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“Of course they won’t.” Kathryn frowned at him. He’d said where there’s smoke, there’s fire. If Nate believed the professor was guilty, why would he have come back to help? “I can’t believe you asked him that.”
“He’s right to ask,” the professor said.
“It’s a defense attorney thing. Some don’t want to know.” Nate briefly met her gaze as he leaned his forearms on the chair back. “Others do so they don’t put a client on the witness stand and risk perjury or self-incrimination. I prefer to know the good, bad and ugly up front because I don’t like surprises.”
The professor glanced away as he said, “They’re looking for a way to get rid of me. I think some of it is about my age.”
Kathryn met Nate’s gaze. “Age discrimination is illegal, though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
For the first time since she saw him, Professor Harrison smiled. “Smart girl.”
“Thank you.” Kathryn glowed at the compliment. Not everyone had looked past her face to give her IQ the benefit of the doubt. From now on, she thought, brains were going to have to be enough.
The professor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “No one has come right out and said anything directly about my age. They’re saying I’m unprofessional. Can’t be such a ‘pal’ to the students. Can’t hold their hand. They’re in college now. Teachers have to keep a certain distance. Liability issues and such.”
“They’re wrong.” Kathryn’s heart went out to him. “It’s a style thing. If I remember right, your approach was that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Many students owe you a lot.”
“I’m one of them,” Nate said. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for you.”
“So you’re happy with the way things turned out?” the professor asked.
“Of course,” Nate said automatically. “But I still don’t understand why you sent for us.”
The professor sighed as his faded brown eyes regarded them gravely. “I was hoping some of my former students would come back and put in a good word for me.”
“We’d be happy to,” Kathryn said, glancing up at Nate, who nodded agreement. “But how will that help?”
“A good question. Especially with Sandra Westport stirring up a hornet’s nest.”
“Sir?” Nate said, clearly puzzled. It was one single, respectful form of address to get the older man back on track.
“I’m sorry. That’s another story. I was hoping you could simply tell the board that my method of teaching made a difference. That the career path you’ve chosen is of benefit to mankind and might not have happened but for my guidance and educational support.”
“You want us to make them believe you have wings, a halo and walk on water?” Nate said wryly.
A smile pulled at the corners of the professor’s mouth. “Is that so very far from the truth?”
“Just a little,” Nate said, holding up his thumb and forefinger close together.
“I wouldn’t dream of putting words in your mouth. But, I do hope I’ve been of some help in setting you on your paths. One likes to think it made a difference.” He looked sad, suddenly, and miserable. “I’ve dedicated my life to teaching. Being around young people has always been very important to me and it’s all I have now.”
“That can’t be true,” Kathryn protested.
“But, it is, you see. My wife died not long ago. And I haven’t always been…” He had a faraway look in his eyes as he sighed. “I feel as if I’ve lost so much. I don’t think I could bear it if my job—my career were taken away, as well. There’s so much more good I can do. I’m hoping that they’ll see what I’ve accomplished and show leniency and compassion.”
Nate frowned. “No one knows words like an English professor,” he commented. “You’re the best teacher I ever had. I swear you made me memorize the Ninth Collegiate Dictionary from cover to cover.”
Another fleeting grin from the old man. “You’re exaggerating, my boy.”
“Only a little. But I know firsthand your intricate understanding of words and knack for choosing just the right one. You were forever after me to put a finer point on whatever I was trying to convey.”
“And what is it you’re trying to convey now, Nate?”
“That leniency is an odd choice of words for a man who’s above suspicion.”
“You always were too bright for your own good,” the professor mumbled.
“What do you mean?” Kathryn asked, his words giving her a bad feeling.
He shook his head. “Just that no one is perfect. Everyone has regrets, things they wish it were possible to go back and change.”
Kathryn knew he was right. If she had it to do over, she’d never have dated Ted Hawkins in college. Professor Gilbert had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened. Then it was too late. The thought made her shiver, making her angry with herself. She tried so hard to bury all this. Yet here she was acting as if it had happened yesterday.
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Nate commented, echoing her thoughts. “And regrets are not an actionable offense.”
“He’s right,” Kathryn agreed, shaking off her own demons.
“I like being right.” He grinned down at her, then it faded. When his glance went to the older man, he shifted nervously. “But without knowing specifics of the allegations, I’m not sure what I can say in your defense.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t be more specific,” the professor protested. He looked down at his hands, folded on his desk. “It’s all very complicated. But there’s someone involved—a…a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous.”
“Like the Lone Ranger?” Nate asked.
“Hardly that heroic,” the professor said. “No mask. No silver bullets or white stallions. This person simply helped students. Made it possible for some to receive an education who might not otherwise have been able to attend college. That sort of thing.”
“And he doesn’t want to be thanked?” Kathryn asked.
“I never said it was a ‘he.’” The professor’s tone was sharp. “I’m sorry. I simply cannot say anything else. I won’t break a confidence.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Nate. “And I understand you’ve become very adept at getting people to let unintended information slip.”
“It’s my job to ask questions,” Nate said, the words clipped. “That’s what attorneys do.”
“And isn’t it lucky for the professor that you are one,” Kathryn said, wondering what was going on between the two men. “He might need legal counsel if this goes any further.”
“If Sandra Westport has her way it will go very far.”
“You mentioned her before,” Kathryn commented. “What is she doing?”
“Her husband, David, was one of my students. They met here at Saunders and fell in love. Now they own a store in Boston and she’s a journalist for her small, hometown newspaper. Unfortunately her nose for news has her sniffing my way.” The professor sighed. “She’s inordinately curious about what she calls ‘the mysterious patron.’ This is a very sensitive time for me. While my job is in jeopardy, it would be better if she ceased her inquiries. The uproar she’s creating is channeling suspicion toward me. Not that she’ll find anything,” he hastily added.
“Maybe Nate could help,” Kathryn suggested. The words popped out before a cohesive thought had formed in her mind. But the idea had merit. He was an attorney. It was his job to sway opinion. “Maybe he could talk to Sandra Westport and convince her to drop her investigation.”
Nate met her gaze, then nodded at the professor. “Of course. Whatever I can do.”
Kathryn sighed. “You’re a wonderful role model and mentor, Professor Harrison. You’re the first person who challenged me. The first who made me consider the possibility that I’m more than just…” She stopped and looked down.
“A pretty face?” the professor said gently.
She met his gaze. For the first time since entering his office she saw the kindness and compassion in his expression that she remembered from all those years ago.
“Yes,” she admitted. Absently, she touched her fingertips to the groove on her cheek. “Boy, that sounds conceited and so stuck-up. And ironic.”
“I never knew you to be vain,” the older man said kindly. “The young woman I knew was honest and self-aware and to the best of my knowledge never said an unkind word to anyone.”
“Th—there was an accident—” Her voice caught and she stopped. “My face—isn’t the same.”
“No. Neither is mine.” He glanced up. “For that matter, neither is Nate’s.”
“Some of us are just late bloomers,” Nate said, an edge to his voice as a muscle in his cheek jumped.
“The point is,” the professor said, meeting her gaze again, “appearance is not a person’s defining essence. It’s simply one part of the whole, which is constantly changing.”
She smiled ruefully. “You’re just giving me philosophical spin.”
He shrugged. “Philosophy is attitude, and that can make all the difference. For what that’s worth.”
“It’s worth a lot. Unlike anything I might have to say to the board on your behalf.”
“You’ve always underestimated yourself, my dear.”
She shook her head. “You sent out a call for help to your former students who made something of themselves. But I have to ask—why me?”
“How can you say that?” Nate protested.
She glanced up at the man still standing beside her. “You said it yourself—this is the face that launched a thousand lipsticks. That’s not a cure for cancer or a plan for world peace. It’s superficial and unimportant.”
“Not to the cosmetics industry,” Nate commented.
“How very defense attorney of you,” she said wryly. “But the fact is I don’t know if I can help. I’m not sure that anything I say will carry any weight. I’m not noble. I’ve done nothing very important with my career, or my life. For that matter, I don’t even have a life. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
The professor smiled. “Then I would say your return to Saunders University is fortuitous.”
“How do you mean?” she asked.
“At the risk of a clichéd metaphor, roots are the best place to dig for bits of yourself. Your roots are here at college. Unless I miss my guess, this is where you truly began to blossom.”
Nodding absently, she thought about what he said. “Maybe. But I wish it wasn’t your misfortune that brought me back.”
“Every cloud has a silver lining.” When the professor laughed, he sounded out of practice. “I seem to be in rare form today—clichés everywhere.”
Kathryn stood. “Don’t worry, Professor. Nate and I will do everything we can to help you.”
And helping the professor was the blind leading the blind, Nate thought. He pulled his BMW into a space in the hotel parking lot and turned off the ignition, then went around to the passenger side to open Katie’s door. It was a miracle she was still there—a miracle the professor hadn’t let the proverbial cat out of the bag. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his own troubles, he could easily have expanded on Nate’s talent for eliciting information. Or how much he’d changed since college. Fortunately, he’d done neither.
“Here we are,” he said, after he’d opened her door and held out his hand.
She looked at it for several moments before tentatively accepting. “Thank you.”
“Although I’m not exactly sure where ‘here’ is,” he admitted. “And I don’t mean that literally.”
“I knew that. The professor wasn’t much help,” she said, falling into step beside him.
“If anything, he created more questions than he answered,” he said ruefully.
“At least we know what the problem is and what we can do to help.”
“Yes.”
To give the college board of directors a testimonial on how the professor influenced him on a career path to benefit humanity. Nate supposed a defense attorney fell into that category, although some compared him to a shark. He had the reputation of being less concerned about the merits of a case than a defendant’s ability to pay for his billable hours. He also had a reputation for winning.
His services were sought after and he was in a position to pick and choose his clients. He picked the ones who could afford him. Long ago he’d realized knowledge was power and knowledge of the law was the power to make a difference for the less fortunate. Like his grandmother. Lately he’d had a nagging feeling the woman who’d raised him after his parents died wouldn’t approve of the man he’d become. And now he wasn’t so sure the slick lawyer he’d become could convince anyone that what he did was a help to humanity. But he’d try. For the professor.
“So what do we do now?” Katie asked.
Their footsteps clicked on the lobby’s marble floor as they walked to the elevator. He pushed the up button. “We need to arrange to give our testimonials to the board. Earlier today I tried to see the administrator, Alex Broadstreet.”
“And?” She looked up at him expectantly.
He shook his head. “He blew me off. Technically his secretary did, but he’s calling the shots.”
“Judging by the expression on your face, you’re not a happy camper.”
“Let me count the ways,” he said grimly. “I was hoping this was all a misunderstanding and could be resolved with a simple conversation.”
“Of course now we know that’s not going to happen.”
“No. In fact when I bumped into you earlier—”
“Literally.”
He smiled. It was the best collision he’d had in a long time. The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. “Yes. I’d just come from trying to see Broadstreet.”
“Is there a problem? Other than the obvious, I mean.”
“I live two hours away. On the other side of Boston. I’d planned to resolve this and drive home tonight.”
“Pride goeth before a fall,” she said.
She didn’t know how right she was. He wasn’t used to failing. But a recent case and now this were giving him lessons in humility. Still, seeing her again made him wonder if this fall wasn’t a blessing in disguise.
“Is that a nice way of saying I’m arrogant?” he teased.
“If the shoe fits…” She shrugged. “Are you?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t have to use the shoehorn on that one. Or I could plead the fifth—don’t want to incriminate myself.”
“So you didn’t meet your objective today. Couldn’t you call for an appointment and come back?” she suggested.
