Page 31 of Love in the Stacks
“First of all, texting is a perfectly acceptable mode of communication for my generation, preferred even. Second of all, I didn’t want to just text her, but she’s been avoiding me, remember?”
Dr. Parker’s eyes flash with amusement. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just call me old since I know what a precarious emotional state you’re in right now.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck.
“You’re forgiven,” he says impatiently. “But I think I know what you need to do. You need to show her that you still respect her, still care about her. That her words didn’t affect how you see her.”
“Okay,” I nod. “Yeah, that makes sense. Show her that it didn’t change my opinion of her.”
We sit quietly for a few beats. “Any ideas on how to do that?” I finally ask.
“Adam, I have been happily married for close to fifty years.You’rethe one who wants to woo the young lady, soyouneed to come up with your own grand gesture. I can’t do everything for you.” He shakes his head.
“Yeah, fair enough,” I say.
As I think, my eyes drift to the view outside the window. Dr. Parker’s office overlooks the west lawn and gardens of the college, with the main building and its stunning architecture in the background. Something nebulous niggles at the back of my mind, something I feel like I need to remember. I work at it, pulling it forward until it comes into focus.
Oh.
Oh.I’ve got it. I know what I need to do.
Eyes wide, I jump up from my chair and see Dr. Parker beaming at me from behind his desk, leaning back in his chair.
“Looks like you’ve got something,” he says with a wink. “Come back and tell me about it next week.”
“I will! Thanks, Dr. P.” I call on my way out the door. Mentally, I’m already making a list of everything I’ll need.
Chapter fifteen
Nicole
It’s another four days before I see Adam again. It makes sense. He’s off Thursday and Friday since he’s working the weekend. I want to avoid him. I want to pretend nothing happened. I pushed him away. It’s what I want, so I shouldn’t feel disappointed that it’s working.
But, in truth, I’m walking around a little lost. I’m so used to talking to Adam now, joking around with him. I haven’t even gotten a meme from him since before Soapbox. He doesn’t send them every day anymore, but usually it’s at least a couple of times a week.
I’m embarrassed, and I’m ashamed. I saw the hurt on Adam’s face in our meeting the other day, and I know I caused it with how cold I was toward him. And he didn’t even do anything. It was all me. By now, he’s certainly given up. I would if I were him.
Monday morning, I run into Tasha in the break room, and she tags along with me to my office when I tell her I have a project for her. I unlock the office door and am stunned to see a large, framed poster hanging on the wall to the left of my desk. It’s huge—like five feet wide and four feet tall. The image is a photograph of the gardens right outside the library—what would be my view if I had an office on the exterior side of the hallway. I stop so abruptly that Tasha bumps into me from behind.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I move closer to the picture to examine it better.
It’s lovely. The frame is nothing extravagant, just simple poster framing. The photo looks to have been taken with a high-quality camera—even blown-up this big, the image is crisp. Colorful flowers—pink hibiscus, white gardenias, and purple azaleas—frame a cement pathway shaded by four palm trees. Beyond that, the imposing architecture of Harkness’s primary building stands tall. The primary building, which now houses the dining hall and some of the dorms, was a luxury hotel built in the 1880s by a well-known oil tycoon who spared no expense on the design or materials. The background is the unblemished blue of the sky. It’s beautiful.
“Where did this come from?” I wonder aloud.
“Really?” Tasha answers, reminding me of her presence. “Where do you think it came from?”
I turn to stare at her. “No,” I protest. “I’m sure it’s something Herb had putin all the offices.”
With impeccable timing, at that moment, Herb pops his head into the office. “Nicole,” he says. “I’d like to see you and Adam in my office at 9:30 please. Does that work for you?”
“Yes,” I answer. I start to ask about the poster. “Herb—”
“Hey, nice picture,” Herb interrupts. “I hope you didn’t put any holes in the wall hanging it.”
He pops out again, and I turn to see Tasha with her arms folded across her chest giving me a smug smile.
“As I said,” she smirks, “where do you think it came from?”
