Page 62 of Troy Story
She gave him a bright smile. “I never told you about Mort’s offer, did I? He liked my cartoons so much that he put me in touch with his publisher friend. If it works out, I could end up illustrating children’s books, like Clarissa does. It’s an incredible opportunity.”
He listened as she described the project—a time-travel series for the picture book set. This was exactly what she needed. “That sounds awesome. I’ll bet even your mom would be impressed.”
“I doubt it.” Dusty blew out a breath. “Nothing less than a PhD will win her over. But I have to stand up to her, even if she cuts me off.”
“What does that mean, anyway? It’s not like you get an allowance.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been using my parents’ frequent-flier miles for years. And I’ve never had to chip in for rent when I’ve stayed at their apartments in Cairo or Boston.”
“If you got a bunch of illustration work, you could probably afford your own place. But from what you’ve told me, your mom’s hardly ever in Boston. Most of the time, your dad’s the only one there, and he likes having you around. He also doesn’t care if you get your doctorate.”
Stuart respected Dusty’s father immensely. Even though the man was a world-class archaeologist and a scholar of ancient languages who had published ten books, he was also easygoing and compassionate. Unlike Dusty’s mother, he’d never insisted their daughter follow them into academia.
Dusty traced a circle in the sand with her finger. “He’ll definitely take my side. The question is whether he’d assert himself if my mom loses her shit.”
“Would you still stay in Boston? If you’re not tied down to grad school, then you could keep traveling since you could do your illustrations anywhere.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Stuart longed to take them back. What was he doing? He wanted her to stay in the city with him, not jet off to another project.
“I didn’t think of it that way.” She chewed on her lip. “Right now, I don’t have anything else lined up. Besides, I was looking forward to showing you around.”
While her answer relieved his immediate fears, it wasn’t as romantic as he’d hoped. Playing the role of tour guide was something she would have done for him, regardless of whether they were friends or lovers. By making the offer, she wasn’t implying that they’d still be together romantically. Was it too much to hope for?
He was about to prod her into making a bigger commitment but stopped himself in time. This conversation wasn’t about him. It was about Dusty and her decision to alter the course of her life. He needed to stop worrying about the future and support her as best he could.
He kept his voice light. “Don’t forget, once I’m settled, you promised me dumplings and Italian pastries.”
She grinned. “Like I’d ever forget? We’re going to eat our way into a food coma.”
He reached across the blanket and took her hand. “No matter what happens with your mom, I’m here for you. I promise.”
“Thanks. I’m going to email my graduate adviser on Monday and let her know what I decided. I can formally withdraw once I get back to the States in September.”
“Will you still keep working in the field?”
“Hell, yes. It’s not like I’m giving up archaeology. I’m just going to do it without a PhD.” Giving him an adorable smile, she lay back on her towel and closed her eyes. “But now I can doanything. The world is wide-open.”
As much as he loved this free-spirited version of Dusty, he didn’t want to lose her. If he had any hope of keeping her in Boston, he’d have to be brave enough to tell her exactly how he felt.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
On Monday morning, Dusty got ready with the others, eager to return to the site. When she went out to the Land Rover to load up her supplies, Clarissa was already waiting, occupying the front passenger seat. On her lap was a basket, with the strudel wrapped in a dish towel.
Dusty inhaled the delicious scent of cinnamon and apples. “Is that the strudel? When did you make it?”
“I prepped everything last night, then got up at five to bake it.” Clarissa yawned. “I’ll probably need an extra dose of caffeine today, but strudel is better when it’s warm.”
“Seems a shame to give it all to the Germans. Do you think—”
“I made two. One for us and one for them. We can have ours during the morning break.”
Becauseof courseClarissa would bake two strudels. She was just that thoughtful.
Once they got to the site, Dusty and Clarissa let the others go on ahead. While Dusty wasn’t trying to keep their mission a secret, she didn’t want to deal with a bunch of questions. The rest of the group headed west along the boardwalk while she and Clarissa followed the path leading to the eastern part of the site. She took a deep breath, enjoying the brisk morning air. She loved the site at this hour, before the sun beat down without mercy and the tour groups arrived.
Clarissa tugged on her arm. “I’m nervous. What if they yell at us?”
“Worst case, we apologize and promise never to bother them again. But there’s no harm in trying.” Even if Dr. Wagner shooed them away, Dusty’s conscience would be clear, knowing she’d made an effort.
When they reached the Germans’ trenches near the Temple of Athena, she stopped short at the sight of a guard standing in front of the barrier. She recognized him as Mehmet, one of the friendliest workers at the café. The few times she’d gone there to get coffee, he’d always made time to chat with her.
