“I need to put all these opening nights in my calendar. What time should Gage and I get there if we want a photo with you first? We’ll grab Lillian on the way.”
“Six thirty.” Georgina reached over and tapped Bea’s watch, the Cartier Gage had given her for her birthday. “Don’t be late.”
“Me? Tell your cousin to stop operating in three time zones and maybe I won’t have to sprint inside in heels.”
Bea adjusted her coat as she stepped into the administration building. The place always reminded her of an old estate house turned headquarters. It was grand, but clinical, with towering windows, gleaming floors, and the smell of pine cleaner.
She gave her name at the desk and was directed upstairs to a corner meeting room, the kind lined with landscape prints and too many chairs. A woman from Housing Services was already there, shuffling papers.
“You’re Beatriz Cruz?”
“Yes. Thank you for seeing me,” Bea said, offering a quick smile.
“Of course. This is about your housing request for next year?”
“Yes. Lillian Clarke and I were hoping to move in together, ideally still in Mayfield Hall, if that’s possible.”
The woman nodded, flipping through a file. “That’ll depend on capacity.”
“We understand that. That’s why I thought I’d ask early. We also both work in Northgate. Lillian is at the Children’s Integration Institute and myself at Monaghan and Stowe. Is there a possibility for subsidized off-campus housing? Something in the city?”
The woman nodded. “You’re not the first to ask. That’s a newer policy, still in pilot. But yes, there might be options. You’ll need to submit a request with employer verification and updated financial need forms.”
Bea nodded and signed where indicated. The rest of the conversation passed in administrative shorthand as she was walked through deadlines, portals, initials on the last page.
“Thanks again,” Bea said, gathering her folder. “I really appreciate your time.”
The woman gave a tight smile. “We’ll be in touch.”
Bea stepped back into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind her. She’d only taken a few steps when movement at the stairwell caught her eye.
A girl stood there, clutching a thin green folder like a shield, her dark hair pulled into a too-tight ponytail. The receptionist must’ve waved her upstairs, but no one had followed up. She looked about eighteen and heartbreakingly hopeful.
Bea offered a soft smile. “Are you here for a scholarship advisor?”
The girl blinked. “Yes. I was told to wait in Room 2C but I’m not sure where that is…”
“You’re close. I was you last year. That folder gave you away.”
The girl flushed. “I’m Beth.”
“Hi, Beth. I’m Bea.” She stepped toward her, gesturing left. “Room 2C is just this way.”
“Thank you. I’m sure the woman downstairs explained it. I was just so nervous I forgot.”
“I understand completely.” Bea smiled. “But you don’t have to be nervous. If you were accepted to St. Ives, that means you belong here.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
GAGE
The signature came in at 4:27 p.m.
Nate was the first to see the notification. He didn’t speak, just turned his screen.
