Page 5 of On Thin Ice

I could have cried. Edna seemed to remember every little thing I told her and, while that might not always be a plus, in this instance, it was. I didn’t eat bagels regularly, but one day a month, I’d go to the little coffee stand at the community college and buy one. I’d toast it myself, using their rotating toaster and then spread the cream cheese with one of their disposable plastic knives.

It was a way to celebrate making it through another month of school.

Lots of students I got to know during my year at WCC seemed to breeze through their classes, but I wasn’t so lucky. I questioned if maybe I was stupid or dense, because it was harder for me. I spent hours upon hours reading and studying and the only thing that kept me going was that I was achieving good grades—mostly As, an occasional B, and a C in Biology…and I was grateful for it.

And, because of my monthly celebration, I’d grown to love bagels, even though I knew they probably weren’t the healthiest choice. At least I wasn’t choosing the scrumptious looking giant blueberry muffins on display.

Sinclair said, “Might I recommend you have a little protein with that, other than just cream cheese? Otherwise, you’ll crash later on.”

“Crash?”

“You’ll have a glucose spike shortly after eating your bagel and pineapple. The cream cheese will help a little, but that bagel is all simple carbs. In two or three hours, you’ll be ready for a nap.”

My forehead crinkled. “How do you know so much about food?”

“I…dated my personal trainer for a while. She was also a Registered Dietician.”

Although I knew I had no right, I felt jealous. I’d already begun to feel such a desire, such a need for Sinclair that imagining him with another woman made my insides feel as if they were being wrung like a towel. But I looked down at my coffee before taking a sip, hoping none of those inappropriate feelings were noticed.

“But she was also the Mayor of Crazytown—so after I broke up with her, I had to continue studies on my own.”

As Edna set a plate in front of me, she asked, “Is she the one who keyed your BMW?”

“No.” I wondered if she was also the one who’d used the laptop I now employed in my work. Sinclair took another sip of coffee and said, “An expensive lesson. Never mix business with pleasure.”

I was sure that comment was also directed at me, so I didn’t look up as I spread the cream cheese on that lovely bagel. Edna had even toasted it for me.

“It took you a couple of times to learn it.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Sinclair frowned but it seemed playful—this was Edna he was directing it to, so of course he wasn’t actually angry with her. “But back to the point,” he said, his commanding voice grabbing my attention, “I’d recommend you eat a few nuts or a piece of steak with that.”

Steak with a bagel sounded disgusting to me—and Edna once again proved how well she knew me. “I believe we’ve got an unopened can of mixed nuts in the pantry. I’ll be right back.”

I felt a little uncomfortable having my food choices scrutinized, and I wondered if Sinclair had any comfort food of his own—but I wasn’t about to ask for fear of being disappointed. It would probably be yet another reminder of just how different we were.

I preferred to focus on what we had in common.

“Changing the subject, didn’t you say you were earning a general degree back in Winchester?”

“Yes, but they didn’t have any classes on nutrition.”

He chuckled. “Well, they should.” Removing the napkin off his lap, he set it on his plate and looked directly at me. “If I recall correctly, you said something about being interested in archaeology—and then you told me working in the dungeon had inspired some other sort of career idea. I’m curious what that was.”

Did he really want to know? I remembered that conversation because it had been one where he’d bitten my head off, telling me I should have thought of that before destroying the lab or some such thing—it had been his usual response before we’d settled into a more civil relationship.

“Working in a museum. That’s what working downstairs feels like. I’m sifting through pieces of history, determining their worth—and if I continue working with the art down there, I might be tempted to persuade you to switch out what you have in the gallery.” His expression told me he hated that idea, but he didn’t say it. “I think working in a museum might be a lot like that.” Of course, I didn’t tell him part of the history I’d been perusing was his mother’s private writings—but how many museum archivists got caught up in the records they researched?

“You’ve been doing good work here, and it should be recognized.” While he spoke, I could hear Edna puttering in her usual spot behind me. “If you want to get a degree while working for me, I’ll allow it.”

Just the idea floored me—but there were so many questions.

But he continued speaking before I could ask them. “If you choose to attend DU or Metro, I’ll pay for it—so long as it doesn’t interfere with your work. Or, if you find something else you’d prefer online, I’m amenable to that as well, as long as it’s not one of those fly-by-night operations.”

While Edna set a bowl of almonds beside me, I could hardly believe my ears. She squeezed my shoulder, prompting me out of silence. “Are you serious?”

“Do I seem like I’m joking? Education is no laughing matter, and I know it’s important to you. Because you’re working for me, I think it’s imperative that you begin educating yourself.”

How had he known that, aside from being separated from my father, what I missed the most was school? It was such a generous gift and, had we not experienced a bigger connection over the past couple of days, I might have suspected it to be a trick.

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