Chapter Three
Hazel’s stomach had been doing flips all morning. She’d managed to drink some hot water with lemon when she’d gotten up, but that had been it until she got a coconut milk latte from the campus café. Instead of drinking it, she found herself carrying it with her from class to the library for her work-study hours until she was on her way to Cartwright’s class with a stone-cold coffee and a growling stomach.
A little lightheaded, she pulled out one of the crunchy granola bars that she always carried with her. It was almost ridiculous for her to be so nervous. Why get worked up when you’re about to tell someone what they want to hear? Regardless, Hazel knew that until she was able to talk to Cartwright face-to-face, she would have a hard time focusing on anything. She could barely remember anything from her Poli-Sci Race and Gender class that morning. After nibbling on her granola bar, Hazel drew in deep breaths and took little sips of her coffee. It might as well have been iced, now, but she hated to waste money.
Bit by bit, students began to show up. Ellis and Gina sat next to one another on the floor, since Hazel was already on the bench. She could tell that they would rather be safely out of conversation range with her. No one seemed to think that the problem in their class was Chris. Everyone seemed to think that his behavior was no big deal and that she was the troublemaker for responding to it. What she couldn’t discern was whether this meant fourteen potential entrepreneurs were going out into the workplace who would just let the Chris’ of the world turn their businesses into toxic cesspools out of some kind of social etiquette not to call out that behavior, or whether they actually thought his ideas were good.
The class in the lecture hall let out, and students streamed past her peers waiting in the hallway. Gina looked over at Hazel for a moment before getting up and slipping past the other students to go take a seat. Ellis would sit with Gina. The others would cluster nearby. Hazel would sit on the edge of the group, and Chris would make sure that he sat near her. So he could be absolutely sure that she could hear his hilarious jokes.
Ugh.
Instead of going in to get a seat in the front, Hazel got out her phone and tried to look busy. She waited until there was only a minute left before class to get up and collect her things.
“Oh.” Hazel was startled when she saw Dr. Cartwright right there at the doorway.
“Are you coming in?” He sounded a bit amused.
“Sorry. I got caught up—”
“No problem. You’re not too late. Yet.” Cartwright gestured towards himself and smiled.
Hazel skirted past him, feeling his presence so close to her, and, after eyeballing the layout of students, selected a seat behind Gina. Just as Cartwright began calling the class to order, Chris slid in.
“I know the old adage ‘Time is Money’ may be a bit passé for your generation,” Cartwright drawled as he leaned back against the desk. “Especially when I do a video conference call at least once a day. But people still expect you not to waste their time.”
“Uh, the bus was running late,” Chris said.
Cartwright motioned toward a seat right next to him. “Just sit. We have a lot of material to cover.”
Hazel adjusted her tablet on the desk and readied herself to take notes.
“It’s come to my attention that there’s been a problem with appropriate behavior lately,” Cartwright said.
Half of the eyes in the room went to Chris; the other half turned to Hazel.
“A young man who is giving out suggestions and making jokes that are creating a hostile environment.” Dr. Cartwright plugged a jump drive into a computer, and a PowerPoint popped up. “The precipitating event also occurred in one of my original offices in England, around Sussex, but I thought given our discussions of workplace communication, we’d talk about some cases that I’ve had to address during my time. The first few, I can give you more concrete answers. I handled these toward the beginnings of my business, and so I can tell you quite clearly how you’d deal with the problems one-on-one. Later cases, which occurred after my business expanded, I did not always have the luxury of handling myself.”
Cartwright clicked the screen, and the demographic breakdown for the office in Sussex appeared on the screen. “I’ll open the floor later in the session for suggestions on how to redirect behavior and mediate problems.”
Hazel sucked in her lower lip, and strangely, felt her shoulders going loose. Cartwright couldn’t have come up with this on the fly, just because. He’d always given them readings when he wanted to address something specific like this. And at the end of the last class, he had made it seem that they would be discussing the HR texts he’d given them.
No, this little lecture was based on Hazel’s complaint about Chris. Cartwright had heard her and listened. And not only had he decided to correct the matter, but he’d also come up with an entire lesson and activity for them to engage with because he’d decided workplace dynamics merited the time for a real discussion. Even better, anyone could tell that Chris knew this lesson was in part related to his comments in class because his ears were blazing red.
Feeling lighter than she had all week, Hazel took a big swig of her coffee and started rapidly taking notes and jotting down her questions about each scenario in the comments. It was one of the best classes she’d had with Cartwright since the semester had begun.
***
After Cartwright had dismissed the students, Hazel lingered, putting her tablet away slowly. While it had been gratifying to hear Cartwright support her, the discussion that class had been lively and a lot more helpful than she might have imagined. Despite his clout, Hazel hadn’t always thought that much of his business prowess. He was smart, yes, but much of what they discussed seemed like she could’ve gotten similar advice from the other professors. Besides, she would never be starting a business like his. Hazel would be running nonprofit startups and organizing grassroots action. Maximizing profits wasn’t exactly on the top of her priorities.
It really hadn’t occurred to her that through his posturing and charisma, Ian Cartwright had a great deal of practical experience.
“Well, Hazel?”
Hazel felt her cheeks growing warm. Even as she looked up, intending to tell him yes to his proposal, her heart was in her throat. “G-good class today,” she managed.
“I thought so. Timely.” Cartwright paused and crossed his arms. “I’m glad you appreciated the lesson.”
“I did.” Hazel brushed a hand over her hair and suddenly wished she hadn’t pulled her hair into pigtails that morning. She felt like such a kid. “Um, the case in London was particularly informative.”
“Yes, that one was tricky.”
Hazel bit her lip and hitched her bag on her shoulder.
“Was that all?”
“No.” Hazel drew in a deep breath. “About your offer…”
Dr. Cartwright raised his brows and tilted his head to the side. “You’ve decided against it?”
“No! Oh, no, I was going to say that I’d like to do it.”
Cartwright chuckled. “You seemed so anxious. I thought that didn’t bode well for me.”
“No, I just. That’s just… me.” Hazel shrugged. “I want to work with you as your assistant, and I actually love to do research, so that’s not a problem at all.”
“Oh, so there is a problem.”
Hazel squeezed the strap of her messenger bag. “Okay. Look. I know it’s customary not to give credit to research assistants or assistants in general, but I think the practice is less than ethical. I do want to work with you but, if I do, I’d like to make sure I get some degree of credit for my work, and I would want a letter of recommendation for graduate school.”
Cartwright seemed taken aback. “You want to be a co-author?”
“I-I no. Of course not.” Hazel shifted her weight. “I was thinking at least an acknowledgment at the beginning of the book. Maybe, if any articles appeared in business magazines prior to publication, I could be a co-writer.”
Cartwright put his hands on his hips and frowned. “I’ll have to think about that. I don’t tend to sit down and actually write the books.”
“You don’t?”
“Obviously, I’m too busy for that kind of thing. I make my observations and hand them over to a ghostwriter.” Cartwright rubbed his fingers over his lips thoughtfully. “Though, you are a good writer. Even if your prose is a bit dense for mass-market publication. We might be able to work out an arrangement, wherein you help with the research, we’ll discuss your findings, and I give you the notes that I would have given to my ghostwriter. In that case, I certainly would consider putting your name on the cover.”
“Oh!” Hazel gave a little hop, then cringed as he laughed. “That’s much more than I had hoped.”
“As for the letter… Honestly, graduate school is a waste of your time. You should just go into the market and get work experience.”
“That’s what my internships have been for, right? And I can write down that I’ve been your assistant,” Hazel replied. “You really don’t believe in graduate school for business?”
“Not for nonprofits, I don’t. Or social work. Or feminism, or whatever you intended to major in.” Cartwright rolled his eyes.
Hazel huffed. “I think that’s my business—what I choose to study. These jobs are work worth doing. There’s already so much wrong with the world. How can you live in it if you don’t try as hard as you can to make things better?”
“Fine.” Cartwright held his hands up. “I’ll write you a recommendation for wherever you’d like. Just don’t lecture me anymore today. I’m far too tired.”
“Sorry.” Hazel averted her gaze.
“Don’t be.” Cartwright raked his eyes over her. “It’s cute how intense you are. It can be hard to convince people your age to care.”
“I’ve always been like this,” Hazel admitted. She tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash. “I made my parents get a recycle bin. I had to make my own dinners in high school when I became a vegan because my mother didn’t want to make a separate meal. I went to a protest for the first time at twelve.”
Cartwright laughed again. “You certainly are full of energy. But you’re going to have to focus somehow. You can’t save the whole world.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try at all.” Hazel shrugged. “I feel like that’s where a lot of my peers are. They’re just overwhelmed by all the problems, so they end up doing nothing. I won’t give up just because I can’t do everything.”
Cartwright licked his lips, looking ever so amused. “I have a feeling you’re going to keep me on my toes, Miss Greenwood.”
“Sounds fun!”
Cartwright nodded and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll have HR send the relevant paperwork to you. You can start Monday.” He started to leave, then paused at the door. “I hope it goes without saying that I’ll expect appropriate business attire.”
“Right…” Hazel looked down at herself. Maybe the jean short overalls with the black cat patterned shirt had been a mistake. She must look like a toddler today. “I’ll be there at eight.”
“I await our first day working together with baited breath,” Cartwright teased.
Hazel folded her arms over herself. Why hadn’t she thought to dress better today? She never put that much effort into outfits for class, but she could have at least tried to look like an adult. It was a little grating—knowing that she was younger than most of her peers. She’d skipped first grade and so, even with her double major, she had only just turned twenty-one. No matter what, she would have to step up her game for this internship. A lot was riding on her performance here, and Dr. Cartwright had been very generous, but if she didn’t live up to his expectations, then there probably would be no book, no letter, and definitely some professional embarrassment.
But she had the weekend. She would use it to look beyond the tabloid story of Ian Cartwright and prepare to show her professor all she was really capable of.