“I said it was effective immediately.”
“You need to give me a chance to explain things to the board,” Frances says. “They’re upset that King’s is losing the prestige of having you on faculty, but I want to tell them that this isn’t your choice, that—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “It is my choice. And I’d make the same choice again, if I had to. Maggie Hamilton withdrew the complaint, and Stafford is writing his final report. He doesn’t have to make any recommendation to the board. It’s over.”
“And one of the best historians in the country is out of a job based on a lie,” Frances says.
I heft the box onto the floor and look at her again. “You never told me you knew it was a lie.”
“Of course it was a lie, for God’s sake, Dean,” she replies tartly. “I’m not stupid. I have to be the voice of reason when there’s a conflict between a student and a professor, but I know Maggie Hamilton doesn’t deserve to be here. I’ve never approved of the way she was admitted to King’s. The only reason she’s lasted this long is that Jeffrey Butler went easy on her. If he hadn’t retired, she might even have finished her thesis by now.”
Something flickers in the back of my mind. I replay that last conversation with Maggie in my office. “Your predecessor wasn’t above allowing a student a little extra credit,” she’d said. “I’m sure you’re not either.”
“Why did Jeffrey Butler retire?” I ask.
“He wanted to spend his time on research and consulting rather than teaching.”
“But he wasn’t at retirement age.”
“No, he took early retirement.” Frances frowns. “Why?”
I shake my head. “No reason.”
“That wasn’t a no reason question.”
“Just wondering why he went easy on Maggie.”
“Jeffrey was always more interested in his own work than that of his students,” Frances says. “And now Susan Chalmers is stuck with Maggie Hamilton. And I’ll tell you, Susan is not happy about it. Don’t be surprised if she throws rotten eggs at your car.”
I have to chuckle at the image of the dowdy ancient history professor egging my car.
“Will you at least stay on until the conference is over?” Frances asks. “There is no way we can host it without you. We’ll announce that your resignation is effective at the end of the conference. That will also give us more time to begin the search for a new professor.”
“Agreed.” It won’t be all that easy to run the conference with everyone knowing I’ve resigned, but at least no one knows why.
“You’ll come out of the conference with a dozen job offers too,” Frances mutters. “And I don’t want to hear about any of them.”
“You won’t.”
“Good.” Frances heaves a sigh as she watches me put another empty box on my desk. “You’ve talked to everyone you need to talk to?”
I nod. I’ve spent the past few days making phone calls and sending emails, telling my colleagues and students about my resignation. Their responses ranged from shock to disbelief, and with me unable to adequately explain the reason behind my decision, I left all of them confused and hurt.
That, more than anything, stabs me with regret.
“I have a meeting with my grad students in half an hour,” I say.
“All right, Dean. I’ll be in touch about the transition. The press release goes out this afternoon, saying you want to pursue other opportunities.”
“Thanks, Frances.”
“You know where to find me if you need anything.”
She pivots on her heel and strides down the corridor to her office. I keep packing up my stuff, setting filled boxes on the floor. Then I take a stack of file folders from my desk and walk down the hall to the meeting room.
My seven grad students are already there waiting, their heavy backpacks and satchels on the table, their voices low in the hushed air. When I step in, they fall silent and turn to face me.
I falter. Stop in the doorway. I can’t stand their looks of bewilderment and uncertainty.
All of these kids have worked so damned hard. They’re bright, motivated, resourceful, dedicated. Jessica is supposed to defend her dissertation this summer. Kevin just started his thesis. Sam is still waiting for my notes on his first chapter.
I pull out a chair and sit down. They’re all still watching me. Waiting.
“I want…” I have to pause and clear my throat before continuing. “I want you all to know that I’m leaving King’s because I have to. Not because I want to. There’s personal business that I can’t get into, but the reasons have nothing to do with my colleagues or you.”
“Is this why you took the semester off?” Sam asks.
“Yes. I’m going back to Italy for a short trip in June, but for the most part I’m staying in Mirror Lake now.”
“You’re not moving away?”
“No. My wife…” Something sticks in my throat again. I swallow hard. “My wife is opening a business here, and we have no plans to move.”
“What are you going to do, then?” Jessica asks.
“Finish my work on the dig. Help facilitate the transition to a new Medieval Studies professor. Edit my next book.”