― J.E. Birk
Beatrice, aka Lorraine
"Mr. Chapman?" A soft female voice asked.
I looked up into the lovely face of a young woman smiling down at me. I nodded dumbly.
"Dean Stirling will see you now," she said.
I fumbled to gather up my file folders containing my resume, practice teaching reports and university records and transcripts and put them back neatly in my briefcase.
"You won't need those," she whispered. "He just wants to meet you."
"Oh!" I exclaimed, "I thought I was here for an interview."
"You are," she smiled beatifically. "Congratulations."
I nodded again as if I had some idea of what she was communicating, when I didn't. I felt confused and awkward but she gently reached out and touched my elbow to steer me in the right direction.
We walked past two offices and stopped before an imposing oak door. She knocked softly and opened it, stepping aside as she announced, "Mr. Chapman to see you, Dean Stirling."
"Ah, Mr. Chapman," a cultured voice responded, "Please come in."
I entered what can only be described as a law office with its oak panelling, floor to ceiling bookcases and huge leather chairs. The Dean, a white-haired man in his sixties, was sitting behind an ornately carved wooden desk.
I felt the door softly close behind me.
"Please, take a seat, Mr. Chapman. I trust my staff took good care of you?"
"Oh yes, they were all very professional and welcoming."
"Good, good," he smiled, "glad to hear it."
His manner of speech was reminiscent of Christopher Plummer's, a Mid-Atlantic pronunciation that sounded vaguely British but was a distinctly Canadian accent on its best behaviour.
"So, I understand Laird Fisher thinks you're a quite talented young man. That's quite a recommendation."
"I-I'm flattered," I stammered, "I know he offered to give me a reference."
"Oh, no need to be humble, Matt―a reference from Laird means more than a degree from Harvard, although I see you did graduate from University of Toronto, my old alma mater. Good for you, I hope you'll enjoy your time here."
"I'm sorry, Dean Stirling, are you saying I'm hired?"
He smiled benignly at me. "Your duties will consist of teaching English Literature to unwilling young minds. But I'm sure you're adequate to the challenge. Mr. Enfield, our budgetary Coordinator will take care of the paper work but in the meanwhile, Lorraine here, will take you on a tour of the facilities. It being a Friday, you can start Monday. Do have a pleasant weekend Mr. Chapman."
Lorraine , the beautiful young woman who showed me in, gently took my elbow again and steered me back out of the room into the main office area.
"I don't think I thanked him," I mused aloud.
"Dean Stirling Just wanted to meet you. It was a formality. You already had the job. Paul Enfield gave me your paper work. Your first month's pay has already been deposited to your bank account, and here are the keys to your class rooms, your office and a parking pass for your car windshield―lower-left corner, I might add."
I was dazed. Staring into her lovely eyes didn't help―it just made my stomach flutter and kept me off balance.
"We should go for a walk and I'll show you around" she smiled, "and if you're not in a hurry, maybe you can be my guest at lunch and we can get to know each other. How does that sound?"
Well, I’ll tell you, it sounded pretty good to me. I felt I had been shot out of a cannon and ended up in an entirely different world from the one I was used to.
A month's salary already deposited in my checking account and a beautiful girl to play Beatrice to my Dante and be my guide…it was too much for me to take in all at once.
What more could I desire or even wish for? Maybe for the tour to be over and done with and I could be sitting alone with Lorraine staring into her eyes.
Yes, I think it'd be fitting for the tour to end with a glimpse of Paradise.
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