by Amanda Tru
“I was hoping I’d catch you early,” he said with a warm smile.
“Good morning,” she greeted. She pulled her glasses off to wipe the rain from the lenses.
“I know your shift starts at eight, which means you still have about twenty minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
He’d sought her out – waited for her in the busy lobby on a Monday morning. She knew he typically began work at six-thirty, so his presence in the lobby could only be intentional. A warm rush of emotion moved from her chest through her whole body, making her face flush.
“Coffee would be heaven right now,” she agreed, wondering if she might have said it a little too enthusiastically. They got into the elevator, and he pushed the button for his floor. As they moved up, stopping at floor after floor, the crowd gradually thinned until just a few people shared the car with them. When they stepped off the elevator on his floor, he put a light hand on the small of her back to guide her. They strolled through the empty conference room in the middle of the floor to the sea of cubicles and desks, then on to the other side, where he unlocked an office door and she stepped into his realm.
Motion sensors caused the fluorescent lights to flicker on. On the far wall, bookshelves on either side of a credenza held thick tomes of books on engineering and architecture. His desk sat in front of it, empty except for a phone and a black leather desk pad. Next to the window, she saw a small counter that contained a single cup coffee maker and a water filtering pitcher. Across from the window on the other wall, she saw his drafting table with a closed set of plans sitting on top of it. A rack of plans sat on one side of the table, and a low shelf full of bound specifications sat on the other side. A whiteboard with various columns and notes written in different colors hung above the table on the wall. She recognized job numbers, dates, and some codes.
He moved directly to the coffee pot on a counter and put a ceramic mug under the spout. With efficient movements, he placed a coffee pod into the machine and, within seconds, the smell of brewing coffee filled the small room and made her mouth water. She already felt warmer.
“How was your Sunday evening?” she asked as she slipped off her damp coat. Underneath, she wore camel colored wool pants and a brown sweater. She wiggled her toes in her boots, thankful that her feet hadn’t gotten too wet.
“It was quiet,” Ian said. “I watched highlights of the ball game and readied myself for the week. Yours?”
“The exciting life of laundry.” She grinned. “I don’t know why I always put it off until Sunday night. I captioned a thirty-minute television show in between loads.”
She noticed the massive arrangement of flowers sitting on the credenza behind his desk. Immediately, she felt a little guilt and walked over to it, running a finger over the petal of a mum the color of the richest wine. “Ian, I have a little confession to make,” she said quickly before she could talk herself out of it.
He brought her the steaming mug of coffee, and then went back to the coffee maker to wait for his cup to brew. “A confession? That sounds interesting.”
She cleared her throat and took a sip of the coffee, hoping the hot drink might give her a little bit of courage. “Yeah, a confession. I hope you’re not, ah, angry.”
“Impossible to tell with this much information. I’m going to have to digest it.” His teasing tone helped boost her fortitude. His coffee finished brewing and he pulled the cup out from under the spout and took a careful sip.
She took a deep breath deciding that the longer she kept from telling him, the worse it would be. “These flowers,” she said, then she stopped, cleared her throat, and continued, “the flowers were meant for my friend Sami.” With his blank stare, she elaborated. “Sami Jones. Brad Dixon’s secretary. I don’t know how the delivery company got them to you, except it may be because your first name is Samuel. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you came to my office Friday, but I was kind of in shock and really, really wanted to have dinner with you.”
He stared at her for several seconds, not moving, and she couldn’t read his thoughts behind his stoic expression. Finally, he sent his coffee cut down and walked toward her. “I think,” he began his voice low and deep, “that if you had said this to me on Friday afternoon, I would have been annoyed and embarrassed. But because I have spent so much time with you this weekend, all that I can say is I’m thankful to God for that mistake and believe very sincerely that this must be something He orchestrated.”
With everything he could have said, she did not expect that. He reached down and took her hand and didn’t say anything. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, and just looked up at him, staring into his hazel eyes. He reached up and slipped the glasses off her face.
A tap-tap on his door made her step quickly away. She clasped her hands behind her back and watched annoyance creep into his eyes at the interruption.
“Hey, Ian? Just got word that the 9:00 got moved to 8:30,” Ian’s secretary Penny announced as she came through the door. She stopped short when she saw Calla standing next to Ian behind his desk. He very casually handed her glasses back to her. She fumbled and almost dropped them, but finally got them back on her face.
Comically, Penny didn’t speak until Calla had her glasses back in place as if she didn’t recognize her without them. “Oh, hi, Calla.”
Heat flooded Calla’s face, and she stepped even further away from Ian. “Hi, Penny. Good morning.”
She wanted to escape, but she still had almost ten minutes left and didn’t want to miss the time with him. Instead, she scooped up her coffee cup and clasped both hands around it.
“Thanks, Penny,” Ian said. He paused. Penny paused, looking back and forth between him and Calla. Finally, he asked, “Anything else?”
Penny smiled and stepped back out the doorway. “Nothing that can’t wait,” she said through her grin.
Ian turned and looked at Calla as the door shut. “Sounds like the day has to begin,” he said.
“Pity that.” At his grin, she burst out laughing. “I hope there comes a time when I’m not so nervous around you.”
“Well, I’m terrifying. I don’t blame you for feeling nervous.” The dimple appeared.
“Not terrified. But I am nervous. I admit it.”
“You’ll get used to me. We just have to spend more time together.” The cell phone on his desk began vibrating at the same time his desk phone started chirping. “Lunch?”
“I brought mine, but I’m happy to share.” He had a hand on each phone, so she set her cup on the credenza next to the flowers and waved at him. “Get to work. Come get me when you’re free.” As she slipped out the door, she found Penny hovering, obviously waiting for her.
“Do tell,” Penny said, grinning. “I’m dying to know.”
“Penny,” Calla whispered, looking around, “Shh.” She knew all of the secretaries well because they all constantly communicated with her about files. She and Penny had hit it off as friends almost immediately. “I can’t. Really. Too new.” But she stopped and leaned her back against the door and put a hand over her heart. “But, I have to say, I feel like I’m walking on air.”
Penny waved her forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her into an empty conference room.
“I interrupted something, didn’t I?”
“Maybe.” She thought about what might have happened after he took her glasses off. “Fine. Yes. But, really, it’s so early. Please…”
“Girlfriend, I love Ian second only to my boyfriend. And, well, maybe my brothers and dad. But he’s up there. I wouldn’t hurt him or gossip about him to save my life.” She laughed and brought her clasped hands up to her chest. “But I feel so happy right now! It’s like perfection to me.”
Calla looked at her watch. “I have to get downstairs. Catch up with you later. You still need to tell me about your weekend getaway.”
Penny grinned like someone clutching a secret. “Oh, I do. I can’t wait.”
Cal
la laughed and rushed to the elevator, making her way down to her floor. As she walked to her desk and slipped her purse into her drawer, she watched the digital clock on her radio switch to 8:00 exactly.
“Good morning,” Francine, her boss, greeted, coming up behind her with a stack of requests. “How was your weekend?”
“Wonderful,” Calla sincerely replied. “Best one I’ve had in a long time.”
“That’s fantastic.” Francine held out the papers. “Best get to it. The short Thanksgiving week has everyone trying to cram the world into three days, and Meredith and Becky are both out this week.”
Calla took the papers and walked over to the empty counter that spanned the length of the room. She started sorting requests. With dozens of rows of filing cabinets, documents cabinets, and plans racks, she needed to sort by department – legal, accounting, residential, commercial – and by location inside the filing system. Once she had everything in order, she pulled the plans, blueprints, and specifications first, and loaded them into the large cubicles right inside the doorway to the department. Then she marked the request with the cubicle number.
She carried the papers to the reception area. Normally, the college student Meredith would then contact the person who submitted the request and let him or her know from what cubby to pull the items. But, she had gone home for Thanksgiving break, so Calla slipped into the desk chair and sent several interoffice emails then went back to her stack of requests and started pulling files. By the time she felt like she’d made a dent in the work, Francine brought her several more requests. With just the two of them working in a department usually staffed by four, and at busy times, five or six, they worked quickly, not talking, just trying to stay on top of the requests. As the morning faded, they slowed down, giving them a chance to tackle the baskets of “to be filed” and the returned plans and specifications that had come in since the morning.
Slipping earbuds into her ears, she found an upbeat 80’s music station on her phone and turned the volume up so that she could drown out the world and just file.
Ian leaned against the filing cabinet and watched Calla dance to the music pumping out of her earbuds. He could faintly hear it even from several feet away. It fascinated him how efficiently she worked while bopping her head around and shifting her shoulders to the rhythmic beat. He felt a silly grin cross his face while he waited for her to spin or turn and twist and see him, in a way hoping that it took a little bit longer so he could continue the sheer enjoyment of just watching her.
However, within seconds of that thought, she hit a file drawer with her hip to shut it, and turned and spotted him, halting mid-swing. She immediately stopped moving and yanked the earbuds out of her ears.
“You’re really going to have to quit sneaking up on me like that,” she mumbled, obviously embarrassed.
“Well, for one thing, I like what I see and,” he watched her cheeks turn cherry red, “for another thing, I wasn’t sneaking.”
“You were sneaking. A little.”
He laughed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have your music so loud. How do you know when someone is here?”
She tapped the pocket of her pants. He could see the outline of her phone. “We normally have a receptionist, and she texts me.” She looked at her watch. “Is it seriously 12:30? Wow, we’ve been so busy this morning that the time has flown by.”
“Yes, and I only have about twenty minutes.” With the Thanksgiving holiday this week, he had a last-minute meeting piled on top of a crisis meeting as people prepared to take a four-day holiday. “I just wanted to stop by and beg out of lunch. How about tomorrow?”
He could see the disappointment on her face and wondered why that filled him with some sort of male pride. “I would love that. Can I bring it?”
“I’m happy to take you out.”
“You took me out last time. Yesterday. Remember? I’d like to think it’s my turn.”
Deciding not to argue, yet, he nodded. “Okay. Sounds good. I have to go. I’m very sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow and make it up to you.”
As he turned to leave, she said, “Where?”
Already thinking about the agenda for his upcoming meeting, he frowned when he looked back at her. “What?”
“See me where? Where do you want to meet? What time?”
“Ah, uh, coffee shop downstairs? Eleven-thirty? I’ll check with Penny and confirm.”
He turned away again and headed back to the elevator. As he stepped in, the phone in his hand vibrated. He answered it almost immediately. “Hi, Al.”
“Hey. You coming to the one o’clock?”
He pressed the button for the seventh floor. “Yes. Headed to get my tablet now.”
“I have Reubens from that place on Peachtree.”
Wishing he could enjoy what Calla had packed this morning instead of corned beef and sauerkraut on rye, he nevertheless thanked him. “Sounds great. I’ll grab cash when I go to my office, too.”
“Get a couple bottles of water, too.”
“Water, too, got it.”
Five minutes later, they sat alone in the conference room and bit into their sandwiches. Ian ate quickly, knowing that within ten minutes, the room would fill with people. “How was that dinner Saturday?” Al asked in-between bites. “With the flower girl?”
Ian contemplated the question as he chewed. “Tell you the truth? Incredible.”
“And, did she properly thank you?”
Ian caught the tone of the question and answered the question Al didn’t ask. “Not like that at all. The first time we even held hands was to bless the meal. She’s something else.”
“I see.” Al grinned. “Do go on.”
How much to elaborate? How did he explain to his best friend that he felt like he’d waited for someone like Calla Vaughn his entire life? “She’s an amazing cook. She went to culinary school a few years ago. And, honestly, I feel like I’ll never get tired of having conversations with her. She’s bright, funny, kind of vivacious.” He paused and caught Al staring at him with a huge grin on his face. “What?”
“Brother, I’ve known you since I was seventeen. I have never heard you talk like that about any girl, ever.”
Ian set his sandwich down and wiped his buttery fingers on a paper napkin. “I never felt like this about any girl, ever. We had lunch yesterday after church, coffee this morning…” He picked up his water bottle and sat back in the conference room chair. “I’ve had a heck of a time concentrating today. All I want to do is go down to files and talk with her. Listen to her. Talk with her some more.”
“Mmm hmm.” Al nodded, rather knowingly. “I hear you. Can’t wait to meet her myself.”
“I bet you’ll recognize her when you see her. You’ll like her.”
“Doesn’t matter if I like her. She just has to pass the grandma test.”
Ian’s expression turned sharp. “That isn’t funny.”
“Oh, I know it’s not funny,” Al agreed. “It’s not funny at all. I failed the grandma test. Remember?”
Ian opened his mouth to reply, but the conference door swung open and Brian, an architect in the firm, entered. “Smells like sauerkraut in here,” he observed as he pushed a cart full of four-inch bound specifications for an upcoming central Alabama sports arena. As he reached the end of the table, he started placing a specifications book at each seat. “Those from that new place on Peachtree?”
Al nodded as he took his last bite. “They are.”
“I hit them up last week. Man, I haven’t had sandwiches that good since I left Miami.”
“Word’s getting out, too. Line was twenty minutes long today.” He wrapped up his paper and balled it up. “Worth every minute.”
“I hear you.”
Ian finished his sandwich and pushed away from the table. “I need to check in with Penny. Be back by one.” He stepped out through the door on the side of his office into the sea of cubicles and, thankfully, saw Penny at her desk. “Penny, am I free tomorrow at 11:30? My ca
lendar looks good. I want to make sure there’s been nothing last minute that hasn’t propagated to me yet.”
She pulled up the program on her computer and looked up at him. “Clear.”
“Great. Schedule me in firm for lunch at 11:30. Unless Daddy Dixon appears, grab that half hour and growl. Okay?”
She smiled as if she knew he had lunch plans with Calla Vaughn tomorrow at eleven-thirty. “Sure. Where?”
“Coffee shop downstairs.” He looked at his watch. “Have to get back to the meeting.”
“You have a two-thirty after this one,” she reminded him. He gave her a thumb’s up as he went back to the conference room.
As she pulled her bag out of her desk drawer, the phone at her elbow rang. Answering it almost absently, Calla checked in her bag to make sure she had the keys to lock the file room door. “File room, Calla Vaughn,” she answered.
“Hello, Callie.” At the sound of her stepmother, Becky Vaughn’s voice mispronouncing her name, Calla’s hands turned ice cold.
Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she demanded, “What do you want?”
“Oh, I’m just calling to let you know that if you were planning on coming home to daddy’s house for Thanksgiving, I’ll be in Cozumel. Jimmy, my boyfriend – you’ve met Jimmy, haven’t you? – we’re leaving tomorrow.”
She’d met Jimmy. At her father’s funeral. “Cozumel? Did Jimmy suddenly win the lottery?”
“No, silly. I got a new credit card last week. It’s just dying for me to use it up. Ta!”
Becky didn’t call her to keep her from coming “home” for Thanksgiving. She had no home. She’d sold that house before the headstone even came in for her father’s grave. Becky called to make sure that Calla knew about another credit card in Calla’s name.
Putting her head on her desk, a sob that she’d held back for far too long escaped her. No matter how hard she worked or how hard she tried, she would never get out of this pit. Her father’s marriage to Becky had ruined her entire life, destroyed any possible good future. She just didn’t realize the extent of it until after her father died.
