Free True Grey by Clea Simon Page B

Lunch or a nap. But the thought that she was going to be confronting Melinda Sloane Harquist in only a few hours was turning what might be incipient hunger pangs into mild queasiness. And as for a nap, well, while Mr Grey might approve, the thought of getting home and relaxing enough to snooze seemed unlikely.
    Gathering her own papers together in the quiet of the empty room, Dulcie thought about Darlene and Rafe – and about calling Chris. Her boyfriend hadn’t gotten home before she left, but there was the chance that he was puttering around now. Then again, he may very well have gone to sleep in the last hour and a half. Over the past year, they’d gotten into a routine: when he worked nights, he’d call her when he awoke. Better to get back into that habit, Dulcie told herself. As much as she wanted to make sure they had made up, she should let the poor guy rest.
    On any other day, she would head to the library. Even with the Mildon closed to her, she could lose herself, deep in the subterranean stacks. The quiet, the books, that was what she’d lived for. Today, however, whenever she thought of her thesis – of
The Ravages of Umbria –
all she could think of was what might have been.
    â€˜Dulcie Schwartz, you’re acting like a clueless kitten,’ she said to herself finally, heaving her bag on to her shoulder. And with a determination that Esmé would have been proud of, she decided to head into the Square and get some lunch.
    The moment she stepped out of Dardley, Dulcie felt better. The September day had warmed into perfection, the first hint of autumn color adding a golden accent to a startlingly blue sky. As she walked, Dulcie shed the sweater she’d been wearing – a rough oatmeal-colored cardigan Lucy had knit – and spread her arms. The day was warm, almost unnaturally so. Her mother was, at the very least, well intentioned. Everything would work out.
    â€˜Dulcie! There you are.’
    At the sound of her name, Dulcie looked up to see Lloyd barreling down the walkway, waving his arms. She waved back and waited until he reached her, panting.
    â€˜I’ve been trying to call you.’ Lloyd wiped a hand over his sweaty forehead. ‘I’m just glad I remembered your section.’
    â€˜Why? What’s going on?’ As she talked, Dulcie reached into her bag. She’d turned her phone off before the section started. As it booted up, she saw that she had four messages waiting, all from Lloyd. ‘Is it Chris?’ Suddenly the day seemed cold. ‘Is anyone hurt?’
    â€˜No, no. Nothing like that.’ Lloyd leaned over, with his hands on his thighs. Dulcie had never seen her pudgy office mate out of breath before. Then again, she’d never seen him run. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’
    Dulcie exhaled, suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath, and waited while Lloyd caught his.
    â€˜It’s Rafe Hutchins,’ he said finally. ‘There’s been, well, I guess there have been some problems.’
    â€˜Rafe?’ She had spoken to the senior tutor barely an hour ago. ‘But I was just talking to him.’
    Lloyd shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Dulcie. Something’s come up, and he called me about fifteen minutes ago. I think it’s got to do with the dean – Dean Haitner.’
    â€˜I just saw him go by, too.’ Dulcie felt a twinge of remorse. Rafe had agreed to do her a favor, because of his friendship with Lloyd. Had the dean somehow found out about it and decided to punish the tutor? Dulcie didn’t know the man, but she’d heard about his ego. She wouldn’t want to cross him, and she certainly didn’t want to be the cause of someone else getting stuck in the doghouse. ‘I didn’t introduce myself though.’
    Lloyd stopped her before she could continue. ‘It’s not you. It’s this Melinda. I gather she’s been getting threats.