Page 31 of Things We Do for Love and Science
“Your contract; two copies, one for you, one for us.” His stance was nonchalant as if their earlier disagreement had never taken place.
She stared at him without saying a word or moving a muscle. Too many emotions were cartwheeling through her to settle on one.
He steepled his hands together and coughed. “I thought you were eager to get tenure.”
She snatched the sheets of paper from the wooden surface and leafed through them. “Only my signature’s missing.” She narrowed her eyes and clutched the contract to her chest. “I’m still not going to ask Gabriel for any more ancestor teeth.”
“Yes, you made it very clear. Welcome to the faculty, Cordelia. Please leave our copy on my desk once you’ve signed it.” And with this, he left.
She punched the air in silent victory. This was it. After years of struggle, the stars had finally aligned. She perused the contract with the veneration deserving of a sacred document. Light-headed with joy, she picked up a pen and placed her signature beside John’s. Sparks of euphoria shot through her. She stretched back in her chair, folded her arms behind her head, and closed her eyes, letting it all sink in. A few slow breaths later, she blinked her eyes open and grabbed her phone.
Tom answered on the second ring. “Hi sis, what’s up? Calling in the middle of the day, that’s not like you.”
“Guess what happened.” Finally, the time of hoping and despairing was over. She was as light as a feather, ready to drift heavenward on the next breeze.
“Delia, I’m at work. Can’t you just tell me?” he asked, his voice lit with amusement.
“Come on, one guess,” she insisted.
“Judging by your tone, it’s something good.” He gasped. “No way.”
“Yes.” She jumped up and bounced a few steps from her desk. “I signed the contract.”
“Oh my God, that’s fabulous. Congrats, well done.” His voice was warm with delight.
“Thanks, Tom, I’m still in happy shock.”
“Wait till I tell Anjali, she’ll be thrilled you’ll be staying in Renwood for good. Me too of course.”
“What a relief.” Delia let her head fall back. “Now I can safely think of having a baby.” She’d been waiting so long.
“Still planning to get pregnant via sperm donor?” he asked.
“Yes, and I’ll start looking for one straight away.” No time like the present. She was thirty-five and declining fertility could become an issue.
“I’m supportive, in case you’re wondering,” Tom said gravely.
“Good to know. I’ll lean on you for parenting advice if you promise not to lord it over me too much,” she teased.
“Would I do such a thing?” He chuckled. “Come over to dinner sometime. Anjali, me, and the kids want to properly celebrate your tenure with you.”
“I’d love that,” said Delia.
“Well then, sis, make sure to pencil us in.”
“Will do.” She rung off and lifted her handbag off the floor.
Right, first she needed to hand the contract back to John then she’d persuade Sandra to sneak out for a lengthy lunch in town.
Delia chose a fancy Italian restaurant with white table cloths in honor of her success. Two hours and a three-course-meal later, she and Sandra returned to the university giddy at their small transgression.
“No more slacking.” Sandra gave Delia a playful shove. “Off you go, and be a pillar of this venerable institution.”
“Won’t be half as much fun when you’re gone.” Delia squeezed her friend’s upper arm.
“It’ll be a while yet.” Sandra clamped her arms around Delia. “But I’ll miss you too.”
Back in her office, Delia took a moment to check her schedule. The week was booked solid with lectures, admin, and research. But on Saturday, she’d see Gabriel. Their painting sessions had come to an end, which was a shame, really. She’d enjoyed them—not the standing still part, but their chats, the tea, the cake and biscuits. He’d promised to show her the finished portrait, and she was dying to see how the whole thing had turned out.
