Read 1 Picking Lemons for Free Online Page B

Edmund’s class for the rest of semester. “And what form of counseling are you offering the faculty and students , Walter? It is so important to be seen as caring, even if the therapy is crap. Get therapy dogs in for all I care. They look great on camera and everyone loves a dog-healing story.”
    The Provost was concerned about the impact on student recruitment and the faculty hiring they had planned in January. “What are your plans to overcome these issues , Walter? We need to get in a replacement for Edmund ASAP. Someone equally as notable and likely to win the Nobel. Harvard is ahead in the count, you know.”
    The President didn’t want there to be any negative impact on fundraising, or stu dents being withdrawn by overly-concerned parents. “Now, Walt, how are we going to ensure this little incident that you have let happen doesn’t affect the bottom line for the university? Think of the endowment, son. Harvard’s still up on us by $10 billion, and, by God, I plan to overtake them during my reign.”
    Walter smiled, nodded, and murmured such phrases as “I’ll work up a plan” and “I’ll send you a memo” and “I’m so glad you asked.” All the time thinking “How can it be that you get paid five times more than I do?”
    *****
    Mary Beth went down to New York after the police allowed her to leave the office the previous night to have a special “mourning mani” done on her nails. Gone was the cheerful red of autumn. Now she was displaying a jet black, with Professor DeBeyer’s initials (P.D.) in electric pink on each nail surrounded by a heart of white tears.
    Paired with her out fit of black, knee high, shiny, vinyl boots and a Ross Dress for Less, Imitation-Designer, black mini, Mary Beth felt that today was the day that her efforts would comfort Professor Daniels into a marriage proposal.
    True to form, Jefferson stopped by just before eleven, protein shake in hand, on his way to coffee time in the faculty lounge. While Jefferson Daniels made nice with his colleagues (and their influence in getting grant money) during coffee time, caffeine never polluted his body. The rest of the faculty was happy to wash down Dunkin’ Donuts with Mary Beth’s finest brew. But Jefferson only drank protein shakes, herbal teas or wheatgrass smoothies.
    “Oh, Professor,” Mary Beth gushed, “I am so, so, so sorry. Such a dear friend. Such a great man.”
    Jefferson bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Thanks , Mary Beth,” he said somberly.
    “And it’s not like he just died, natural like. He was murdered. And we don’t know by who. Maybe, like, one of us. It’s so creepy.”
    Jefferson looked pained, but it wasn’t clear if that was from grief or Mary Beth. He patted her hand. “I’m sure it was just an Elm Grove gang thug. No one we knew or that will bother us again.”
    “The police don’t seem to think so. I guess Edmund wasn’t really a gang type. Though he could be kinda mean sometimes.”
    Jefferson, not his usual flirty self, was moving away from Mary Beth’s desk.
    “Were you questioned by the police?” asked Mary Beth, desperate to keep Jefferson a few minutes longer. “I was. They were, like, so interested. I told them that I took my lunch at noon, as usual. I walked down to Bruegger's Bagels and took the latest Stephanie Plum novel with me. I just love those books. Maybe I should be a bounty hunter. What do you think?”
    Jefferson looked like he thought he had spent too much time listening to Mary Beth.
    Unaware that reliving the events of yesterday was not the best way to console the man, Mary Beth continued recounting her tales with the police. “I told them that, just as I was finishing lunch, I saw Stephen walking towards downtown. I was sitting in Bruegger's at, like just before one. He looked so darn secretive I reckon he has a paid ‘lunch date’ at the Motel 6. I mean, the man has been here six years, and we’ve never seen a girlfriend. It’s unnatural to go that long