Lessons in Chemistry(57)

E.Z.

The Chemistry Department celebrated Elizabeth’s return with a new lab coat.

“It’s from all of us,” Donatti said. “To show how much we’ve missed you.” Surprised by the gesture, she eagerly accepted it, donning the white jacket amid scattered applause followed by a few loud guffaws. She glanced down at the stitching above the pocket. Where it had once read “E. Zott,” it now read only “E.Z.”

“Like it?” Dr. Donatti said, winking. “By the way”—he crooked his finger, indicating she should follow him to his office—“a little bird told me you’re still pursuing abiogenesis.”

Elizabeth drew back. She hadn’t told anyone about her research. The only person who might possibly know was Boryweitz, and that was only because the last time he’d been over Mad had woken from a nap, and when she’d returned, she’d found Boryweitz sitting at her desk, going through her files. “What are you doing?” she’d asked, shocked.

“Nothing, Miss Zott,” he’d said, obviously wounded by her tone.



* * *



—

“I have something coming out myself,” said Donatti, settling behind his desk. “It’ll be in Science Journal soon.”

“What’s the topic?”

“Nothing earth-shattering,” he replied with a shrug. “RNA stuff. You know how it is: have to put something out there every so often or pay the professional price. But I’m interested in yours. When can I read your paper?”

“I have a few things left to focus on,” she said. “If I can be allowed to concentrate on just that without distraction for the next six weeks, I should have something for you.”

“Concentrate on just your work?” he said, surprised. “That seems rather Calvin Evansesque, doesn’t it?”

At the mention of Calvin’s name, Elizabeth’s face froze.

“I’m sure you remember that’s not how this department runs,” Donatti was saying. “We help one another here. We’re a team. Like crew,” he mocked. He’d overheard her tell one of the other chemists she was still rowing. Well, maybe if she hadn’t been rowing, she’d be further on with her own work. Although he’d already gone through the files she’d brought in and he was shocked to realize she was much further along than Boryweitz seemed to realize. The man was an idiot.

“Here,” Donatti said, handing her a huge stack of papers. “Start by typing these. Also, we’re low on coffee. And talk to each of the fellas—see what kind of support they need.”

“Support?” Elizabeth said. “But I’m a chemist, not a lab tech.”

“No, you’re a lab tech,” Donatti said firmly. “You’ve been out of the game for a while now. Surely you didn’t think you could just waltz in here and get your old job back—not after years of thumb twiddling. But here’s the deal—work hard and we’ll see.”

“But this isn’t what we discussed.”

“Relax, Luscious,” he drawled. “It’s not—”

“What did you just call me?”

But before he could answer, his secretary reminded him of a meeting.

“Look,” he said, turning back to Elizabeth, “you enjoyed favored status when Evans was here and plenty of people haven’t forgiven you for that. This time, though, we’ll make sure everyone knows you earned your place. You’re a bright girl, Lizzie. It’s possible.”

“But I was counting on the chemist’s paycheck, Dr. Donatti. I can’t get by financially as a lab tech. I’ve got a child to support.”

“About that,” he said, waving his hand. “I’ve got some good news. I’ve asked Hastings to fund your further education.”

“Really?” she said, astonished. “Hastings would pay for my PhD?”

Donatti stood up, stretching his arms above his head as if he’d just finished a workout. “No,” he said. “What I meant was, I think you might benefit from steno school—dictation. I found a correspondence course for you,” he said, handing her a brochure. “The beauty is, you could do it at home in your free time.”



* * *



—

Heart rocketing around her chest, Elizabeth returned to her desk, slammed the files down, then headed directly for the ladies room, where she selected the stall farthest from the door and locked herself in. Harriet was right. What had she done? But before she could even begin to ponder the question, a banging sound came from the next stall over.

“Hello?” Elizabeth called.

The banging stopped.

“Hello?” Elizabeth tried again. “Is everything all right?”

“Mind your own business,” shot a voice.

Elizabeth hesitated, then tried again. “Do you need—”

“Are you deaf? Leave me the hell alone!”

She paused. The voice was familiar. “Miss Frask?” she asked, picturing the Personnel secretary who’d tortured her with Calvin’s passing years before. “Is that you, Miss Frask?”

“Who the hell wants to know?” came the belligerent voice.

“Elizabeth Zott. Chemistry.”