He tensed up. “All except Gretchen failed. She did a lovely profile on the mayor’s wife. There was no reason to fail her, none at all. No private agenda. It was factual, straightforward, and well written. Delightful. I’ll have you know that last year, none of the women whom I advised for their master’s theses passed. So you see, there’s been an improvement, Mrs. Lyons.”
She didn’t bother to hide her incredulity. “Have the men been allowed to express their opinions in their writing?”
He paused. “It’s different for them because their topics are more complicated. Politics, wars, economics.”
“So they’ve been allowed to editorialize?” She waited. “Keep in mind, the master’s theses are on file in the library, so I can see for myself.”
He lowered his eyes, staring down at the sheaf of papers in front of her. “Some do, yes. But it’s not the same.”
“How?”
He sputtered, then fell silent.
“You must change my grade, then.”
“I see your point, I do.” He shook his head. “It’s too late to change the grade, though. It’s been entered with the registrar.”
“Then my first article out of school will be on the sex discrimination rampant at the Columbia Journalism School.” She snatched her thesis off the desk.
“Rampant? No need for hyperbole, there’s no need for that, Mrs. Lyons.” He touched his desk where the thesis had been, his fingertips splayed like spider legs. “I’m sorry, I can’t change it. But I do appreciate you bringing this to my attention. I will certainly keep it in mind for next year. Will that do?”
With that, she swept out the door, slamming it shut behind her.
* * *
Without classes to attend, without a goal to achieve, Laura would be back to square one. Reading to the children at night, cooking meals, ironing and mending clothes. It was all she could do not to burst into tears when Jack opened his office door to her.
“Darling, how grand to see you.” He closed the door behind her and gestured to the chair. She’d hoped he would take her into his arms, but he seemed unaware of her distress.
“I have great news.” He took his seat behind the desk and finally looked up at her. “What is it? Is something wrong, the children?” He half rose from his chair, but she motioned him to sit.
“No, they’re fine. It’s me. I failed my master’s thesis. Professor Wakeman failed me.”
“What? I read it, and it was wonderful.”
“He’s known to be tough—last year he failed a top student for a mere spelling error. School of hard knocks and all that, I suppose. He liked everything except the very end.”
“I loved the way you summarized it. He’s bonkers.”
“I changed it before handing it in. I added in my own opinions and thoughts. He didn’t approve.”
Jack frowned. “What made you do that?”
She wanted to scream. “Because I had them,” she cried. “Because I felt they mattered.”
“Of course, that makes sense.” He rose and came to her, leaning down to give her a hug, as if it might erase his stupid question.
She accepted the embrace but pulled away first. “What’s your good news, then? We sure could use it.”
“The agent loved my manuscript.” He reached into a drawer and pulled it out, placing it on top of his desk. “There are some changes to be made, of course. But I agree with them all, they’re going to make it even better.”
“That’s terrific. I’m so proud of you. What’s the next step?”
“I edit the book, then turn it back in. He’s given me a couple of months. It’ll be tight, but I think I can manage. After that, he’ll send it out to publishers. He said he’s already mentioned it to several and they’re all excited to see it. ‘A bidding war’ is what he said to me. ‘They’ll get into a bidding war for your book.’”
He was like a child on Christmas Eve, beaming and giddy, and his excitement was infectious. She reached her arm across the desk and took his hand. “Well done, my dear. You’re going to be a literary sensation, of that I have no doubt.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Laura-love. Don’t you worry, we’ll find something interesting for you to do, something other than that journalism school.”
The black cloud settled back over her. “Like what? I even sold my mother’s engagement ring, and now it’s all for nothing. What have I done?”
“Don’t fret, the book advance will make it easy to pay her back. She can buy a new one.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, I have an idea. What about if you type up my edits for me?”
Her heart sank. “No, thank you. I don’t want to be your assistant or your secretary. I want to write on my own, do something on my own.”
“Don’t get upset, it was just a thought.”
That he would voice that thought out loud disturbed her to no end. He didn’t seem to understand, after all this time, that she wanted a passion like he had. She would never have imagined asking him, if the agent had taken a pass, if he would like to type up her master’s thesis for her instead. As if that might make him feel useful. It would never have crossed her mind.
She excused herself and went up to the apartment, where her mother and Pearl were sitting at the kitchen table, sewing clothes for Pearl’s doll.
“What are you doing home so early?” asked her mother.
“I failed. It’s over. Where’s Harry?”
“What?” Her mother rose and held out her arms, but Laura waved her away; she didn’t want to cry in front of Pearl. “Harry’s off with friends. You had your master’s thesis review today, right?”
“I did. The professor failed me, for a senseless reason. We got into an argument about it, and to be honest, I think I won. But it doesn’t matter, it’s too late for him to change it.” She sat at the table, next to Pearl. “I’m sorry, Mother, but we will find a way to make it up to you. Jack got good news about the book, and in a couple of months things will be brighter.”
“For him. What about for you?”
“Why did they fail you?” Pearl asked. She sat very still.
Her concern took Laura out of herself, finally. She put an arm over her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her close, placing her forehead against Pearl’s. “I took a risk and it didn’t work out. It was a foolish mistake.”