We explored the site, and I made note of their progress and any potential problems we might face. Saunders left me in big trouble with this one.
As we neared the entrance, a bright red Mini Cooper pulled up. The door flung open, and Elizabeth sprang out.
Holding a scroll of drawings.
And wearing absolutely no PPE.
“Who isthat?” the resident engineer said.
“My engineer.” I shot him a warning glance before he could say anything stupid.
“Mr. Carden.” She walked up to me, her still-shaking hands extending the roll of drawings. “I printed a new set. It’s the latest ones. I cross-checked it against the coffee-stained plans.” Her face scrunched up, and her red cheeks made the small scattering of freckles disappear.
Something inside me softened unexpectedly as I took her in. Her copper-red hair had unraveled from the long ponytail she’d had earlier. Her gray eyes were still wide enough for me to see the whites around them, and the corner of her burgundy-painted lips twitched downward. Gone was the sunny disposition and sassy woman I’d come to expect.
I must have been far angrier than intended.
Stepping closer to her, I whispered, “I’m so sorry about earlier. You didn’t have to drive all the way here.” I took the drawings.
“Coo can handle it.” She flashed me a weak smile and gestured to her car.
Of course she’d named it.
“Thank you.” I squeezed my hands around the drawings, gratefulfor the set. It solved so many problems. I glanced back at her smile. I didn’t like that it was unsure. I didn’t like the fear still lining her voice.
Sighing skyward, I felt my walls being beaten down.
Manage your intern.
“You can join for the rest of the meeting, but you’re only allowed into the container and back into your car. You’re not dressed appropriately to go anywhere else on this site.”
“Really? Awesome!” she said with a little hop. Far too excited for such a boring meeting, but there was sunshine creeping back into her voice. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s part of my job.”
Looking at her on a good day was risky, and today was downright treacherous, but I couldn’t resist feeding off her enthusiasm. She made me feel some unlabeled feeling I’d never felt before.
I led her into the container and laid the drawings on the desk. Then I talked them through it. Twice. Because the first time, they were all looking at Elizabeth.
When my meetings were done, I could finally breathe. I took a slow drive back to the office, and on the way, I stopped at the pharmacy where I could refill my prescription. It also happened to have a delicious takeout place next door.
Zoya’s Xpress was the home of the best chicken salad sandwiches in town.
“My favorite customer!” the small Indian woman said as I stepped inside. I’d bet she said that to everyone. “Chicken salad? With a bit of heat?”
My stomach grumbled. I nodded and leaned against the doorframe of the tiny but clean hole-in-the-wall cafe. Driving and beingon-site always made me hungrier than usual. I shook my head thinking about Elizabeth driving up there in a wild panic with a roll of drawings.
Did she eat today?
I’d seen her eating at the Friday announcements where little sandwiches and cookies were offered. She didn’t seem to be allergic to sugar or dairy, and she once mentioned enjoying a chicken salad sandwich.
But she never ate at her desk, and she never left long enough to eat anywhere else either.
Why?
It wasn’t unusual that I’d noticed this. I noticed everything. This was a totally normal thing for me to notice.
Especially in the house I grew up in where my mother was always offering me—and anyone around us—food. There was nothing more important to her than ensuring people had eaten.
