Her tone leaves little room for argument, and I’m about to stand to leave when her father raises an aged hand.
“Isabella, it’s not every day we meet students so eager to discuss complex topics.”
She presses her lips together, clearly holding back a retort out of respect for him, certainly not for me.
“Actually, I have some unpublished data on a new catalytic process I’ve been tinkering with.”
His hand lowers to the table, and his knotted fingers slightly tremble.
“Would you be interested in taking a look?”
My heart skips a beat as I lean forward, my elbows teetering on the table’s edge at the mention of his work papers.
“That would be incredible.”
“Isabella, can you retrieve my bag?”
He gestures toward an old duffel bag by the door. I’m up and off the stool before she can object or make another excuse to get rid of me. I sprint over, grab the handles, and place it on a stool that I quickly pull up beside him.
“Ah, to move with such ease.”
He chuckles, his dark eyes glistening with an excitement that mirrors mine. His daughter’s eyes are murdering me in every way possible behind her father’s back. He moves to his bag, retrieving a worn notebook with loose pages of scribbles shoved into it. He straightens up the papers and offers them to me.
“Here.”
My mouth opens, my gaze darting from him to her and back. He’s offering me the holy grail as if it’s no big deal. I’m slow to respond until the tremor in his outstretched hand becomes too much, and I grasp the weathered notebook to set it carefully on the table.
“These are preliminary findings. I’d value your thoughts.”
Her eyes widen, moving to the end of the table and squarely within reach of us. Her hand covers the notebook, preventing me from opening it. Not that I’m offended. I completely understand the need to guard one’s private observations and experimentations.
“Papà, are you sure?—”
“Yeah, Dr. Rossi, what she said,” I chime in, my hand slipping off the table so as not to appear greedy even though I’m dying to look inside.
It’s a peek into the genius mind of an esteemed chemist and a legend in the science world. My hesitation is met with an approving nod from her, the first sign that we finally agree about something. The only thing at this point.
He smiles reassuringly at her.
“Cara, it’s alright. Sharing knowledge is how we all grow. How our work is advanced.”
With her lips pursed, she’s not happy with his openness. His classes were legendary. Even Dom talked about them from his brief time at Princeton. Dr. Rossi’s name lingered in the chem building long after his retirement. Dom was disappointed he’d retired years before he went there, but swapped stories with esteemed colleagues who had the chance to work alongside him.
He’s a teaching scientist.
It’s in his blood.
His daughter, not so much.
Given how stingy she is in sharing knowledge, I wonder if she should be a professor.
After another long second, her hand withdraws, content to stand over me and shoulder surf when I crack it open. It’s filled with more scribbled notes and diagrams. I skim the first few pages. Some I can’t read because the handwriting is illegible, or . . .
“It’s written in Italian,” she mutters, turning the book toward herself and tracing the messy cursive writing with her finger.
“Oh.”
I gaze up at her and scratch my head, wondering how I’ll understand this. When our eyes meet, hers softens a fraction, and a long sigh exits her sexy lips.
