Truffle in Paradise

CORNELL UNIVERSITY
ITHACA, NEW YORK

The notification pops up on the screen. I almost never leave them on, but I’m waiting for job offers. This process has turned me into a monster: I crave notifications now.

Sweat runs down my temples, and I swipe it away before it hits my screen. My legs keep pumping to Pokey LaFarge’s “Fine to Me” blaring through my earbuds as I ease into cooldown.

Cedarcrest University - Official Offer Letter

I bring the pedals to a slow stop, still perched up on the seat.

“Well, shit.”

Oops. Said that out loud. The surrounding morning gym warriors don’t even look up. The professor on the bike next to me is deeply engaged in climbing virtual hills in… Greece? The Grand Tetons? Who knows? I’m not much of a traveler. The other girl, likely an undergraduate, is rocking out on something so loud even I can hear it spilling out from her pricey earbuds.

I should be grateful, honored even, for this offer. Despite the reputation of our graduate program, most of the people in my class are still waiting for an offer. Believe me, I would know. It’s all anyone talks about lately.

With the hardest parts of our doctoral program behind us—the oral exams, the written exams, the endless revisions of our dissertations—there’s not a lot to obsess about besides this. And obsessing and grinding is kind of a PhD student’s thing.

And here it is at last. My brass ring.

Dr. Jacki Anderson, Assistant Professor

I’ve been working so long to see those words strung together. This should be one of the best moments of my life, but I’ve been spoiled by my undergraduate years at Indiana University and these last five years at Cornell. Both are vibrant, hopping places that consistently show up on the “most beautiful college campuses” lists. Cedarcrest’s mascot is officially the bobcat, but only because “meh” isn’t a defined shape. Their school cheer is a half-hearted shrug.

I only applied there because there were so few openings in my field this year. Hopefully, I’ll get other offers, but things aren’t looking good out there.

I climb off the bike and continue to scrub the towel over my face. My mind is already racing about who I should call. Every friend I want to talk to about this will either be jealous (my fellow job hunters) or will immediately start whining that it’s too far away from Indianapolis (my best friend, Kacie).

What I need is a level head to assess the pros and cons. I dial the number I always dial first…and get voicemail. Like usual.

“You’ve reached Amber Anderson, partner at Thornfield, Blythe, & Associates. If you have this private number, congratulations. You’re very important to me. However, right now, I’m unable to take your call as I am probably handing out some sort of beatdown in court or catching a dirty cheater dead to rights in a deposition. I’ll get back to you after I’ve won my client the settlement she—or he, but let’s be honest, she—deserves. Leave a message if you want, but I won’t listen to it. I’ll call back the number on this screen when I have time. Later days.”

I hang up, having learned a long time ago that Amber, my aunt, who for all practical intents and purposes is my mother, is the poster girl for “she says what she means and means what she says.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I stand outside the open door of my advisor’s office with two hot coffees in my hand, waiting for her Zoom meeting to end. I hold up the coffees, and she waves me in. I hand her the full cup. “Quad shot oat milk latte with an extra shot of espresso,” I say.

“No cinnamon, right?”

“Of course not.”

“You are a dream come true. Have a seat.”

There’s probably some university ethics rule that forbids us from buying her coffees (or vice versa), but that ship sailed a long time ago. I slip into the familiar chair across from her desk.

It says “Dr. Fitzgerald” on her door, but she’s Fitzy to everyone. I’m not sure anyone even knows what her real first name is. She’s everyone’s favorite faculty member, especially since she’s barely older than most of us. If you need to do some light bitching and moaning to an understanding, but not too indulgent ear, Fitzy’s the woman to see. She understands exactly how narrow and twisty the academic path can be and gives the best advice.

Like I said, she’s everyone’s favorite faculty member, but I’m pretty sure I’m her favorite student. We bonded early over our love of Bloomington, Indiana. We both spent some formative years there.

“So,” she says and takes a sip. “Cedarcrest.”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“They gave me the heads-up yesterday. You should get the paperwork in the mail in the next day or so. Are you going to take it?”

I hesitate.

“So no cartwheels then.”

“I know I should be excited. It’s a tough year in an already tough market.”

“All true.”

“And I realize that not every university can be draped in ivy.”

“Also true. And…?”

I grimace. “It’s extremely underwhelming.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” she says, “but yes. It is.”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from UC Davis, but I’m losing hope. The interview was okay, but I just got the impression they had someone else in mind.”

It’s Fitzy’s turn to grimace. “Yeah, your instincts are correct. I hear things. Filled.”

“Anyone from our program?” I ask. It’ll sting, but at least it will be nice to know the person who’s getting the job is at least as qualified as I am. Besides, I’ve grown pretty close to my fellow PhD candidates in the trenches. I’d be happy for any of them. Okay, maybe not Steven.

Please don’t say Steven.

“Someone out of Oregon,” Fitzy says.

Whew.

“So what do you think I should do? Should I wait for something else to magically appear?”

“In this market?”

I let myself wallow in the disappointment for a second and then make peace with my reality. “So, Cedarcrest it is,” I say. “Go Mighty Acorns. Sis-boom-blah. I’ll look great in brown and yellow, right?”

Fitzy laughs. “Such enthusiasm,” she says. “Listen, if you’re sure that you don’t want it, Andy was in the running for that job, too. And his family lives in the same state. I don’t know for certain that he’s Cedarcrest’s backup, but I have a hunch.”

More often than not, Fitzy’s “hunches” might as well be written in stone.

“Uhhh,” I say. Though, I actually feel lighter. Like someone has given me a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. An excuse to say no handed to me on a silver platter. It would be downright noble of me to turn down this turd of a job.

Do it for Andy!

I still need a job, though.

“And you haven’t heard about any more openings anywhere?” I ask, hoping she can indeed pull a “rabbit” out of her hat.

“Not in the U.S., no. It’s the downside of being in such a specialized field.”

Crap.

“Wait! You said, ‘not in the U.S.,’” I say, pointing at her. Hope blooms in my chest.

“I did,” she says and smiles like the Cheshire Cat.

I’ve never even been out of the country. Amber isn’t much of a world traveler. When we skip town and take an actual vacation, we usually end up in either Colorado or Florida. The idea of working overseas intimidates me more than I want to admit.

“Is it in Canada by chance? Or maybe—”

“How do you feel about Italy?” she asks.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ - An absolutely delightful escape - "This book will make you want to hop on a plane asap! I can't wait to visit Utrecht and Alba someday. Jacki and Daan made the cutest pair. Love their love of adventure." -Anne Maertens (Amazon Reviewer)

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ - Fun, interesting love story without added drama - "This is a cute story. I enjoyed the setting and side characters immensely. I didn't really vibe with Jacki, but Daan is a delight. I really loved how it all built to the end without unnecessary drama. Well done." -E. Urriola (Amazon Reviewer)