It worked. Ruth gaped at the slide titled Average course utilization by term. It had the same clean formatting and labels, but this time with blue columns showing the value per term.

  “See, utilization has declined over time.” Chloe pointed to the screen. “You’re allowing smaller classes to run, even though it costs more money.”

  “These numbers came from Maggie too?” Ruth had never seen anything like it at Pulaski.

  “Uh-huh.” Still avoiding eye contact, Chloe tapped the keyboard again. “We also made a list of the smallest classes that ran last term and the number of students. I don’t know the reasoning behind all of these courses, but you certainly haven’t been stingy.”

  Ruth stared at the slide. Steve would lose his mind if she came prepared with a rebuttal like this, but could she trust the information? Chloe was obviously exaggerating Maggie’s role in the presentation, but then who had done the rest? It couldn’t be Chloe’s work…could it?

  It was almost one o’clock. Ruth didn’t have time to figure it out. “How certain are you that these numbers are right? I can’t present this to the board unless I’m sure that it’s accurate.”

  “Well, look at the numbers. You should be familiar with at least some of the data, even if you haven’t seen it presented exactly like this. Does it match your expectations or not?”

  Ruth scanned the list of small classes on the screen. She remembered each one since she had granted special permission to run them. “May I?” She gestured at the keyboard.

  “Of course.”

  Toggling back to the previous slide, Ruth thought about how the schedule had changed since she’d been at Pulaski.

  “We double-checked everything.” Chloe met her eyes. “You can trust me.”

  For some reason, Ruth did trust her—despite her evasive answers about the origin of the presentation. Ruth’s gut told her Chloe was on her side. “Okay. I need to get moving. Could you print these out for me?”

  “Already done. The printout is on my desk.” Chloe pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and set it on the table. “I also put the presentation on here, in case you’re allowed to use the projector.”

  “Of course I am. You came with me last month when I presented on the budget. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Chloe tugged on her hair. “I forgot.”

  Now Chloe was back to acting spacey? God, whatever. I need to move. Ruth plucked the flash drive from the table. “Will I recognize the file name?”

  “It’s the only file on the drive. Here, I’ll get the printed version.” Chloe jumped up.

  Ruth watched Chloe scurry out of the office. She thought of everything.

  Chloe returned seconds later with a stack of paper. “I made two copies in case you want to share.” Her eyes sparkled. “Like, maybe you could share them with Steve.”

  Ruth cackled as she slid the charts into her bag. “Perhaps I will.” She stepped into the abominable high heels and started toward the door.

  “Good luck,” Chloe said.

  Ruth leveled a serious gaze at Chloe. “When the meeting is over, we’re going to talk about where this really came from. But for now…thank you.”

  Chapter 9

  Ruth pursed her lips and nodded along as Zachary presented the budget report. The tedious recitation gave her a chance to ruminate.

  She didn’t believe for one second that Maggie was behind the presentation. Maggie might have helped with access to the data, but the sleek visualizations were beyond her capabilities. Could the mysterious faculty member who had tipped Chloe off have helped? At first she’d assumed the leak was Chloe’s friend Miguel Fumero, but poets weren’t known for their data visualization skills. Perhaps one of the social science faculty was involved?

  It was possible, but Ruth’s instincts told her otherwise. Chloe’s nervous body language, combined with her earnest assurance that the numbers were legitimate, strongly implied she was responsible. But where had she learned those skills? And why was she suddenly invested in Ruth’s presidency, after weeks of sporadic attendance and indifferent performance?

  Meanwhile, Steve Stubbons smirked at her from the front row of the section reserved for faculty—a section that was nearly empty since most faculty considered themselves to be on summer break. It brought Ruth cheer to know that one of Steve’s faculty friends had leaked his plan to Chloe. Perhaps some of them were catching on to his act.

  At last, the trustees reached the standing agenda item called Faculty Update. If Steve was going to speak, this would be the time.

  Sure enough, Steve stood and whispered something to the board’s secretary, Ramona, who operated the laptop and projector.

  Soon, a table appeared on the screen, showing Pulaski’s enrollment over the past five years.

  Ruth sucked in a breath. Chloe was right.

  Some of the observers murmured to each other, and Zachary shot Ruth a dirty look. He probably thought she should have shut Steve down ahead of time—as if she had that kind of power over faculty. It was an unlikely miracle that Ruth was even prepared to respond.

  “Good afternoon.” Steve surveyed the sparse audience. “We are days away from beginning a summer term with the lowest enrollment in four years. This trend is of grave concern to the faculty, and we have done all we can to reverse it.” He shot a pointed glare at Ruth. “Unfortunately, our college leadership has contributed to the decline.”

  From there, Steve launched into a tirade about course cancelations, arguing that every canceled class drove students away from the college. The cancelations had deprived students of intimate seminars. Worst of all, faculty were forced to teach tedious general education courses instead of their preferred topics.

  As he blathered on, Ruth watched the faces of the board members. They were all frowning, except for Brian Skylar, who appeared absorbed in his phone. Zachary’s jaw churned as though chewing an invisible wad of gum.

  Steve flipped to a garish PowerPoint slide titled Failed Strategy, Steve accused Ruth of hacking away at instruction so she could divert funds to extracurriculars and the much-maligned career center. “Faculty have attempted to address the enrollment crisis with Dr. Holloway, but she refuses to listen. If we don’t see instruction prioritized, the faculty will consider a vote of no confidence.” He paused as though the audience needed time to absorb his dramatic announcement, then leaned into the microphone. “Thank you.”

  Typically, Zachary responded to the faculty update with a few remarks. As he reached for the microphone in front of him, Ruth clicked her microphone on. “May I respond?”

  “Please.” Zachary sat back.

  Ruth flashed a warm smile at Ramona. “Could you please pull up the slides I gave you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ramona tapped the laptop, and Steve’s presentation disappeared from the screen.

  While she waited, Ruth couldn’t resist a quick glance at Steve.

  His eyes were wide. He hadn’t expected Ruth to have a response ready—let alone slides.

  When Chloe’s first slide appeared on the screen, Ruth turned to address the board. “It’s true that our enrollment has declined in recent years, largely due to external economic and political factors. However, please note that colleges throughout Illinois experienced the same decline—and in fact, since I arrived two years ago, Pulaski has fared better than the statewide average.”

  Zachary’s mouth quirked into something resembling a smile.

  Ruth turned to Ramona. “Next slide, please? Thank you. We cancel courses that don’t have enough students, as long as equivalent courses are available. But as you can see, the average utilization rate has declined each year that I’ve been president. In other words, classes are smaller than ever. This means that each year, we spend more money on instruction per pupil than we did the previous year.”

  Ruth nodded at Ramona, and the final slide appeared. “Finally, these are the smallest classes we ran last year. They all had five students or fewer. I share Dr. Stubbons’s concerns about enrollment, but the idea that it’s a consequence of cuts to instruction couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  When she finished, Ruth turned to Steve, noting with satisfaction his red face and bugged-out eyes. “Dr. Stubbons, I hope you will correct any erroneous statements you may have made to the faculty council. Furthermore, I’d ask any faculty who are concerned about low enrollment to make sure they participate in my retention initiatives—such as recording attendance in GradesFirst.” She turned back to Zachary with a sweet smile. “Thank you for the time.”

  Zachary broke into a grin, then quickly suppressed it. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Dr. Holloway, for that clarification. I believe this should put any concerns about the class schedule to rest. Will you make the slides available so we can include them in the board report?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “Good. I believe our next agenda item concerns the cafeteria contract.”

  Ruth sat back, basking in her victory. Zachary was pleased. Steve was livid. It couldn’t have gone better.

  Now it was time to figure out what the hell was going on.

  * * *

  Caitlyn saw the whole thing. She watched the live video feed at her desk, letting the phone ring and ring.

  Her shoulders tensed when Steve began his little speech. It was exactly as hostile as she’d anticipated, not to mention unfair. He’d obviously never dug into the data beyond the fact that enrollment was down—and the formatting was hideous. Nice slide, jackass.

  Then Ruth, serene as a summer breeze, asked if she could respond. She spoke with her shoulders back and her chin raised, waving her elegant fingers as she enunciated her points. Her performance was poised and professional. Only the spark in her eyes betrayed her delight at the opportunity to demolish Steve’s presentation.

  God, this is hot. Caitlyn fanned herself as she gazed at the screen. She couldn’t help it—smart women kicking ass were her kryptonite.

  When Ruth finished, Caitlyn bounced in her chair, incapable of sitting still. She had made a real impact on the discussion and possibly on Ruth’s presidency. The thought that her analysis had helped Ruth made her giddy.

  As the meeting wrapped up, however, Caitlyn’s excitement faded. Soon, Ruth would return to the office, and Caitlyn would have to answer questions about the origin of the slides.

  For a moment, Caitlyn allowed herself to fantasize about taking credit. It was me. I crunched the numbers and made the slides. I’m actually trained in quantitative research. I have a PhD…

  Warmth spread through her as she imagined Ruth’s eyes gleaming with gratitude. You did this for me?

  Shaking her head, Caitlyn banished the daydream. Telling the truth was impossible. She wouldn’t put Chloe at risk by even hinting at what they’d done. Not to mention, Caitlyn was the one wearing a badge with a false name. She could be arrested, and then she could impress everyone on her prison cell block with her fancy degree.

  She would stick to her story: Maggie had done most of the work. Hopefully, Ruth wouldn’t get a chance to talk to Maggie until next week, when Caitlyn was long gone.

  The harder question was how to break the news that “Chloe” wouldn’t be back on Monday—or ever again. Every time Caitlyn imagined the conversation, she felt queasy. She didn’t want to let Ruth down, and she didn’t want to leave.

  Ruth swept through the doors with flushed cheeks and beads of sweat on her forehead. “It’s too hot for this damn suit.”

  “Oh, yeah. I bet.” Caitlyn held her breath as Ruth neared the desk.

  Ruth walked right past her. A moment later, she returned with her feet clad only in stockings. “I’m going to freshen up. Then we’ll talk.”

  “Okay.” Caitlyn’s mouth had gone dry. She took a swig of her water and waited.

  Ruth was most likely using the private restroom connected to the back of her office; she’d return any second.

  Should I go in? Or wait to be summoned? Caitlyn hated ambiguous instructions, the bane of any perfect student. After a minute, she got up and tentatively approached Ruth’s office. She hovered just beyond the door until Ruth reappeared.

  “Come in, come in.” Ruth gestured at the chair beside her desk. “Have a seat.” She’d ditched the blazer, revealing a sleeveless cream top that clung to her breasts. While she appeared more comfortable, her skin glowed with a lingering heat.

  Caitlyn tried to appear calm as she sat down, but she couldn’t stop fidgeting. Finally, she clamped her right hand with her left in an effort to be still.

  Ruth sat next to her, angling her desk chair so they faced each other. She crossed her legs and pushed her bangs out of her face. “So.”

  Was that Caitlyn’s cue to explain? “Um. I watched the board meeting on the video feed. You did a great job.” It came out in an oddly high pitch.

  “Yes. Thanks to you—and Maggie.” Ruth gave her a pointed expression.

  “Um, yeah.” Caitlyn squirmed and averted her eyes. “We were happy to help.”

  “Look at me,” Ruth said sharply. “Who made the slides?”

  Caitlyn reluctantly met her gaze. “What do you mean? I already told you.” She was blinking too much, a combination of nerves and the damn fake eyelashes, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Ruth tilted her head. “So if I call Maggie right now, she’ll tell me the same thing?”

  Oh shit. Caitlyn swallowed. “Uh-huh.”

  “Good. Let’s give her a call, shall we?” Ruth watched Caitlyn closely. “In fact, I’ll ask her to stop by so I can thank her in person.”

  It was a trick. Caitlyn held her breath, determined not to cave.

  Ruth picked up the phone and tapped the speaker button, filling the office with the sound of a dial tone. “Let’s see, what is Maggie’s extension?” She opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. “Ah. Here.”

  Caitlyn felt like a criminal sweating under bright lights while an unflappable detective threatened to call her bluff.

  Beep… Boop…

  “Okay, okay!” She held up her hands. “Don’t call her. I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “I’m listening.” Ruth crossed her arms.

  Caitlyn took a moment to catch her breath, while her brain scrambled for a way out. She couldn’t deny what she’d done, but maybe she could downplay it. “When I heard what Steve was planning, I went to see Maggie. I asked her for some data, and I did a couple of basic calculations and made the slides.”

  “Okay.” Ruth sat back, appearing relieved that she had an answer, but nowhere near satisfied. “Where did you learn how to do this?”

  “Nowhere. I mean, I took a math class in college, and I’m pretty good with Excel.” She shifted and scratched her arm. “Anyway, I just aggregated the data and calculated some percentages. It’s not advanced econometrics or anything.”

  “No.” Ruth squinted. “You did more than that. You asked the right questions, and you knew which data to request. Then you presented the information in a way that refuted Steve’s claims—and if I have the correct timeline, you did it in a couple of hours. That’s more than knowing how to use Excel.”

  Warmth rose in Caitlyn’s cheeks at the compliment. But she had to focus. “You’re right. I like to learn on my own—searching the web, reading articles and tutorials, things like that.”

  “You studied data analysis and graphing software in your free time? Why?”

  Fuck. Why would Chloe study those topics outside of school?

  Caitlyn decided the safest strategy was to stick to Chloe’s actual biography. “Well, you already know that I stopped after my associate’s degree. Originally, the plan was to transfer to a four-year college and get my bachelor’s degree. But I had this girlfriend, Jacqueline. She was a musician.”

  Ruth’s head jerked up at the word girlfriend, but she quickly adopted a neutral expression.

  Welp, I came out to Ruth. Or Chloe did. Caitlyn pushed her instinctive anxiety aside; Ruth was far too intelligent to be a homophobe, and besides, Chloe wouldn’t be back. “Anyway, Jacqueline convinced me to travel with her band. I was on the road with her for almost a year. When she dumped me, I was broke and had loads of credit card debt, so I had to work—and with every year that went by, it seemed less likely that going back to college was something I would ever do.” An unexpected sadness came over her. While Chloe had never cared much for academics, she would have loved the four-year college experience. It was a shame that she’d never gone.

  “I see.” Ruth’s expression remained skeptical.

  “But even though I didn’t have an institutional affiliation, I didn’t let it stop me from learning. I mean, the Internet exists. And I’m smart enough.” Caitlyn looked past Ruth out the windows, where a lone student walked on the cobblestone path with a stack of books in his arms. “All I ever wanted was to belong to a community of scholars that wanted me. But if that wasn’t possible, I could still read and learn.”

  “Well, that’s admirable. But why didn’t you say anything before?”

  Caitlyn looked back at Ruth. “What do you mean?”

  Ruth scratched the back of her neck. “Why didn’t you tell me you had an interest in data?”

  “Because I’m your assistant. You didn’t hire me to analyze data, so why would I bring it up?”

  “No.” Ruth wagged her finger. “Come on, it’s more than that. Until recently, you’ve acted like—well, you know what I mean. Not terribly interested.”

  Thanks, Chloe. Caitlyn fumbled for an explanation. “That’s true, but…um…it’s a defense mechanism. Sometimes, I’m insecure about not having more of a formal education, so I sort of put on an act.” Her voice came out high-pitched and hesitant.

  “Hmm.” Disapproval darkened Ruth’s eyes. “Don’t downplay your intelligence ever again. Especially not with me.”