Woman of Substance (3 page)

“I’m glad,” Robbie replied and concentrated her attention toward the list of teas available until her eyes cleared of the momentary tears. “I’ll have the chocolate mint oolong.” She passed the menu to the matronly woman hovering at her elbow.

After the server left, Mavis brought a shopping bag from under the table. “We pooled our resources and brought this for you.”

“Don’t go all misty-eyed on us. We’re a team,” Sharon cautioned as she passed Robbie a serviette.

Margaret reached over and patted Robbie’s hand. “This is temporary. We want all of the items back.”

“Okay then.” Robbie put the gift bag on the floor and parted the tissue paper. She lifted a teal blouse. “This was Erin’s favorite color. Thank you.”

She removed the next item and said, “I remember your amethyst ring, Margaret, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You’ll need something to balance your hands.”

Peeking at the last item in the gift bag, Robbie said, “I can guess who lent me the slacks. Thank you, Mavis.”

“We’re about the same height, and there’s an elastic waistband so it will sit comfortably.”

“Reach down deep. There’s something else.”

Robbie reached into the bag beneath the pants and drew out an animal print scarf.

“Got to get your sexy on, as Erin used to say.” Margaret blushed.

Emotion threatened to clog in her throat, so she shot to her feet and hugged each woman in turn.

“Thank you. Now all I have to do is get out there and research without embarrassing any of you or giving Professor Clifton any reason to pull the plug on my thesis.”

“She wouldn’t, would she?” Sharon thumped the table.

“She could, but not if I conduct my research with all of the sensitivity you’ve taught me.”

Robbie dribbled the last of her tea from her pot, raised her teacup, and saluted. “To success.”

The other three women clinked cups. “Success.”

The hot air furnace billowed the white lace window curtains. The cedar potpourri filled the air. Robbie lifted the torso from her bed.
I will be successful. I will.
She wiped the inside of the body cavity with a special cleaner to kill body odor germs. It felt as if the brainstorming, wig purchase, contact fittings, and glasses happened yesterday, but the transformation had taken two very full and busy weeks. So if Sherlock Holmes Jake didn’t report her to the care home security, she could continue her research, which Margaret, Sharon, and Mavis dubbed ‘FLM’.

She hung the torso and leggings in the closet, then flipped a pair of jeans from the hanger and chose a T-shirt from the drawer. She had thirty minutes to shower, change, and drive to the university for her conference with Dr. Clifton, her thesis advisor.

If only she had a sympathetic advisor who would accept her need to research disguised as Robin Smyth, but Critical Clifton was suspicious of any anecdotal and field research.

After her shower, Robbie dressed in her jeans and periwinkle blue fleece jacket, applied lip gloss, and tipped her lashes with mascara.
Get a move on or Clifton will be tapping her red pen all over my papers.
This professor hated to be kept waiting.

Robbie slung her backpack over one shoulder, twisted her key in the deadbolt, pressed the button on the remote opening the garage door, jumped in her Ford Focus and backed out of the garage. The traffic was sparse around University Park Drive, and Mavis’s karma was on her side when every traffic light was green. She waited for another student to reverse out of a parking spot close to the building. Robbie swung her backpack onto her shoulder and marched toward the Humanities offices.

Even though the sun streamed into Frank’s window, Jake tucked a blanket around his grandfather’s shoulders. In the corner was the brown corduroy recliner that had been in their family living room for as long as Jake could remember. On the bulletin board was a collage of family photos. Pictures of Jake bent over a birthday cake blowing out various numbers of flames on candles and his grandma always beaming with pride. Jake tearing Christmas wrap off of a parcel. Jake leaning into his grandmother’s shoulder while watching TV on the cabbage-rose upholstered sofa. Jake dressed in his graduation gown holding onto his degree. Jake posed with the elders of the !Kung San people in the Kalahari Desert. Fastened in the corner of the frame, Jake wrapped in a blanket in his mother’s arms. He peered closely at his mother’s photo. He had her brown eyes and dark complexion. She had died before he had taken his first steps and the man, not a father but the sperm donor, either didn’t know or didn’t care. Jake’s grandparents were the only parents he knew.

On the bedside table was a photograph of his grandparents with their arms around each other. He knew they were proud of his education and career, but his grandmother had wanted to see him settled into family life before she died two years ago. He had disappointed her.

He took one last look at Frank’s closed eyes, walked down the corridor and out of Care Manor past the smokers sitting around the ashtray in front of the building. The air stung his nostrils as he breathed. The frozen pavement had occasional patches of frost when he crossed the street to his vintage Mustang convertible. It had been his mother’s before she died and this car was his only tangible evidence of his childhood and teenage years. As soon as he grasped the door handle, his hand tingled, just like it used to when his grandfather drove the car out of the garage. Washing off the accumulated dust and rubbing cloths slick with turtle wax along the paint until he could comb his hair in the mirrored hood had made him feel he was a part of his mother. He remembered sitting in the dark garage just listening to the radio. After he passed his driving course he had cruised down the city streets with his favorite girl, Noelle. For a second or two, he was a kid again, instead a professor of anthropology and a researcher.

As he sat on the leather seat, he cringed at the sudden turn his life had taken. After five years of an exemplary career, his funding records were being scrutinized. He should be in Ottawa protecting his reputation, but Frank’s doctor had been blunt. If Jake wanted to spend quality time with his grandfather, he had better return home now.

Even though his grandfather was dying, he still had the power to make Jake feel a childish guilt. Granddad had chewed him out about how he’d treated the strange-looking woman in the park. His ears still rang with Frank’s voice. “You find her and apologize. You were rude and assumed too much. You know what they say about assume.”

“Granddad, I know that old joke.”

“It’s not a joke son. It does make an a-s-s out of u and me. So you go and make it right.”

Too bad. Jake wasn’t wasting his energy worrying about her feelings. He had enough happening in his own life right now. If Granddad ever heard about the investigation into Jake’s grant funds, he’d be mad as a snake poked at by a stick. No one should accuse his boy of being a thief. His grandfather would use every tiny bit of strength and time he had left in him to clear Jake’s name. In fact, his grandfather would be phoning his old friend, Judge Simmons, right now, demanding action. Jake would detest explaining to his Granddad although he appreciated his assistance, he had very good lawyer in Toronto. His chest tightened. What could have happened to the missing fifteen thousand dollars?

Chapter 2

The cluster of the University of Regina’s gray stone buildings contained her hallowed halls of learning. At the next convocation ceremony, Robbie would step onto the stage and accept her Master’s degree, leaving the security of the university behind. Her parents had the invitations for a celebration party ready to print off at a moment’s notice.

Even though the temperature had dipped to 30
o
F, the sky was clear and sunny. Saskatchewan’s new slogan, ‘Land of the Living Sky’ was an apt description as a flock of Canada Geese honked loudly and sliced their way through a blue sky. When she opened the door to the university building, men and women were thumping lockers closed and bundling books into backpacks for their next class or the end of their day. Robbie climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Nadine, the Women’s Studies office administrator, was on the telephone, but acknowledged Robbie’s presence with a wave. The office showed small signs of Nadine’s flare for fashion. The orange toss cushions brought a touch of color to the otherwise institutional misty green walls. In the office, Robbie paced the worn carpet, tracing the very same path of many graduate students before her.

After Nadine hung up the phone, she straightened her amber glass-bead necklace where it shimmered against her skin. Her brown styled hair appeared casual but Robbie knew Nadine set her alarm for an extra thirty minutes so that she could achieve these soft curls that flowed around her face. “So how’d it go this morning, Robbie?” she asked.

Robbie stopped. “You didn’t tell Clifton, did you?”

Nadine shook her head. “No way.”

“You want the whole truth, I suppose.”

“Of course.” Nadine turned her chair to give Robbie her full attention.

“It was quite a work-out. Carrying the extra overall weight is different from lifting weights. Even though the suit makes me appear to be over two hundred pounds it only weighs about twenty extra pounds.” Robbie shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’d be interested in seeing you in your body suit one day.”

“Absolutely. I’ll drop by as part of my research, if it doesn’t get scuttled by—” Robbie tipped her head toward the closed office door.

“Take a deep breath, and sit down,” Nadine said.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not going into the lioness’ den.”

Laughter filtered from the door. Robbie raised her eyebrows.

“An old friend’s catching up. He could make things very interesting around here,” Nadine said.

“Sounds intriguing. Just the details, please.”

The telephone rang and Nadine was busy again, answering the caller’s questions with the knowledge garnered from years of experience.

Robbie sat on a chair and retrieved her notebook and pen from her backpack. She reviewed statistics about smoking and obesity so she would be ready for anything her professor might ask.

A deep voice chuckled as the door opened. Robbie lifted her notebook just high enough and she saw Dr. Clifton’s red pumps followed by a pair of highly polished black loafers that shortened a natural stride over to Nadine’s desk.

With their backs to her, Robbie put down her pen and glanced at the black leather jacket and dark blond hair curling on the collar of the man who shook Nadine’s hand and caused her boss to be breathless and all a twitter. When he turned slightly, Robbie saw his profile; five o’clock shadow, relaxed brow, and one deep-set brown eye. Robbie hid her face behind her notebook and sat still.

Professor Clifton, flicking her white-blond hair from her angular face, said, “Dr. Proctor’s taking over Janet’s office and seminars while she’s on her emergency maternity leave. Nadine, I know you’ll give him all the help he needs.”

“Of course.” Nadine leaned forward and nodded.

Robbie’s heart sank. He was the same Jake Proctor whom she’d met in the park earlier today. She couldn’t afford having him ask her why she was dressed in a costume this morning. He could ruin her research. Dr. Clifton had so many reservations even miniscule criticism would ruin her chance to continue with the FLM project.

Dr. Clifton looked up at Jake and smiled. “Both Nadine and I are only a phone call away. It’ll be great having you around again. Come with me. The office you’ll be using is right next door.”

“I don’t want to delay you. You must have appointments,” he said.

OMG, he respects students. He can’t be all bad.
Robbie slid further into the chair.

“No trouble, Robbie can wait,” Dr. Clifton said while the door leading into the hallway closed behind her.

“Wow,” Nadine said, “Dr. Clifton is gleaming.”

“She sure is,” Robbie whispered across the room.

“She usually keeps her personal feelings locked up. But he’s a bright light in this office. His tan really sets off his brown eyes.” Nadine’s laughter bubbled. “I told you it would be interesting around here.”

The telephone rang again.

Maybe he was only visiting. No, Clifton said he had an office. Surely she was talking about next semester. Robbie’s thesis would be defended by then. Until she knew more, she’d be careful and make sure Jake Proctor wasn’t around when she went to the park in her disguise.

While she waited, she tried focusing on her possible responses to Dr. Clifton’s questions, but Nadine’s fingernails clicking on the keyboard seemingly in rhythm to a song on the radio combined with Dr. Clifton’s laughter echoing in the hall kept disrupting her concentration.
Focus, focus. Robbie, you have to focus.

Nadine’s keyboarding stopped. She put her chin in her palm and said, “I sure hope he has a lot of questions tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. You’re kidding, right?” Robbie groaned.

“What’s with you? A new face is always a pleasure, especially one with that rugged shadow. Yum.” Nadine winked. Her white teeth contrasted against her coffee-toned lip gloss.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just surprised. Do you suppose he shaves like that or does his beard really grow that quickly?”

“I don’t care, just so long as I see it often,” Nadine said, plucking the phone from its cradle.

Until Robbie came up with a better solution, she would fly under his radar at the university, too.

The outer door swung open. Dr. Clifton leaned on Nadine’s desk. “Jake will check in tomorrow. If there’s anything he needs, I’ve told him I’m available.” From behind her notebook, Robbie watched Dr. Clifton scan the room. “You can come in now.”

Robbie closed her notebook and picked up her backpack. She knew Clifton’s previous laughter wasn’t going to change her professor’s attitude toward their interview.

In the office, Clifton sat in her chair rolled up to the desk, which held an aquarium with a bright blue-patterned Betta fish and a box of tissue ready for any tearful, stressed student. Robbie felt as if a starting-pistol fired when her advisor picked up the top file from a stack of a half dozen, then opened the buff folder.

From her guest chair, Robbie saw red pen scrawls in the margins of her thesis manuscript. If only she could read upside down. At any rate, the signs weren’t promising. Just a week earlier, Robbie had endured a mini-lecture from her professor about her need for attention undermining her academic credibility, or so the professor said. Robbie was running the risk of misappropriating the identity of heavy women and could, therefore, jeopardize the respect that Clifton had built for the department. And now she suspected the lecture continued.

“If you insist on parading around in this so-called get-up you’ve described here, you could end up in trouble,” Dr. Clifton said. “Big trouble.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“We’ve had students expelled from programs or, at the very least, given a conditional pass with major revisions. Are you prepared for those consequences?”

Robbie pressed her spine against the contoured back of the chair and counted to ten before answering. She had spent eight months listening to women, and she was not going to be thrown off track now. Many had urged Robbie to learn more about the issues facing women who were large.

“This has nothing to do with getting attention,” Robbie said. “The women in my group want me to walk a mile in their shoes.”

“Cliché.”

“Historically, women padded and corseted themselves to conform to the ideal shape of their time. I’m changing my body to experience what society suggests is a disgrace when a woman can’t control her body size.” Robbie pressed her notes onto her knees to quiet the rustling of papers caused by her trembling hands.

Clifton’s nostrils flared. “I can’t order you not to do this, but if my department receives any negative publicity, I’ll recommend a failing grade.”

Robbie ran her fingers through short her hair. “A total failure seems drastic if my other research is credible.”

Clifton removed her reading glasses. “Exactly. There is a danger you’ll identify too closely with these women, and you won’t be able to maintain your research role. So why chance it?”

Robbie pressed her fingers to her temple, closed her eyes, and bit her lip to keep from saying,
these women who are now my friends encouraged me to experience their lives.

A melody piped from under the desk. Robbie’s shoulders slumped and her breaths came from her diaphragm and filled her chest. The technological interruption halted the crowded thoughts from tumbling unchecked from her lips.

Clifton checked the caller ID on her cell phone. “I have to take this.”

Robbie’s stomach rumbled. The veins in Clifton’s temples popped while she commanded someone to send a repairperson tonight for her state-of-the-art treadmill still under warranty, or she would never deal with their company again.

After several tension-filled moments, Clifton swiveled her chair back. “Nothing lives up to the advertised specifications.”

Robbie recalled her mother’s advice and searched for the milk of human kindness. “I’d be willing to run on the track with you until your machine is repaired.”

“I don’t think so. I’m training for a half-marathon with other faculty members.”

Someone should give this woman an attitude adjustment, but it wouldn’t be her. She focused on her professor’s red-rimmed glasses. “I’ve got a month until my deadline. I’ve completed your suggested revisions, and I can see you have made further suggestions in the margins. If you’ll pass me those, I’ll continue revising the manuscript while preparing for my defense.”

Dr. Clifton flapped the pages toward Robbie and snapped the file closed. “It’s your degree.”

“Thank you. I’ll do these corrections and make another appointment.”

Dr. Clifton turned her chair and reached for another file. As Robbie’s fingers held onto the door handle, she forced her muscles to relax as she silently closed the door. But how she wanted to slam it. With her eyes closed against the fluorescent light, she leaned against the opposite wall. Nadine finished her telephone conversation and looked at her expectantly. The university radio station continued to play softly in the background.

Robbie stepped away from the wall, then slipped her backpack onto her shoulders. During the short walk to Nadine’s desk, she felt as if her shoes were caked with gumbo. “Behind every department chair is a saint. And you’ve got to be it.”

Nadine nodded. “It doesn’t take a saint to work for the best. It takes someone with great skill.”

“I asked for her to be my advisor because I know she’s the best in the department. But I think she’s wrong about my disguise,” Robbie said.

“It’s your thesis, your life.”

“You know her very well. She said almost the same words. Right now I’m having trouble lifting my feet to walk out of here. I’m scared.”

Nadine passed her the student-sustaining box of chocolates. “You choose, soft or hard.”

While she studied the diagram of the selections, her hand lingered over a chocolate-covered cherry, her favorite pampering candy. Finally, she peeled the blue foil off a chocolate-covered hazelnut and popped the treat into her mouth.

She leaned into Nadine’s space. “Work with me on this. Come shopping tomorrow.”

Nadine stood up and ran her hands over her cashmere sweater and down the black wool skirt. Her brown eyes sparkled and she fluttered her long eyelashes, “Ah, so you want to be a successful stylish woman like me.”

“You said it.”

“Afraid not. Can’t go against the doc on this one. It’s risky.”

The intercom buzzed.

“Okay then. At least tell me where to shop.” Robbie kept her gaze fixed on the door. She didn’t want to see Clifton again this afternoon.

“The Better Half at the Northgate Mall has a great selection.” Nadine gathered her steno pad and strode toward the professor’s office. “Hey, if you’re up for a good time, join my friends and me. We’ll go dancing, and you’ll see women with all kinds of curves out having fun and not sitting alone on a Friday.”

“Can I wear my disguise?”

“Only if you’re sure you’re in shape to dance all night.” Nadine shrugged her shoulders and did a little hip roll before opening Professor Clifton’s office door.

Robbie couldn’t help but smile as she stepped into the student hustle and bustle and closed the door behind her.

In the corridor, students were pushing toward their next class, while she untangled her MP3 player ear buds. Her progress was stopped short when her nose smashed up against a black leather jacket. Two hands gripped her shoulders and held her steady. Their warmth seeped through her fleece jacket. She blinked rapidly to clear tears caused from the pain of her crushed nose.

Brown eyes leveled an all-encompassing gaze on her face.

Oh no, here it comes. He’s going to recognize me from this morning. I’m supposed to stay out of his way, not plow into him, then stand and stare at whiskers on his chin.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She wriggled her nose. “It’s bruised but not broken.”

Jake Proctor studied her for a minute before nodding. “I’m glad. A nose is a necessary thing.”

She felt, rather than saw students, rush past them. He set her away from him and pressed a folded tissue into her palm.