Grey Expectations Read Online Free

working all out through the winter, pushing herself past the point of exhaustion. Although her thesis wasn’t anything Dulcie cared about – something about architectural details in the mid-Victorian novel – Dulcie had been impressed by how comprehensive Trista’s research had been. She had gotten permission to read rare manuscripts – first drafts of books that were now long forgotten – and she had backed this primary research up with supporting material, from diaries to contemporary reviews. The Victorians, Dulcie knew this much, saved everything – and Trista had done her best to read it all, as well as keep up with all the modern scholars in her field. It had been an impressive feat, and anyone who looked over at the slight, pierced blonde and thought ‘airhead’ was going to have another thought coming once she published.
    Trista started hiccuping, and Dulcie reached for the Kleenex. Publishing. That was key, but Trista seemed to have a clear road ahead of her. Once she defended her thesis, she could revise it – two university presses had already approached her, an almost unheard of bounty. And the Rattigan? Nothing in life was ever certain, but Trista was viewed in the department as the likely winner. In addition to the money – a rarity as the university increasingly shuffled to protect its dwindling endowment – the one-year post-doc that came with it was seen as a stepping stone to a tenure track position. And for Trista, Dulcie knew, it meant one more year in Cambridge, where her boyfriend Jerry was finishing his own graduate studies. It meant, in brief, happiness.
    Trista’s hiccups had subsided, and Dulcie suggested tea. As she made her way into Trista’s kitchen, she added Roland Galveston to the equation. The newcomer was smart, sure, but had he been a threat to Trista? Academic positions were few and far between, but Dulcie didn’t think she was being too much of a Pollyanna to assume that there might be jobs for both of them.
    As she waited for the water to boil, she forced herself to think rationally. That was, after all, supposed to be her forte. What were Trista’s chances – and how did Roland affect them? Not everyone became a professor, after all; Dulcie had heard of several doctorates and almost-doctorates who dropped out, overwhelmed either by the pressure or the tide of rejections. That didn’t mean the end of the world. Last fall, an all-but-dissertation had made a big deal about going on to business school, and a recent grad had landed a position with a ritzy New York auction house, appraising rare books. Dulcie rummaged through the cabinet, looking for clean mugs. Trista was dedicated. Smart. She was also a mess. Academia hadn’t been kind to her.
    Was it the wrong path for her friend? No; she shook her head. Trista was no more likely than Dulcie to give up her dream of a scholar’s life. But would she have felt threatened by Roland Galveston?
    If anything, Jerry had seemed more concerned about the newcomer than his girlfriend had, as the dashing Texan had shown what might have been more than a scholarly interest in his pretty colleague. Could that mean that Jerry  . . .? As she returned with two mugs of peppermint tea, Dulcie realized she had to gather a little more info.
    â€˜Tris, if you can, would you run through it again?’ She sipped her tea gingerly and still managed to burn her lip. Running her tongue over the tender spot, she thought about what Trista had already told her. Now that her friend had calmed down, she was wondering if she had missed something. ‘I mean, well, did they find – um – something?’
    Another hiccup. ‘I’m not sure. There were two of them, both plain clothes. They showed up saying they had questions. Questions concerning “the late Roland Galveston”. And the way they looked at me was enough. Dulcie, I think they didn’t have enough to