Page 26 of Prosecco with My Professor
“Emma,” I say. “Where are you from? Sorry, I must have missed your introduction.”
“DC. And you’re from Austin?”
I sling my bag over my shoulder as I stand, and we exit the class together. “Yeah. Or at least, that’s where I lived for decades. I was born in the panhandle, though.”
We chat on our way out, comparing schedules. When we get to the street, Shonda hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m this way.”
I hook mine in the other direction. “That way.”
“Wanna swap numbers so we can talk about the homework?” she asks.
We do, and I walk away excited to have made a new friend.
13
Emma
The next fewweeks fly by. The first week of the term was hectic since I needed to stay ahead in my classes so I could take the weekend off to visit Baden-Baden with my friends. It was a nice break–we went hiking and to a nude spa, and they teased me a little about Santo, but Sara got most of the teasing when she told us she’d kissed her roommate.
Back in Rome, I throw all my attention into school. Second Chances Boutique, the furniture-flipping business I ran with Bruce, taught me a lot, but it was all so practical. Now I’m learning the theory.
I learn how to approach strategic partnerships—like when Second Chances partnered with a flea market—and what the hell a supply curve is—our pieces were always one-offs—and, in Santo’s class, we dig way deeper into familiar financial statements than I had ever been before.
But the classes are hard, and being in the room with Santo is even harder. Sometimes, his gaze snags on mine, and heat flashes through me. I don’t know if he feels it too—he doesn’t let it show if he does—but it makes me lose my breath, and if I’m not careful, my mind wanders back to that night.
It’s such a distraction and one I really don’t need.
Adding to that, Santo is easily the most engaging professor we have. Before getting accepted, I’d read some pros and cons of this program and one con that was mentioned often—not just at this school but at European schools in general—was that teaching styles differed from American schools. Professors would be more aloof, building less of a personal relationship. After reading the bios of the faculty here, I wasn’t surprised; they all write papers and books and do consulting and researching. Where would they find the time?
But Santo does. His lectures are popular. There are whispered rumors about how he mentored the guy who’s startup just had a record-breaking IPO on the Borsa Italiana or that one of his former students invited him to Stockholm when she accepted a Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences.
My fellow students idolize him.
November first is All Saint’s Day, a national holiday in Rome, and because I’m eight and nine hours ahead of my children, I wake up to pics of them in costume, and I worry all day about them. After Zoe’s recent brush with drugs—though it was just pot and apparently it wasn’t her first time—and my kids being out partying in three different major cities, and dear god, what if something happens to more than one of them? Bruce can only be in so many places at once, and I’m an ocean away.
I don’t get a lot of schoolwork done. I don’t want to go all mama-bear on my kids since theyareadults now. Plus, even if I asked them to let me know when they get home, odds are pretty good that they’ve been drinking and will forget.
So, the next day, in classes, I’m not fully firing on all cylinders when Santo starts on our last module of the term—Sustainability Reporting.
Specifically, I get tripped up on learning about the Triple Bottom Line. When I was working in the business with Bruce, we didn’t consciously think about things like sustainability as it relates to our bottom line. Our bottom line was the regular oldsinglebottom line—profits. I used QuickBooks to run Profit and Loss statements, which Bruce barely looked at, but I really like the idea of a triple bottom line, considering the environment and the people instead of just profits.
Santo turns to the class after drawing a visual representation of a TBL and asks, “What steps can we take to improve how our business is doing in terms of taking care of our people?”
Hands go up and Santo calls on my classmates, who suggest paternity leave and medical benefits, with a few jokes at the expense of my home country. Analyzing competitive salaries and remote work and wellness benefits.
I think back to my time at Second Chances. We started with just Bruce and me but grew quickly as HGTV shows became popular. We opened up a storefront in Austin about ten years ago and celebrities like Chip and Joanna Gaines made remodeling and refurbishing trendy again. Then social media took off and our business pivoted to online orders.
By the time Bruce asked me for a divorce, we had ten employees working in our shop on furniture pieces, two buyers, and a team for the store, and revenue approaching ten million a year.
What did we do to boost our people?
I raise my hand. Santo’s eyes snag on me. My blush is creeping up. It’s not like I haven’t talkedat allin class, but having all eyes on me is always intimidating. Austin is metropolitan and full of culture, but in this international, highly educated crowd, I feel like a country bumpkin.
“Em—I mean, Ms. Chance.”
Well, okay, now it’s definitely a full blush at Santo nearly using my first name.
I clear my throat. “What about holiday parties? And bringing your staff lunch?”
