the girls laughed a little too hard and clutched their books against their boobs in a way that made little Ainsley inexplicably angry, but her father just smiled kindly at them and treated all of them the same.
It wasn’t until she was older that she realized he was one of the most distinguished Russian Lit professors in the country. Important contemporary Russian novelists would visit the school, hoping to gain his favor. Her father’s opinion of them, whether he chose to publish about them, or even just add them to the syllabus, meant something.
A brief squeal of feedback from the mic jolted Ainsley back to the present as Carol Lotus from the Russian Lit department stepped forward.
“Welcome to our talk on War and Peace with visiting professor Julian Magie,” Carol said in her quavery voice. “Dr. Magie has just published a new look at this classic, entitled A Sleight of Hand: The Magic of Tolstoy . He is here today to share his thoughts on an old favorite.”
Julian stepped forward with a half smile.
“Who here has read the book?” he asked sternly.
There was a pause and a rustling as most of them raised their hands.
“I see,” he nodded. “And who has read it in the last twenty years.”
Ainsley glanced around. All the hands went down except hers and Carol’s.
Julian smiled. “Then let’s begin by remembering the story. And all those names .”
Everyone laughed. Julian began slowly re-telling the familiar story. Counts and Princesses, Rostovs and Bezuhovs and Bolskonskys wooed and wed and fought and schemed. They made assumptions and learned better, saw opportunities arise and failed to seize the day, and finally things came together for the worthy. Mostly.
Ainsley enjoyed his interpretation. It was meant as a summary, but in what he shared and what he left out, she felt that she learned a lot about Julian. And she liked what she learned. He had a dark way about him, with his half smile. But Julian focused on the battle of Good and Evil, the effect every day people have on history, and the importance of family in his run-through.
Ainsley began to daydream, just a little. Her eyes went to his thin lips and the smooth line of his jaw. He looked like a prince himself. His clear blue eyes caught hers.
Busted.
“Miss Connor.” His smile was disarming.
“Um, yes?”
“You looked like you wanted to make a point about Count Bezuhov and the peasants?”
Oh dear. She wasn’t going to let him embarrass her. But she was damned if she could think of anything quickly with him leaning back against the podium in that sexy way.
“You know, Dr. Magie,” she said, “I was just thinking maybe Count Bezuhov and the peasants are similar to the problem of modern gender equality and family dynamics.”
She pulled that out of nowhere. Hopefully, there were no follow up questions.
He raised an eyebrow. “Continue.”
Shit.
“Well, Pierre built schools for the peasant children and they learned to read and write. Then they had to go back and work on the farms. Pierre expected them to be grateful for the beautiful schools, but they were angry with him instead. This was because knowing how to read and write was of no use to them on the farms and simply made them dissatisfied with their lives.”
Ainsley paused. She had forgotten how much she loved a good book debate. Julian nodded.
“Two hundred years later, women go to school. They spend years studying and pursuing careers And then most women go on to get married. Women from families who can afford to do so, often stay home for a few years with small children. When they are ready to return to the workplace, there aren’t opportunities commensurate with their level of education – those opportunities go to younger workers. They are then faced with being under employed or continuing on in the role their great-grandmothers had - homemakers. Which begs the question – why all that education?”
You could hear a pin drop. Ainsley knew her theory had about
It wasn’t until she was older that she realized he was one of the most distinguished Russian Lit professors in the country. Important contemporary Russian novelists would visit the school, hoping to gain his favor. Her father’s opinion of them, whether he chose to publish about them, or even just add them to the syllabus, meant something.
A brief squeal of feedback from the mic jolted Ainsley back to the present as Carol Lotus from the Russian Lit department stepped forward.
“Welcome to our talk on War and Peace with visiting professor Julian Magie,” Carol said in her quavery voice. “Dr. Magie has just published a new look at this classic, entitled A Sleight of Hand: The Magic of Tolstoy . He is here today to share his thoughts on an old favorite.”
Julian stepped forward with a half smile.
“Who here has read the book?” he asked sternly.
There was a pause and a rustling as most of them raised their hands.
“I see,” he nodded. “And who has read it in the last twenty years.”
Ainsley glanced around. All the hands went down except hers and Carol’s.
Julian smiled. “Then let’s begin by remembering the story. And all those names .”
Everyone laughed. Julian began slowly re-telling the familiar story. Counts and Princesses, Rostovs and Bezuhovs and Bolskonskys wooed and wed and fought and schemed. They made assumptions and learned better, saw opportunities arise and failed to seize the day, and finally things came together for the worthy. Mostly.
Ainsley enjoyed his interpretation. It was meant as a summary, but in what he shared and what he left out, she felt that she learned a lot about Julian. And she liked what she learned. He had a dark way about him, with his half smile. But Julian focused on the battle of Good and Evil, the effect every day people have on history, and the importance of family in his run-through.
Ainsley began to daydream, just a little. Her eyes went to his thin lips and the smooth line of his jaw. He looked like a prince himself. His clear blue eyes caught hers.
Busted.
“Miss Connor.” His smile was disarming.
“Um, yes?”
“You looked like you wanted to make a point about Count Bezuhov and the peasants?”
Oh dear. She wasn’t going to let him embarrass her. But she was damned if she could think of anything quickly with him leaning back against the podium in that sexy way.
“You know, Dr. Magie,” she said, “I was just thinking maybe Count Bezuhov and the peasants are similar to the problem of modern gender equality and family dynamics.”
She pulled that out of nowhere. Hopefully, there were no follow up questions.
He raised an eyebrow. “Continue.”
Shit.
“Well, Pierre built schools for the peasant children and they learned to read and write. Then they had to go back and work on the farms. Pierre expected them to be grateful for the beautiful schools, but they were angry with him instead. This was because knowing how to read and write was of no use to them on the farms and simply made them dissatisfied with their lives.”
Ainsley paused. She had forgotten how much she loved a good book debate. Julian nodded.
“Two hundred years later, women go to school. They spend years studying and pursuing careers And then most women go on to get married. Women from families who can afford to do so, often stay home for a few years with small children. When they are ready to return to the workplace, there aren’t opportunities commensurate with their level of education – those opportunities go to younger workers. They are then faced with being under employed or continuing on in the role their great-grandmothers had - homemakers. Which begs the question – why all that education?”
You could hear a pin drop. Ainsley knew her theory had about
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