Flirting with Fifty

“Fortunately, a lot has changed for you since then,” Elizabeth said. “You’re here now. Settled. Successful. Free.”

Free. That was maybe the most important thing. Paige turned her paper coffee cup in the holder. “What do you think sixty will be like?”

Elizabeth pursed her lips, considered the future. “Good. As long as long as we have our health and our mental faculties intact, we should be fine.” Her expression brightened. “And speaking of faculties, how is our favorite new faculty member?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “Oh, Elizabeth, that was a very bad pun. Even for you.”

Elizabeth grinned. “Agreed, but that doesn’t answer the question. Things going well with the sexiest scientist in all of Australia?”

“It’s going well,” Paige said, wondering if maybe it was time to mention the fact that she actually knew Jack a little bit better than she’d admitted, but she dreaded Elizabeth’s reaction, because there would be a reaction. A big one. But if she wanted Elizabeth to stop matchmaking, then maybe she needed to bring Elizabeth up to speed.

Or not.

She took in Elizabeth’s expression, still laughing, still full of happy mischief, and decided against it.

And Elizabeth wondered why her twins were so much trouble? Come on. Elizabeth was trouble. But that’s also why Paige loved her.

*   *   *

Class was easy. Paige lectured and answered questions, and then she was back in her office, door open, going through emails, waiting for any student needing her help. One student had made an appointment, but he never showed. Her office hours ended with Jack knocking on the open door.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, and then glanced at her desk, with the two open computers, and smiled. “Dumb question. Of course I’m interrupting.”

“Just waiting for you,” she answered, rolling back from her desk. “Want to close the door and we’ll get started?”

He shut the door but before taking one of the chairs opposite her desk he walked around the small room, briefly glancing at her diplomas before studying a large framed poster titled Important Women of Math, with photos of sixteen women below, women from ancient Greece to famous American mathematicians of color. “I’ve never seen this poster before,” he said.

“It was a slide I made to use in class. One of my former students said I should turn it into a poster, so I did.”

He turned back to the poster and tapped the drawing of Hypatia, the first woman to ever study and teach mathematics and philosophy. “Now, she’s a woman who suffered for her art.”

“Stoned because she wasn’t a Christian.”

“But if she hadn’t been famous, she wouldn’t have drawn such attention.”

“I suspect if she hadn’t been a woman, she wouldn’t have been pulled from her chariot and shredded by a bunch of zealots.” She returned to her desk. “You better not get me started. I’ve been accused of carting around a feminist soapbox.”

“Get on that soapbox. I love smart women with a point of view.”

“Maybe one day. But it’d probably take a drink or two.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he answered, pulling out a chair opposite her. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. By tomorrow I should be good as new.”

He frowned as his gaze swept the room. “Your office is hot, and bright. Don’t you have any blinds?”

“No. I don’t think any of us have blinds.”

“I do.”

She was shocked. “What?”

He nodded. “No wonder you get a headache. What if we go to the Bean Box to work? It’s darker and cooler than here. They also have food.”

“I don’t have wheels today. I’m relying on Elizabeth.”

“I can take you, and then drop you off at home.”

“That’s out of your way.”

“I have nothing pressing to do today.”

“No research papers to write? No Zoom meetings to attend?”

He smiled. “I do have a Zoom tonight, but that’s not for hours.”

“What’s your Zoom for?”

“The Nelson Mandela African Institution of Science and Technology in Arusha.”

“Arusha?”

“Tanzania. It’s one of the universities set up by Mandela and Jim Wolfensohn when Jim was head of the World Bank that was created to focus on the sciences that are vital for Africa—human and wildlife health, conservation and the environment, and food sciences.”

“What do you do for them?”

“Consult. Teach. Research. Every year a number of my Princeton grad students head there for field work, teaming with students in Arusha.”

She could hear the enthusiasm in his voice and see the light in his eyes. He was passionate about his work. He’d been passionate about his work thirty years ago, too. She was glad that hadn’t changed. “Do you usually go with them?”

He nodded. “I have wonderful colleagues at the institute in Arusha. I like to return every chance I can.” He paused. “So, can I give you that ride, or should we schedule for another day?”

“Let me send Elizabeth a text. I wouldn’t mind getting out of here now.”

After packing up, they left the building and headed to the faculty and staff parking structure on the edge of campus. Jack was parked on the second floor, and he walked her to an old four-door car. “This is Gertie,” he said. “Not much to look at, but she’s reliable and has served me well.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You named your car?”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t form relationships with my vehicles, no.”

“You’re missing out, then.” He opened the passenger door for her and closed it once she was inside.

As he started the car and backed out of the parking spot, he asked her about her migraines. “Yesterday you called them Santa Ana migraines. What does that mean?”

“The hot, dry winds that blow west, from over the mountains, seem to trigger my headaches. Something to do with the very dry air, I think. I never had migraines until I moved here, but I’m learning to cope.”

“You have prescription medicine?”