Page 57 of She’s Worth the Risk

And it takes every last ounce of my strength not to beg her to stay.

“Your class was the highlight of my summer,” she says, clutching her paper to her chest. “Thank you for… everything.” Then she turns on her heel.

And I watch her leave my class for the final time.

24

ZINNIA

Gran’s in the kitchen making tea when I arrive home that afternoon.

“Hello, darling.” She kisses me on the cheek as I enter, the scent of Chanel No. 5 mingling with bergamot from her tea. “How was your last class?”

I dump my bag on the round wooden table in the center of the kitchen, the same one Gran and I have eaten at since I was a child. It’s marked from years of use, but that’s what makes it special. All the memories it holds.

“Good,” I say. Class itself was great, but I was sad to walk out of NYU for the last time. I’ve loved every minute of class, even if the past week has been especially torturous. Nick was more subdued than ever today, and all I wanted was to linger after his lecture, to follow him to his office and see if I could cheer him up. I don’t know what was going on with him, but I have a plan.

And I can only hope he's prepared to take the risk.

“I guess you’ll be packing your bags then,” Gran says, eying me as she dips her tea bag.

I snort a laugh, taking an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. I haven’t even unpacked my bags, so packing isn’t an issue.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” I joke, but Gran doesn’t laugh.

“No,” she says quietly. “Trying to get used to how much I’ll miss you when you’re gone, Z.”

My heart twists. “Gran,” I say softly, touching her arm. “It’s not like I’m running off tonight.” I give her a cheeky grin, adding, “I’ve got plans.” What I don’t say is that my plans involve pursuing my professor. Well, ex-professor, but even then I’m not sure Gran would approve. Especially not when it’s a man she knows.

She smiles, reaching for something on the counter.

“What’s that?” I ask, biting into my apple.

She lifts a bony shoulder, feigning innocence as she holds out some kind of booklet. “Just a little something to read.”

I take the booklet, realizing it’s a brochure of NYU’s fall courses, and a laugh slips out. Real subtle, Gran. But despite myself, curiosity tugs at me as I flip through the pages.

“Alright,” I say, chewing. “I’ll take a look.”

Satisfied, Gran pats me on the arm and pads from the room.

I flick absently through the brochure as I eat, and something catches my eye. A class titled Art, Patronage, and Power in Renaissance Italy, with Dr. Teagan Webber. My pulse quickens as I read the description. Ever since Gran explained it to me years ago, I’ve been fascinated by the concept of patronage, the financial support provided by the wealthy to artists and scholars, particularly common in the Renaissance. We covered it a little in Nick’s class, but given it was only six weeks, we didn’t have time to dive as deep as I would have liked.

And even though it goes against everything I’ve done in the past, I wonder what it might be like to stay for a full semester. To take this class, maybe get a job…

The thought sends a strange thrill through me, unfamiliar and a little unsettling. I set the brochure down, swallowing my apple and forcing myself to take a deep breath. Could I really do that? Sign up for an entire semester?

The question percolates as I toss my apple core into the trash and turn to the fridge. But as I go to grab a bottle of water, I spot something strange. Gran’s box of tea bags in the produce drawer. And when I move them to the pantry where they belong, I find the milk beading condensation on the pantry shelf.

My stomach sinks. To anyone else it might seem like nothing, a simple mistake, but deep down I know it’s something else. Something I’ve been desperately trying to deny.

Closing the pantry, I wander into the living room. Gran’s in her recliner, flicking through the channels, and doesn’t look up when I enter. My chest squeezes as I gaze at her, small and frail in her chair. I open my mouth to suggest I stay home tonight, then snap it shut. She’d never let me cancel my plans for her. She hates me making a fuss.

Instead, I grab the brochure and my bag from the kitchen, and climb the stairs to my room. My gaze lands on my suitcase, still packed on the floor at the foot of my bed. With a sigh, I take my dresses, hanging them in the closet. At least this way if Gran walks in, she won’t see my suitcase packed and get upset.

Once I’ve unpacked my clothes, I sink onto the edge of the iron-framed bed and open my laptop, bringing up the NYU class registration page. Before I can talk myself out of it, I enroll in the patronage class. No harm in at least enrolling, I tell myself. I can still decide later.

My pulse thrums as I put my laptop away and head to the bathroom, stepping into the shower. As I wash and dry my hair, I don’t let myself think about the clothes hanging in the closet, the fall class.