“Dad!” said Lauren, smacking Orson across the front of his suit.
“Be careful, Orson,” I teased. I accepted a glass of red wine from the bartender. “I can always uninvite you.”
“I paid for the open bar, remember?”
“Then I suppose I can forgive your impropriety for the sake of my boozy guests,” I replied, tipping my glass to him in a mock toast.
He grinned and took a sip of his drink. “I find I must offer you my congratulations. I heard you were accepted into several rather prestigious PhD programs, including one here at Waverly. Have you decided whether or not to continue gracing our fine institution with your presence?”
“I think I’ll leave you hanging for a little longer.”
“But of course. I did quite enjoy your thesis though. It was… illuminating.”
“What did you like most about it?” I asked. “The fact that I managed to leave your name out of its majority?”
“I must admit,” said Orson. “When you proposed an in-depth analysis of the Black Raptor Society’s history and influence, I wasn’t so sure about it, but you won me over. Is it true you’d like to publish it?”
“If I can. Even from an objective point of view, I think quite a few people would be interested in the Raptors.”
Orson nodded his agreement. “Let me know. I have contacts in publishing.”
From the dance floor, Wes steered my mother out of some sort of strange mambo and into Henry’s arms. “Whew!” he said, wiping his forehead. At some point, he’d abandoned the jacket of his tux. “I’m winded. Natasha, who knew you were such a lovely dancer?”
My mother raised a sardonic eyebrow as Henry ordered white wine for her from the bartender. “You flatter me, Weston.”
“He flatters everyone,” interjected Lauren with a roll of her eyes, but before she could offer another nugget of sarcasm, Olivia sashayed by. She grabbed Lauren with one hand and a flute of champagne with the other, spinning Lauren like a top as they laughed their way back out to the dance floor.
Orson bowed to Henry and offered his hand. “A dance, sir?”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” said Henry gruffly. “But I wouldn’t say no to one of those fancy cigars you’re sure to have somewhere on your person.”
“Happy to oblige.” With a flourish, Orson extracted two cigars from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“Um, excuse me, but I think you’re forgetting about the groom,” said Wes, plucking one of the cigars from Orson’s hand.
“Not to worry,” said Orson as he handed the second cigar to Henry. “Shall we?”
Natasha leaned toward me as Henry, Orson, and Wes disappeared through a side door of the ballroom. “Should I be worried?”
As the band struck up the first few bars of “Come Fly With Me,” I laughed and said, “Henry needs some friends, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose,” she said with a shrug. She smiled at me. “You look happy.”
“I am happy.” I hugged Natasha close. “Come on, Mom. Dance with me. I love this song.”
Ten Years Later
“Professor Costello?”
“Yes?”
“I was just wondering if you’ve had the time to review my essay yet.”
I glanced up from my podium at the front of the lecture hall in Waverly’s Arts and Humanities building. As usual, the students had filed out as quickly as possible as soon as I’d dismissed them, and as usual, one particular student—a stout brunette with inquisitive eyes—stayed behind to speak with me.
“I told you after Monday’s class, Phoebe,” I reminded her. “I won’t have a chance to grade the midterm papers for another week or so.”
She lowered her gaze, looking put out.
“I’m sure yours is excellent,” I said. “You’ve yet to disappoint me.”
“All right. I’ll see you next class.”
“Have a good weekend.”
As Phoebe let herself out, Lauren let out a low groan from where she sat in the corner of the classroom, her feet propped up on the desk in front of her. “Sheesh,” she said. “I was never that needy as an undergrad. By the way, why are all the students in love with you? You assign too many readings. I would hate you if I were your student. In fact, I do hate you. After all, it’s me who ends up grading all of their damn papers.”
I collected my notes from that day’s lectures, walked over to Lauren, and kicked her feet off of the desk. “You know, as a graduate teaching assistant and a PhD student, you should really work on your lack of professionalism,” I told her. “No one’s going to hire you with that attitude.”
She rolled her eyes as we made our way out of the lecture hall. “Have you forgotten what my last name is? I’m a shoo-in for a job here.”
“Yes, but you need faculty recommendations,” I countered, nudging her playfully with my briefcase. “And you certainly won’t get mine.”
“Fine, I’ll just ask Olivia to get me in with the FBI.”
I chuckled. “How is Olivia?”
“No idea,” said Lauren. Together, we made our way up the staircase toward the upper levels of the building, heading for my office. “She’s working on something top-secret for Henry, so I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks.”
“She’ll call. Have you made any progress on your dissertation?”
Lauren waved her hand dismissively. “It’s finished. I have something else in the works. I want to create an honor society before I graduate.”
I raised an eyebrow. “An honor society.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “Not like the Raptors. I want to make something legitimate to promote women in research fields. We could offer scholarships and internships. It would be everything the Black Raptor Society was meant to be, only legal. What do you think?”
“I think you should do it.”
“Really?”
“Lauren, if anyone creates something like that for Waverly, it should be you.”
We reached the third floor of the building, where the lush maroon carpet, freshly installed from a recent renovation, blanketed the sound of our heavy footfalls. As we approached my
