Dad’s office always smelled faintly of old books and polished wood, like he wanted everyone to remember the university’s ‘prestige’ before they even sat down. There was one photograph of my mother on his desk, a recent award she’d received. There was nothing else personal. The photo of her getting a reward was another strategic move to remind everyone that his wife was brilliant.
Just not at parenting. Or marriage. But those things didn’t win awards.
“Savannah,” he greeted as I sat down. It was almost as if he knew I was glaring at her photo.
“Hi, Dad.” I told myself not to react as he looked over my clothes, and I saw the slight frown at my faded jeans, sweater, and jacket. “Thanks for the fifteen-minute warning.”
He gave me that administrator look he’d perfected after years of working in education.
“You were in the economics building, Savannah, not the opposite side of the campus.”
I had been almost at the opposite side of campus, but I just let it go and clasped my hands together. “What do you need?”
“A father can’t ask to see his daughter?”
I’m sure he could, but my dad wasn’t that father. I didn’t say that, though. I merely kept the pleasant smile on my face.
“You’ll keep tutoring Dante Spence,” my father said, the statement so casual it took me a second to realize he’d changed the subject.
I frowned. “You’re suddenly okay with me spending more time with the quarterback?”
“I’m not suddenly okay with it,” he said, folding his hands on the desk. “I’m making a judgment call.”
Which, in Dean Cole speak, meant he’d decided what benefited him most.
“You’re a good liaison, Savannah. Smart. Capable. The committee’s been circling like vultures since the championship, waiting for a reason to push harder on the athletics department. More money into the athletics divisions in this school is not what this educational institution needs. But if Spence fails, they’ll have one.”
“So this is about saving the football program’s image? Or money?”
“It’s about saving the university’s image,” he corrected, his tone sharpening. “The team’s reputation impacts enrollment, donations, and the very leverage we have in state funding negotiations. They are an asset to Wrighton U. They do not need any more investment in the sports program. You know that as well as I do.”
“And if you protect their image, you protect your reputation on the committee and get funding for educational improvements at the same time,” I said, because we both knew where this was heading.
His mouth curved faintly — not a smile, more an acknowledgment. “If Spence stays eligible and performs, it shuts down the critics. If he doesn’t...” He gave a small shrug. “It won’t be because the academic office didn’t do its job in the first place and get him over the line.”
“And by ‘do its job,’ you mean . . . ?”
“Keep him on track. If there’s something I should know before it becomes a problem...” He let the sentence hang, all suggestion and no direct order.
I crossed my arms, not sure what I was hearing. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
“What do you think I’m asking, Savannah?”
“You want me to spy on him for you.”
“I want you to be thorough,” he said smoothly, without a flicker of emotion. “If that happens to mean you notice...patterns. If it’s likely he needsmorethan tutoring help, something that might bring this program into the spotlight for the wrong reasons, then I trust you’ll use your judgment.”
Patterns.God, he made it sound so clinical.
I sat with the request for a moment. He was asking me to watch a student and report back. That wasn’t what tutors did. Well, not report back to the dean.
I said nothing — not about the football team, not about Dante — and I let my father fill the silence as he thought about what he had just asked me.
“And if I notice something. . . I come to you?” I asked curiously.
Dad sniffed. “You come to me.”
I fought back my surprise. “The Blues have just won us the national championship. Don’t they have a right to be proud of their accomplishment?”
