Page 26 of Troy Story
“Nope. Hard pass.” Emilia pounded her fist into her palm. “Tell him you won’t do it.”
“That’s awful,” Dusty said. “I can’t believe your dad would agree to it.”
“It’s just that…” Clarissa’s voice broke. “When my dad was growing up, he wanted to be an archaeologist more than anything. But his dad was a total hard-ass who forced him to go into the family business. This dig is the closest my dad’s ever gotten to living out his dream, and Hughes…he…” She blinked back tears.
“What?” Dusty growled.
“He promised my dad that if I did this ‘secret mission,’ he’d include Dad’s name in his next publication about Troy. He’d make him sound like a fellow archaeologist rather than just a rich volunteer. Dad was so excited. I’d love to do this for him, but I…I’m scared.”
That’s it. I’m done playing nice. Dusty set down the bowl of chickpeas and got to her feet, propelled by a burst of righteous anger. “I’m going to talk to Hughes right now.”
“Don’t do it,” Emilia said. “He already hates you.”
“I don’t care.” Last week, when Stuart had asked her not to confront him, Dusty had held her tongue. Now she wished she’d spoken up. “He needs to understand this isn’t okay.”
Clarissa wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to do this for me.” But from the way she was watching Dusty, almost in expectation, it was clear she was hopingsomeonewould speak up on her behalf.
“Do you know if he’s in his room?” Dusty asked.
“I think he was going to the lab to look over a few things,” Clarissa said.
Emilia held up her hand. “Wait—”
But Dusty was already on her way, wrenching open the back door and marching down to the lab. Dr. Hughes sat atherillustration table, perusing the sketches she’d done earlier. She let herself in and closed the door, her heart thudding furiously.
Dr. Hughes regarded her with a condescending smile. “Miss Danforth. You look upset. Is something wrong?”
Her anger rose to the surface, like boiling water overflowing a pot. “I was just talking to Clarissa. I can’t believe you asked her to spy for you. What kind of bullshit is that?”
He gestured to the chair across from him. “Why don’t you have a seat so we can discuss this like rational adults.”
“I don’t need to sit down. I need you to back off and leave Clarissa alone. She’s here as a volunteer. You have no right to ask her to do something so slimy and underhanded.”
“There was no coercion on my part. I merely asked her a small favor.”
Dusty’s jaw tightened. After three weeks of putting up with his shit, she was sick of it. “When Clarissa talked to me tonight, she wasn’t okay with it. She wascrying. This is way out of her comfort zone.”
“Really? Her father thought she’d be able to accomplish this task with little trouble.”
“If you’re that keen on collecting intel, why don’t you ask the Germans yourself? Or ask Stuart to talk to them?”
For that, she got a derisive snort. “As if they’d tell him anything.”
“Does Stuart know you’re planning this? He’d never approve.”
Dr. Hughes regarded her with a glint in his eye. “You and Stuart are quite close, aren’t you? Is that the reason he hired you?”
Was he implying something sordid? She scowled. “We’ve been friends for years, but that’s not why he invited me to join the dig. I’ve served as an illustrator on dozens of projects for lots of different universities. I have years of experience.”
“So you have. And from what I understand, you’ve been training Clarissa to help you.” He picked up two drawings from the table. Both showed cross-sections of a ceramic pot incised with a series of wavy lines. “Which is yours, and which is hers?”
What the hell did this have to do with anything? She stared at the sketches for a few seconds before picking the left one. “That’s mine.”
“True, but you could barely tell the difference.” He set them back down. “At dinner tonight, Clarissa couldn’t stop raving about you. She was thrilled at how much you’d taught her in such a short time. But now that she’s at your level, I wonder if I need you at all.”
His words hit her with the force of a gut punch. Was this the thanks she got for playing nice? She’d been trying to help Clarissa, not screw herself out of a job. She spoke clearly, hoping to hide the tremor in her voice. “But I was hired for the whole season.”
“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have been hired at all. You’re no better than your obnoxious mother—always poking your nose where you don’t belong.” He gave a nasty laugh. “I don’t see any reason to keep you here. Clarissa can do your job. Since she’s a volunteer, we don’t even have to pay her.”
