My Professor(74)
My voice dwindles away as he pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. I wince when he curses.
“There’s no time. Let’s go.”
He walks away, leaving me standing there as the rest of my team stares on. Hugo and Meera shoot me empathetic looks, but that’s it. Everyone else follows Lewis’ lead. The annoyed glares are hard to ignore as I stow my things quickly at my desk and trail behind everyone into the conference room, where sure enough, the entire Belle Haven team is sitting and waiting. I’m the last person to arrive at the meeting.
I peer over at the head of the long conference table, knowing what I’ll find. Professor Barclay is back. He sits beside Mr. Banks, and though they’re talking quietly, he doesn’t miss my entrance. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, my heart threatens to fissure, and then I look away, conscious of the fact that I’m barely keeping it together. I’m sure my eyes are watering and my face is red. My hands are squeezed into tight fists at my sides. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have to endure this meeting, and I wish, most of all, he wasn’t here to witness my failure.
The conservation team stays clustered in the corner up front while Lewis begins to speak. He wastes no time before throwing me under the bus. After he thanks everyone for their attendance, he apologizes for the fact that we’ll only be working off the digital component of the presentation, displayed on the monitor behind him.
“A member of our team failed to get the printed booklets in time, and though it will be hard to follow along, we’ll make do.”
I don’t miss the fact that Inés takes a half-step away from me as if trying to distance herself from my mess-up.
The subtle jabs don’t stop. Over the course of fifteen minutes, Lewis only makes me feel worse: “You would have been able to see this better with the booklet in front of you, but what I’m talking about are these windows here” and “In the booklet we had a photo that’s not included up here that would have shown you the detail work on this section of the exterior stone.”
My head is hung in shame the entire time.
Then begins the fun part as each member of the conservation team steps up one by one to discuss their specific portion of the presentation. For instance, Hugo was assigned the atrium at the front of the house. He brings to light a few challenges we face there with the glass ceiling and iron work. Meera speaks after him to go over the grand staircase and foyer. I’m covering the Tiffany glass windows, and I’m a nervous wreck as Meera moves aside and lets me push to the front of the small group of conservationists so all eyes are on me. Even on a good day, I would have been nervous to speak in front of a room filled with so many important people. Today, I’m almost paralyzed by it.
“Next, I’ll be discussing the windows in the breakfast nook.”
“Speak up, please,” someone says.
“Um—”
My throat squeezes so tight I have to force each word out as I continue. Emotion is evident in every shaky syllable.
“I-I would argue that the Tiffany windows seen here are the single most important detail in the east wing of the house.”
“They cannot hear you, Emelia,” Lewis chides.
I fight to keep my composure as a tear slips down my right cheek. I turn so it’s hidden, but that only makes it harder for everyone to hear me.
“The windows—”
Lewis steps up and drops his hand onto my shoulder, tugging me back so he can finish my portion of the presentation for me. His booming voice vibrates through me as I slip back behind everyone else, taking cover as I swipe away the tears now freely spilling down my cheeks.
I only make it harder by berating myself for not keeping it together in front of everyone at work.
When the meeting ends, I sway forward in relief, immediately turning toward the door to flee, but then I hear Professor Barclay’s voice over all the other chat.
“Lewis, you’ll stay for a moment. Emelia as well.”
My heart pounds almost painfully in my chest as I wait for the conference room to clear out. Meera rubs my arm reassuringly and hangs back as long as she can, but eventually she has to leave too.
When it’s just the three of us left, I peer over toward Lewis. His smug expression tells me exactly what he thinks is about to happen.
Professor Barclay rounds the table with ominous footfalls as he comes to stand in front of me, turning toward Lewis, acting as an impenetrable wall between me and my immediate boss.
With his back to me, he addresses Lewis. “I could barely sit through that presentation. What you just did…” He shakes his head as if trying to calm himself down. “I want to make it clear that I will not allow any employee at this company to be treated the way you just treated Ms. Mercier. Am I understood?”
His tone leaves absolutely no room for argument. Lewis’ eyes widen in shock. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Professor Barclay’s anger to be aimed at him.
“Now, pertaining to the booklets your team failed to supply…” He turns back to me and asks, “Emelia, did your immediate supervisor submit those for printing?”
I hesitate at first, not wanting to get on Lewis’ bad side, but Professor Barclay says my name again, more insistently this time, and I shake my head.
“And did your supervisor—it’s Doug, right? Did Doug or Lewis check in with you last night to confirm the booklets were sent to the printer by the correct time?”