“I know.” And I also knew I sounded like a spoiled brat, anxiety making me even more pointed than usual. “Sorry. You’re trying to be helpful.”
“And it might help if you sit down, try relaxing.” Rory patted the small scrap of metal flooring next to him.
“I’m fine.” Another lie, but sitting next to Rory felt like an admission we were in for a long wait. Not to mention, he’d been in the process of asking me out when the elevator stopped. For all that I found some people hard to read, Rory wore his entire range of emotions on his expressive face. There was no guesswork with him. He’d been flirty for months, but I didn’t date coworkers, a fact I’d need to explain once we were out of the immediate situation.
At the moment, though, survival took precedence. I pulled out my phone, but all I got was a helpfulNo Signalmessage. “Darn it. No bars.”
“Me either.” Rory held up his own phone. “Guess you’re stuck with me for conversation.”
“I’m sure there are worse fates.” I offered the attempt at a joke, but I wasn’t surprised when Rory didn’t laugh. I lacked my father’s talent for effortless joke delivery. Rory did, however, keep right on smiling. “How are you always so cheerful? We could be here for hours. And you don’t seem fazed.”
“I don’t let small stuff get to me.” Rory leaned back against the elevator wall. He glanced over at me, but I’d spent enough time around Rory to know he’d keep the conversation going if I simply waited. And he didn’t disappoint. “I’m not going to bore you with my life story, but I was once a client of CASA as a kid.Thanks to my amazing advocate and others, I finally landed in a great foster-adopt placement with a family of die-hard optimists here in Mount Hope. I’ve seen some of the worst the world has to offer, and I’ve also seen the best. Trapped in the elevator with the hot new attorney? Very low on the annoyance meter.”
“I’m not hot.” Out of Rory’s entire tale, that was the one tidbit my brain seized on.
“Oops. Forget I said that. And forget?—”
“Simpson monitoring here.” Another crackly message from Sonya blessedly cut Rory off. “The building power remains off. A transformer blew nearby. We’re in contact with maintenance as well as the fire department for options to get you out.”
“Thank you.” My gratitude was genuine because I appreciated the interruption, even if I hated the message.
“And thankyoufor your continued patience.” Sonya had the same tone as if we were on hold with the electric company. “Hold tight.”
“We’re holding.” Rory didn’t seem anywhere near as restless and irritated as I was. He gazed up at me with soft eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I admire the optimism. And your story.” I wasn’t about to revisit his hot comment with a ten-foot pole, but I couldn’t let the rest of it pass unacknowledged. “It’s good to know some of our kids become success stories.”
“They do.” Rory beamed at me. “And thank you for calling me a success story.”
“You are. You’re in graduate school for social work as well as working here. And you seem…well-adjusted? Happy?” I searched for the right compliment. His perpetually positive attitude was one of the things I liked most about him, right along with his lack of drama. In a small office, gossip could travel like wildfire, but Rory wasn’t the sort to involve himself in petty disputes or relay secrets.
“I’m not so sure on well-adjusted.” Rory had a musical laugh. “Thank God for therapy. But I’m happy. My present life is pretty good.”
“That’s the sort of outcome I hope for with each case.”
“Can I ask what drew you to the job?” Rory’s tone was cautious, with good reason. Like him, a lot of CASA staff, as well as those working with the resources we partnered with, had once been in the child welfare system. However, I didn’t have a straightforward explanation.
“My parents would like that answer too.” I gave an uncomfortable laugh. “My mom is a big-firm corporate lawyer in Portland. My dad owns a restaurant in Alberta. I had a pretty happy, well-off childhood, honestly.”
“I know Alberta. I got a coffee at People’s Cup when I was in Portland last week.” Rory nodded encouragingly. “And plenty of people with decent childhoods end up working in child welfare too.”
“I didn’t see my privilege until I did a semester at the family law clinic at law school,” I admitted. I’d grown up in something of a bubble. Good schools. Right to college, which was paid for by my parents. I hadn’t realized the rarity of my circumstances until I’d had broader exposure to others. “I had a case get under my skin.”
“Some cases do that.” Rory shifted like he might want to touch me again, but luckily, our positions prevented that. I wasn’t sure I could handle his understanding right then.
“Yeah. It was a complicated domestic abuse case.” I couldn’t reveal more than that for privacy’s sake, but Rory was remarkably good at getting more details from me than most. “For the first time in my life, I felt needed. Like I could make a difference. Then, closer to graduation, the professor supervising the clinic told me about this opening. I shocked everyone when I took it.”
“Your mom wanted you to end up at her firm?” Rory guessed.
“It was an option among other firm jobs.” I pursed my lips. I hated sounding even more spoiled. “To her credit, she’s supported this opportunity even if she treats it more like a phase.”
“And you want your parents to take it more seriously.” Rory nodded like that was a conclusion, not a question.
“Yeah. You’re rather perceptive.” I envied his easy ability to read people correctly. Also, my chest was strangely warm. Rory saw more than even my mom, and she had known me my whole life.
“Thanks. You’re very…professional in personality, so it makes sense you want the people important to you to give appropriate weight to your passions.” Rory spoke slowly as if selecting each word from a pile of possibilities, careful not to offend, another skill I sometimes lacked.
“Thanks. I am passionate about my work.” I’d take Rory calling me professional over uptight or stiff. “And usually, my parents do take me seriously. They were rather accommodating of my elephant phase.”
