Eyes of a Stanger

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Why don’t we drive up, then? We’ll make a weekend of it.”

  And they had. Tawnia had enjoyed herself thoroughly, especially since Christian hadn’t come up once in the conversation. They’d driven over every one of the ten Willamette bridges in the city—several times—ate crab cakes until they nearly burst, and then danced until the wee hours of the morning, barely putting in a few hours of sleep before driving back to Nevada.

  They laughed and talked as though they would be together forever.

  As if.

  “Tawnia?”

  She blinked, looking at Dustin but not really seeing him. Her hand was already reaching inside her purse for her phone. Her fingers tightened over it, but she didn’t set down her files. Calling Bret about the bridge would be an excuse. Just an excuse. She didn’t need him, and he certainly didn’t need her. Wasn’t that part of why she left Nevada?

  She slowly replaced the phone. “Just thinking.”

  “Atta girl. You want to get a drink? We could brainstorm a bit.”

  She shook her head. What she really wanted was to be alone. “Raincheck?” she asked. “It really has been a long day.”

  “Terrible, you mean. And a drink is just the way to relax. Better yet, you need food. I know a little place nearby that serves the best homemade meat pies, even if they do label them organic. If you don’t think they’re the best you’ve ever had, I’ll buy you dinner every night for a week. I promise, you’ll love them.”

  Her stomach growled at the thought, and suddenly going to her empty bungalow to eat a boring TV dinner didn’t seem so appetizing. “You buying?”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “Of course. But I’ll get my payback. I’m going to pick that brilliant brain of yours.”

  “Who said I was brilliant?”

  “Our boss. He told everyone before you came. We were all jealous.”

  Tawnia blushed with the compliment. “Fine. Pick my brain then. Just so long as you don’t pick my teeth. Now that would be gross.”

  “Brilliant and witty.”

  “Yeah, right. You forgot beautiful.”

  “No, I didn’t. I didn’t want to be forward.” He offered his arm, and she placed her files and purse in her briefcase and snapped it shut.

  Her office led into a large outer room, where the others on her team had their desks partially separated by room dividers to provide a degree of privacy. In the corner near the door to her office sat a long table where they would plan their strategies. Two of her team members were there now—Shanna Woodworth, the copywriter, and Sean Coombs, the graphic designer. Both were staring at a laptop on the table, but Sean jumped up as she exited her office.

  “Tawnia—hi. Leaving?” He was in his mid-twenties, with the awkward, gangly body of a teenager and mournful brown eyes that seemed to follow her wherever she went. There was a touch of worship in the gaze that was flattering to Tawnia’s ego, but already she was fervently hoping his crush wouldn’t become an annoyance.

  Shanna cast a smile at Tawnia as she pulled Sean back down into his seat. “See, that’s spelled wrong. Didn’t you take any English classes?” Shanna had short platinum blonde hair and a complexion so smooth it brought to mind a porcelain doll. Her figure was decidedly rounded, but she was so striking and dressed so well that Tawnia found herself envious of her figure. There was a woman who knew when she looked good and didn’t need a scale to tell her she was beautiful. “How’d you get this job if you can’t spell?” Shanna added in disgust.

  “Because I’m good,” Sean shot back. Spoken with all the confidence of youth.

  Shanna rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Change it.” She leaned back in her chair, bringing a foot to the edge of the table—black high heels that for a second drew every eye. “The copy wasn’t this way when we gave it to you.”

  “I got distracted.” Sean glanced at Tawnia and then began typing furiously, a faint red tinging his face.

  Shanna blew out a sigh. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tawnia said into the awkward silence. After her management meeting in the morning, she’d scheduled a meeting for the next day so her team members could give a rundown on their progress.

  Shanna stood. “I’m going home, too.”

  “What about this?” Sean protested.

  “Your problem. You can show us tomorrow at the meeting.” Shanna blew him a kiss, smiled at Tawnia, and headed to her cubicle in the far corner.

  Tawnia returned the smile, shaking her head and exchanging an amused glance with Dustin. She felt a surge of gratitude for her new job. I can do this. I like these people. In a few weeks, she knew they’d become like family.

  Family. Her mother and father. They’d likely be flying to Portland soon to check out her new accommodations—and to tell her what a mistake she was making, moving even farther away from home. She heaved an internal sigh.

  Dustin’s little restaurant, Smokey’s, was located one block over and half a block down. To save themselves the trouble of parking two cars, they walked. The streets were filled with traffic, though the sidewalks had few pedestrians. The air was still very warm, though the main heat of the day had passed. The buildings, the architecture, the street lights—everything was unfamiliar to her, and yet she felt she belonged. It felt right, somehow.

  “You’re very quiet,” Dustin said.

  “Just taking it all in. It’s nice here.”

  “Bit busy.”

  “Not like Las Vegas.”

  He chuckled. “Is anything like Las Vegas? Ah, here we are.” Smokey’s sat on a street opposite a slew of smaller stores—shoes, music, antiques, herbs, dresses, children’s wear, a bicycle shop. Soon she would investigate every one.

  Smokey’s was nothing like she had imagined. Not a dark bar with a few greasy tables but a light airy place with many spotless tables and a long snack bar along the wall opposite the kitchen area. The place smelled heavenly. “Mmm,” Tawnia said. “I like it already.”

  “Wait until you taste the food.”

  They had come during a lull, so a young blonde waitress immediately came to take their order. “Did you do something to your hair?” the girl asked Tawnia. “I like it.”

  “It’s always been this way.” Tawnia smoothed down a length of her straight hair.

  “Wasn’t it red on top, and short?” The waitress looked at her more closely and shook her head, causing her ponytail to swing slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m probably confusing you with someone else.”

  “I’m new in town,” Tawnia told her. “But if your pies are anything like my friend here says they are, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

  “Great! And keep in mind that we’re the only organic restaurant in the area. All of our menu choices, with the exception of a few desserts, are made of completely organic ingredients. Even our desserts are made with as many organic ingredients as possible. Much better for you.” With a smile, the girl left.

  “You must have one of those faces,” Dustin said.

  “I guess.”

  Their pies were brought in only a few minutes, which told Tawnia the restaurant was preparing for a rush of customers. Even now the tables were beginning to fill up with a mixture of colorful clothes and corporate suits.

  “This really is good.” Tawnia ate with unabashed enthusiasm. In fact, she’d like to order another to take home, but maybe she shouldn’t reveal her voracious appetite to Dustin just yet.

  “So, you’re going for the bridge account, I can tell.” He smiled at her.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Your eyes. You look like you’re thinking. Plus, I’m not used to being ignored. So what’s the plan? Soldiers dropping out of an airplane carrying signs that say ‘Our bridges are so safe I dare to parachute down to one.’ ”

  She chuckled. “Not quite. Too subtle for me.”

  “Ha, ha. That’s right, though. Can’t hit people over the head with it. Subtlety really is what’s needed at this point. There’s what,
like twenty-three dead?”

  Her smile died. “Twenty-four. Shanna heard it on the radio after lunch. They found another body.”

  Dustin shook his head, his brow creased. “Still hard to believe. There has to be something more to this whole mess.”

  “You mean than just a boat hitting the bridge?”

  “Engineers plan for things like human error. There are redundancies. In my view, it doesn’t make sense.”

  Tawnia nodded. “I know an engineer, and he’s like that. Careful.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  She made her face expressionless, forcing a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “The brother of a guy I used to work with in Nevada. Really nice guys.” Was her voice too casual?

  Dustin smiled. “I was thinking if we had an interview with an engineer, a face the public could trust, that might be just the thing for this account.”

  Tawnia thought of Bret. He would be the perfect subject for an interview, though it would be out of the question since he wasn’t employed by Multnomah County. Besides, he would be too serious. People would believe him, but he wouldn’t catch their imagination. No. They needed someone real, someone closer to the heart of the people than an engineer.

  “I think a victim would make a better face for TV and radio. If you could find someone who actually was on the bridge and whose life changed because of it, and yet they still put their trust in the county . . . Now that would be something to grab the imagination.” She stopped eating and stared into the space above Dustin’s left ear. “The person would have to be just right, of course, and the wording perfect. You wouldn’t want it to seem manipulated. And you’d back that up with some connection to the new logo and everything else we’d create. Not sure what.” Maybe a color the victim was wearing? Or would it be enough to have the new logo appear after the spot? Yes. Probably. Unless she could come up with something better.

  She went on, “The county should support a few local events as well. Maybe sponsor a little public TV. Then we publicize those acts in the media. That’s free advertising we shouldn’t pass up.”

  “Great ideas.”

  The waitress appeared at the table. “Did you guys want dessert?”

  “None for me, thanks,” Dustin replied at the same time Tawnia said, “I’ll have a piece of chocolate cake, please.” She grinned at him and shrugged. She wasn’t going to make excuses for herself. He was the one with the spare tire beginning around his waist, though the dress shirt hid it well.

  The piece of cake was large and covered in hot fudge and whipped cream. She ate the whole thing, not offering him any. It’s just too soon to be sharing food, she reasoned to herself, and if he’d wanted some, he would have ordered a slice and kept me company. Besides, it was good.

  While she finished her cake, he kept up a steady stream of conversation about the bridge account, asking her opinion on every angle. Finally, she set down her fork. “That was good. I wish I could say it wasn’t, so you’d have to buy dinner all week, but alas, my parents taught me not to lie.”

  “I think I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a woman eat so much.”

  She shrugged. “I was hungry.” She was always hungry, but she didn’t need to mention that and, fortunately, she didn’t need to battle the weight issue yet, though at thirty-two, she suspected that day was just around the corner. Until then, she would enjoy her metabolism and her size six pants.

  “Is something wrong with your eye?”

  She must have been blinking her left eye again. “It’s just my contact. It’s bothering me.” She’d have to throw it away and get another one.

  “Contact?” He peered closer, but she averted her face. She didn’t want to talk about it. Being new at a company was hard enough without all her differences being discovered from the beginning.

  He had already paid the waitress, but now he pulled out money for a tip. Tawnia was pleased to see that he was generous. She’d been a waitress in college and knew all about the sore feet and low wages.

  They walked back to the office, where they collected their cars from the underground parking lot. “Thanks,” Tawnia told him. “It was fun.”

  “I’m glad. See you tomorrow.”

  She nodded and climbed inside her Pontiac. The air-conditioning still wasn’t fixed, so she rolled down the windows. Twenty minutes later she was at her bungalow. She’d take out her contact, put on her pajamas, and go over her files until she was too tired to think. That should put an end to the sleeplessness she’d experienced since arriving in Portland, caused by the fact that every time she closed her eyes, she saw the collapse of the bridge and the newscaster interviewing the victims.

  Seven still missing.

  Her phone rang as she was preparing a snack to keep her company on the front porch. “Hi, Dad,” she said.

  “You get the air-conditioning fixed?”

  “Not yet. I have an appointment tomorrow. I’m dropping it off at lunch and should have it by the end of the day.” She still hadn’t figured out how she’d get home from work if they had to keep it longer than promised.

  “Your mother wants to know if you wore the red suit?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you act confident?”

  She rolled her eyes at the statement. “Yes, Dad.” She was always confident—they’d raised her to be a high achiever. Confidence wasn’t her problem, except in her relationship with them. But she’d learned to be a good actress in front of her parents, or reap the inevitable lecture.

  Her mother got on the phone next. “You’re wearing your contact, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because it might not be wise to stand out in that sort of way right in the beginning.”

  Not for the first time Tawnia thought it must bother her mother no end that her only child was less than perfect. As a teen she’d even wondered if her parents would have given her back to the adoption agency if her eye color had been fully developed at birth.

  “I just got home, and I’m really tired. I still have a stack of files to read tonight.”

  Her mother didn’t appear to hear. “It looks like we’ll have a tornado tonight. It reminded me of you. You always loved tornados.”

  Tawnia had always longed for them to take her away to experience adventure, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Once, back in Kansas when a tornado was expected, she’d purposely left a hose unattached to the outside faucet. Instead of dancing by the house, held by the connection, it had been dragged up and away, a flying snake disappearing toward a new adventure. She could almost imagine following it. But she would never tell her mother about that desire. Her parents had done a fine job raising her, and she knew she should be grateful. Many adopted children didn’t have it half so good. If she’d stayed with her birth mother, who knew where she’d be now?

  Yet why was she so restless? What adventure had she hoped to find? Five states in ten years, and she still didn’t know. It didn’t have anything to do with being adopted. At least she didn’t think so.

  In her teens she’d gone through a secret phase of searching for her birth parents, as did many other children with closed adoptions. She had no success. Her parents were characteristically silent on the matter, and she hadn’t probed for fear of hurting them. Almost no one who knew their family was even aware that she wasn’t their biological child. The phase had passed before she went to college.

  She turned her mind back to the conversation. “If it looks bad, you’d better get down to the basement.”

  “We will. Just to be safe. Don’t forget to charge your phone tonight. I was so worried about you this weekend.”

  “I will. I bought a new charger.” The old one had disappeared somewhere during her journey—probably left at the hotel where she’d stayed Thursday night. She’d checked her voice mail, but thankfully only her parents had left messages while the phone had been out of commission, so she hadn’t missed anything vital.

  “That’s good, honey. Take care. We’l
l call you in a few days.”

  I know. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Tawnia blew out a sigh and hung up. Going to the front porch, she sat on the rocking chair, glad that the cushions were clean and comfortable. Her files sat on her lap, but she didn’t open them. Instead, she stared over the tiny lawn at the house across the street. Why was she in Portland? Would she finally discover what she was apparently searching for, or would next year find her moving again?

  She might have stayed in Nevada if things had worked out with Bret. But she couldn’t think about that now. Opening the top file, she went to work.

  Chapter 5

  Autumn stared blankly at the man, trying to place him. Had he been a customer at her shop? Or perhaps he’d been an acquaintance of her father’s.

  “Of course you know me!” He spoke as though it was very important that she did.

  Had she suffered a head trauma in the accident? No. She remembered everyone else in her life. Or at least she thought she did. “I’m sorry. I really don’t think I know you.” Turning her face from him, she gazed out over the water again. The connected feeling was still there, and while it lived, so did her hope for her father.

  “Tawnia.” He grabbed her arm.

  She gasped and pulled back. Tears flooded her eyes at the sudden pain.

  He dropped his hands to his side. “Did I hurt you?”

  She blinked away the tears, struggling not to show how much she was hurting. “I twisted my arm, that’s all. But honestly, I don’t know you, and I just want to be left alone.” She waited a few seconds to add in a soft voice, “Please.”

  “You don’t remember Nevada?”

  Autumn had been to Nevada several times on business, as well as many other western states, but she hadn’t known this man. Or . . . she gazed deeply into his eyes. Could he be related to her somehow? Could he be part of the connected feeling she’d been experiencing? Maybe he was a half-brother or a cousin she’d never met. The problem with being adopted was that you never knew.

  He reached out to her again, stopping short of actually touching her. “You don’t remember Nevada. What about my brother? What about Christian?”