Gabriel lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, really?”
“However, a graduate student has made serious allegations against him, dating all the way back to when she was his student in Florence. You know her—Christa Peterson.”
Gabriel grimaced. “Yes, I know her.”
“I heard the rumors about what happened in Toronto. I also heard that Christa started those rumors and that she’s one of the reasons why you and Julianne are no longer there.”
“Julianne was admitted to Harvard. We were getting married. I was eager to leave Toronto.” Gabriel’s affect was decidedly flat.
Lucia gave him a friendly smile. “Of course. I only realized what a problem Christa had been after Jeremy Martin persuaded me to take her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been inclined to admit her. We receive a lot of applications and can afford to be choosy.”
Gabriel simply sat, immobile like a statue.
Lucia removed her glasses. “It’s come to my attention that Christa is a troublemaker and that she takes her troublemaking tendencies wherever she goes. She had trouble with Pacciani in Florence, she had trouble in Toronto, and apparently, she had trouble with Katherine Picton in Oxford this summer. Katherine telephoned to tell me to start teaching etiquette to our graduate students since it’s obvious they don’t know how to behave in public.” Lucia’s tone was absent any amusement. “I don’t like receiving calls like that from anyone, especially from her. This semester, my faculty informed me that no one wants to serve on Christa’s examination committee. They’re worried about being slandered for harassment.”
Gabriel’s look was pointed. “They’re right to be worried.”
“That was my thought, as well. Now I’m in the awkward position of either having to agree to supervise Christa myself, and offending Katherine, or having to tell her to go elsewhere.” Lucia tossed her glasses on the desk in front of her. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”
Gabriel paused, knowing in that instant that Christa’s academic career rested in his hands. He could explain, in detail, what really happened in Toronto and Oxford, and demonstrate the lengths to which Christa would go for a sexual conquest. Such information would no doubt make up Lucia’s mind for her.
He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and then put them back again, acutely aware of the words Julia (and St. Francis) would whisper in his ear.
Exposing Christa would also expose himself and Julianne. She didn’t want the rumors fed. And she deserved to be able to stand in a room filled with academics and be seen for herself, and not as part of a scandal.
Lucia was a friend, but not a close one. Gabriel didn’t want to revisit every encounter he’d ever had with Christa Peterson, embarrassing himself and his wife. For her sake, and the sake of her reputation, he decided to try a different tack.
“If we put the personal issues aside, I can tell you that Christa’s work for me was mediocre.”
“That’s been my impression. If you couple that with her behavior . . .” Lucia shrugged. “She’s a liability.”
“I doubt Pacciani is blameless. I’ve seen him in action.”
“He represents another difficult situation.” Lucia gestured to a file that was sitting open on her desk. “Christa is making allegations about his past behavior, but there are reports that he beds his students and that’s why he’s eager to leave Florence. I don’t want that in my department for obvious reasons, not least of which is because it invites lawsuits.”
“Yes,” said Gabriel, tapping his foot unconsciously.
Lucia placed her glasses in a case, which she then tucked into her purse. “Enough of my troubles. Let me take you to lunch. I have reservations at Del Posto.”
She pushed back from her desk. “We have a lot of catching up to do. Is it true that Julianne told Don Wodehouse that the question he asked wasn’t germane to her thesis?”
Gabriel laughed uproariously. “No, that isn’t true. At least, not exactly.”
He followed Lucia out of the office, proudly describing Julianne’s presentation and the way she handled her questioners, including Professor Wodehouse of Magdalen College.
“Damnation.” Gabriel cursed his iPhone, which appeared to be dead.
As if he had the power of resurrection, he shook it, pressing the on button repeatedly. He’d almost decided to fling the item into Central Park out of frustration when he remembered that he’d neglected to charge it the evening before.
“Julianne will be worried,” he muttered, as he walked the streets of New York to Michael Wasserstein’s office.
Mr. Wasserstein was retired, but since he’d been Owen Davies’s attorney from the time he penned a prenuptial agreement for him in 1961, he’d agreed to meet Gabriel at his former law firm.