JUNE — NINE WEEKS TO WIN OVER THE FACULTY
Maybe Quinn’sright and the professors are determined not to get along with her, but there’s no way that an art history professor is going to turn down access to the Galleria Borghese after hours, even if it means spending time with Quinn.
The scent of flowers from the villa’s garden wraps around me as I wait for Quinn and Sydney to arrive. A few days ago, I watched over the top of my book as Quinn approached Sydney in the lounge. Quinn stood over her, althoughovermay be generous when Quinn barely topped her while she was sitting. Sydney looked up at her in confusion, astounded that Quinn was talking to her.
“Dr. Larsen, I wanted to invite you to a site visit I have for one of our art history interns.”
Sydney’s mouth pinched. “I’m grateful for the invitation, but unfortunately, I can’t join you. My schedule’s too tight to fit something like that in.”
Quinn feigned disappointment, even though we both knew she was expecting the rejection. “I understand, but it’s such ashame. I always love spending time in the Galleria when the crowds aren’t clogging up the space around Bernini’s masterpieces.”
Quinn shook her head, keeping her face peaceful. I snorted into my coffee, but turned it into a cough, waving off the concerned looks from the surrounding students who were unaware of the way Quinn masterfully pulled her puppet strings.
“The Galleria?” Sydney called out to Quinn’s retreating back.
My beautiful and shockingly devious best friend met my eyes, her own lit with excitement and satisfaction, and I’d nearly gone to my knees before her.
Now, I spot them from afar, Quinn’s infectious smile beaming across the park like the sun. Sydney walks next to her with a much more subdued smile, but at least a pleasant expression on her face.
Sydney’s black hair is back in a messy braid, and she fidgets with her rumpled outfit as she stares at the museum’s facade. She was granted tenure almost two decades ago, so she can’t lose her job for voicing her support, but she can still make enemies. We need to give her a reason to rock the boat.
The first step: help her fall in love with Quinn. Should be easy.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say as they reach me.
“It’s good to see you, Colton,” Sydney says as we settle into step together.
“Thank you for letting me join you.”
“I didn’t know you had an appreciation for Bernini,” she says with an approving nod.
“I didn’t at first. If it wasn’t from antiquity, I didn’t care. Quinn was the one who showed me… let’s call it the error of my ways.”
She turns to Quinn with a questioning look. “You two knew each other before this?”
I smile at Quinn. “We’ve been friends since undergrad.”
“That explains it,” Sydney says with a little laugh. “We’ve all been wondering what would compel you to attach yourself to her little ultimatum.”
Quinn goes rigid, that brilliant smile falling for a half second before she plasters something much less compelling across her face.
“I attached myself to theproposal,” I say with lethal calm, “because I think it has value.Mypriority is the well-being of the Billings students.”
Sydney rears back slightly, her cheeks going pink.
Quinn quickly cuts the awkwardness. “I was a classics major, like Colton, but I spent my summers in Rome with my father, and no artist can compete with Bernini. One of my close friends from those summers became an assistant curator here.” Her lips curve up at the memory of her friend, and I fight the urge to trace that smile with my fingertips.
Tomasso became a close friend of mine, too. He has the same quiet, focused energy I brought to my own studies, and we spent plenty of nights commiserating over the heavy load of our post-graduate work.
I turn my attention to Sydney. “I’ve reviewed the students’ journals with Quinn, and I’ve been impressed with your student’s work here. Catherine, right?”
A small smile graces Sydney’s face. “Yes, she’s a superstar in our department.”
“I can see why. You should take a look at how Quinn’s coached her through this experience. I think you’ll be equally impressed.”
She eyes Quinn speculatively, but we’re interrupted before she can speak.
“Quinn! Da quanto tempo!”
