He was standing ready to face down the dean of this universityforme.
“Why the hell couldn’t your grand gesture be flowers?” I muttered as I took his hand.
“Because you wouldn’t love me if I didn’t risk it all,” he murmured back.
“Maxwell.” Mom looked Dad over from head to foot. “That suit was in the donation pile, not the keep pile.”
Dante didn’t stifle his laugh in time; he shut up when both my parents switched their attention from each other to him.
“Eliza,” Dad greeted. “You look stunning, as ever.” His eyes flicked to mine. “So much for yourgolden rule, Savannah.”
“What’s—”
“Shut up.” I dug my elbow into Dante’s side.
“What brings you to town?” Dad asked Mom as if we weren’t here, his eyes never once taking in my sculpture.
Mom glanced at Dante. “I received a call from a concerned student about grade altering, falsified injury reports, under-the-table payouts, and—” she smiled, and it was colder than hell — “the fact that you told my daughter that she was notfitto attend this university.”
Dad winced at the last part. “Things were said in anger—”
My mother’s laughter cut off anything else he was going to say. “Really, Maxwell?”
“Eliza, is this the best time?” my dad asked her wearily. “I update you every week when you call to see how Savannah is.”
“You do?” I blurted.
She looked at me with exasperation. “You’re my daughter, Savannah. Of course I want to know how you are.” She looked away. “You won’t talk to me, so I talk to your father.”
I looked at Dante, who said nothing. “I didn’t know that,” I admitted. I also wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
“Maxwell, there seem to be some things you left out of your calls,” she declared. Her gaze swept the shed. “Did you know this art professor you had spying on her tried to make a move on her yesterday?”
Dad paled as he looked me over from head to toe. “What? Are you hurt? What happened?”
“It was okay, Dante walked in and put an end to the conversation.”
“It wasnotokay,” Dante said clearly. “Not okay at all. I had to convince her to let go of a mallet, a weapon she was holding in case she needed to defend herself.”
“Savannah...” My dad looked devastated. “I didn’t know—”
“And why would you?” my mom asked him. “Have you lost control entirely?” Shetsked. “Really, Maxwell? You letBobby Ray Sutherlanddictate to you?” She looked offended at the thought. “You are one of the most intelligent men I have ever met, the fact that you could not—”
“This is alegacyschool,” Dad interrupted coldly. “This is aninstitutionbuilt on tradition, politics, andmoney. The veryoldkind of money that doesn’t move with the times. Changes cannot be made overnight.” He looked behind him and strode to the door, closing it firmly. He cast a sharp look toward Dante. “You repeat nothing you hear, do you understand me?”
“Sir.”
Dad looked at me, his look just a touch softer. “Same for you.”
Mom was watching him, calculating every movement, every word spoken.
“I’m doing my best,” he said, and he suddenly looked tired. “This isn’t something that can be cleaned up in a few years. Every semester, I uncover another layer.” He looked over at me, concern in his eyes. “I don’t know who to trust; I thought Yates would be perfect. You always talked about him when you were in his class, he enjoyed teaching you...” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t ever suspect anything about him. He said your work showed promise.”
“Promise?” Mom looked at the sculpture. “The glasswork — her cuts are clean to the point of surgical.” She smiled at me. Actually smiled. “It’s a true pity you faint at the sight of blood, your hands are quite skilled.”
Dante’s hand squeezed mine. “The NCAA could uncover it within months,” Dante spoke up, eager to return to the main concern. He shuffled his feet; obviously, this wasn’t his desired outcome.
My dad was already shaking his head. “Grade altering gets a fine, perhaps a suspension for the coach. Alumni donations, they’re called donations for a reason. How the Academic Association distributes that money is up to them. They’ve technically done nothing that is worth risking the students at this school for, yet.” His attention was only on Dante. “Yet.”
