Kenneth engaged in a quiet squeezing competition during their handshake, and lost. “Interesting,” he said, pulling away. “Working with children? How admirable.”

Admirable. When Victoria had said the same word to describe his story hour, John had felt pride in his work. When this man uttered the term, snide disdain hung in the air like a dark cloud.

“Dr. Williams is the English Department’s Shakespeare scholar,” Victoria said to John. “And the Chair.”

“Mmh.” John didn’t care for the man. Kenneth reminded him of an old professor in his graduate studies who balked when John admitted that he’d never read Macbeth. For ten straight minutes, Professor Whitlock had lectured him about how “woefully” unprepared he was for his Literary Criticism course. John had sat there, amongst his peers, stone-faced and waiting for the rant to end. He had very nearly dropped the course, but that would have given Dr. Whitlock too much satisfaction.

“And John does wonderful work with children’s literacy,” Victoria added in a bright voice.

Kenneth Williams echoed the same terse “Mmh,” before adding, “And what are you two working on?”

“Dr. Reese and I are teaming up to create an internship for your students,” John said in a business-like tone. “We’re just nailing down the details over lunch.” Judging by Victoria’s tense demeanor, mentioning their lunch date would be a terrible idea.

Williams looked to Victoria and arched a white brow. “Is this for your Four-Week Initiative?”

Victoria gave a rigid smile. “It is.”

“As I pointed out during our last meeting, we don’t even have a Library Sciences program at Pembroke, Ms. Reese.” The old man’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “Our students go on to pursue actual literary careers.”

John cleared his throat and bridled the irritation in his voice. “Victoria, I thought you were a doctor,” he said, staring directly at Kenneth. “Our friend keeps referring to you as Ms. Reese.”

Kenneth appeared positively apoplectic by John’s intrusion, his red-mottled face pulled tight with a perturbed expression. Had he expected John to just stand there and let him talk to his lady that way? The old professor suffered from an elitist outlook on the world. That’s where guys like John came in. He was there to gently remind folks like Ken that no was a sentence.

“Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Donovan,” Victoria said in a calm voice.

“My apologies, Victoria,” Kenneth ground out through a clenched jaw.

“Also,” John added, suddenly feeling himself. “Are you saying libraries don’t aid in a student’s actual literary career?”

“With all due respect.” Williams sighed wearily, as if John’s contribution to the conversation were a pesky interference. “While a degree in Library Science is practical, and sometimes even necessary, the vast majority of Pembroke’s English students tend to be accepted in more prestigious graduate programs.”

Oh really? John clenched his fists. “With all due respect—”