Luckily, Alexander was inside. She entered at his word and sat on the chair opposite where he stood at his desk, sleeves rolled up and pouring over files.
Her heart was still pounding from her jaunt back and forth across the Quad, but she forced her voice to be steady. “I just went to see Dr. Berking.”
He looked up quickly, concern sharpening his eyes as he looked her over. “What happened?”
Saffron still felt dazed, like the last ten minutes had been a bizarre dream. Running her own study was a dream, but being indebted to Berking would be a nightmare. “He offered me my study.”
“Your study? Which one?”
“I proposed a project when he, you know, bothered me, and he hadn’t said anything about it, and I never thought he would agree to let me do it—not after what happened. It’s regarding the pigmentation of different kinds of tropical plants. He mentioned it at the meeting, but not very accurately. I think he said it like that to bother Dr. Henry. Didn’t you notice how he got all stiff and annoyed when Berking was speaking? It’s because some of the specimens are rather poisonous, and I wanted to determine what differences there were in pigmentation since Dr. Maxwell will already be working on chlorophyll. Except that now Berking says his study is off.” Saffron realized she was rambling. “Anyway, he said I could do it if I could get it ready in time.”
Alexander frowned, leaning his knuckles against the surface of his desk. “Dr. Maxwell’s project is scrapped, and yours is going forward?”
“It seems so,” Saffron said, a little hurt at his complete lack of enthusiasm. Was he angry that hours of research had been wasted? “I know you’ve already done so much work for Maxwell’s study, but I’ll be able to do most of the work myself, so you won’t have to—”
“I’m not concerned about the work,” he said impatiently. “I’m curious why he’s allowing you to do it now, just before we’re leaving. And why is he giving you your project rather than one of the professors or researchers?”
“Well, it was a rather good proposal,” Saffron muttered, put out at his inference.
“What did he say you have to do?”
Her stomach dropped at the prospect of being in that office with Berking again. “He said I have to finish my proposal and discuss it with him tomorrow to finalize it.”
“You have to go speak with him?”
“Yes,” Saffron said slowly.
“In his office?”
Saffron nodded, excitement replaced entirely by anxiety.
Alexander crossed his arms. “Don’t you think he’ll use this situation to his advantage? You’re going to him for approval for a project you shouldn’t even get the chance to do—”
“Shouldn’t get the chance to do?” Saffron repeated, her voice rising. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Alexander grimaced. “That isn’t what I meant. I mean that there is a reason he’s offering it to you and not to an actual researcher with more experience. You’re just an assistant.”
Even if she knew what he was saying was true, that he would say it hurt more than she would have thought. “Maybe it’s because my design was good. Maybe it’s because—”
“Maxwell is now gone and Berking knows you badly want to get ahead in the department? He’s already targeted you once.”
“I don’t have a choice!” She was on her feet in an instant, unable to sit still with the roiling anxiety in her stomach. Saffron hated that she knew how right he was. But even though she knew Berking was scum and might have a mind to repeat his prior actions, how could she say no to the possibility of her own study, one that might possibly be published? This might be her only chance. If she said no, she doubted the offer would be repeated.
“Of course you have a choice,” Alexander said, his voice more gentle. “I don’t understand—”
Saffron blinked away furious tears. “You clearly don’t understand, Alexander. You’ve no idea what it’s like to come in here every day and feel inadequate, to feel like an imposter. You don’t know what I gave up to study here, let alone work here. You came to the university and found your place and thrived. You have no concept of the daily struggle that I have just to be here.”
Alexander’s face turned stony, though his eyes burned hotter. He just stared at her, jaw clenched.
“Thank you for your concern,” Saffron said stiffly, looking away, “but I’m quite sure I have it under control. May I use your typewriter? I need to prepare the meeting notes for Dr. Henry, and I’ve lost the keys to Dr. Maxwell’s office.”