benjamin’s rage fizzled, leaving behind a mild headache and a bitter taste in his mouth. This wasn’t the first time the board attempted to implement some flight of fancy into the curriculum. And it wouldn’t be the last. He had to deal with it and let this particular train wreck run its course. But one thing niggled at the back of his mind.

“Why this girl? Why did you pick her to be a part of your little experiment?”

“If you must know, she gave a compelling argument in her proposal about why she would be an asset to the class and how connecting the two disciplines made logical sense. Not only that, but I saw her GRE scores, and they were fantastic—top five percent.”

Benjamin was impressed. Mildly.

“I won’t make things easier on her. I already told her that.” Benjamin wagged his finger toward his boss, but the wind had already blown out of his sails. “She must keep up with everyone else.”

“Of course. That was never at issue,” Dean McCaffery stated.

“And if she’s late or ill-prepared again, she’s out.”

“I would expect no less. However, after talking with her, Miss Miller doesn’t appear to be the kind of woman who makes the same mistake twice. She is very intelligent and clearly a hard worker. She received the Thirty Over Thirty scholarship from the Gilcrest Foundation.

Benjamin was aware of how challenging it was to earn that honor. Only thirty people received the national scholarship each year, and of those selected, typically only five were from disciplinesother than STEM. It wasn’t an easy award to win, and one really had to be something to earn it.

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