Apparently, Victoria had misread the room. She was convinced that no one would aid in talking Williams down. Apparently, Kenneth’s small-scale megalomania rubbed people the wrong way, even outside their department. She sprung on the chance for a possible mutiny. “That’s certainly a possibility, Marcus. At the very least, we can send students to Farmingdale Public Library to help patrons with job applications, resumés, or adult learning.”

Marcus nodded and continued writing notes. “Exactly.”

Williams peered at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ms. Reese.”

“I don’t believe the university is opposed to expanding programs to accommodate increased enrollment,” Victoria said.

“But before we create make-believe programs out of thin air, let’s consider how this internship benefits some faculty members over others. Kiddie Lit will see an increase of warm bodies in their classes.”

“Just three quick things, Kenneth.” She fought to keep her voice calm. “First, it’s called Children’s Literature. Second, the warm bodies you’re talking about are our students. They need a fighting chance to find employment in their struggling fields. Lastly, any additional opportunities to the department are a benefit to all faculty.”

“If I can’t get institutional support for a Globe Theater trip from that stingy new president, I don’t know how she can support all of these new ideas. Sure, back in the day, Bob would have signed off on anything, but we’re not there anymore.”

Victoria sighed and buried her head in her hands. Didn’t he understand that the school was currently in a pickle because the former president, Bob Sheldon, had signed off on everything? “Kenneth, you’re completely missing the point. A pilgrimage to England would have been a financial burden to the handful of students who could sign up. This”—she pointed to her proposal—“wouldn’t cost them anything. In fact, it’s practical work experience that will prepare them for the future.”

“I’m sorry that I’m not concerned enough about practical work experience, as you put it,” Williams said in an irritated voice. “I’m more concerned about programs dragging the prestige of Pembroke University to the level of a...community college, Ms. Reese.”

Victoria sat stiffly in her chair. There it was: classism at its finest. These were the obtuse situations she spent so much time preparing herself for; old men who demanded she justify her existence in their hallowed institutions. “You’ve called me Ms. Reese three times so far,” she said through a clenched jaw. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that I have the same qualifications as you do, but here we are. It’s Dr. Reese or Victoria.”

The silence that settled over the room was thick. Only a nervous cough from Marcus broke the tension long enough for Williams to give a thin-lipped smile. “I didn’t think pedigree was important to anyone in this room. We’re all professionals, Victoria.”