She let go of me, and my skin prickled in response.
The smile fell off her face and welcomed those clouds that sometimes shadowed her sunshine features.
“No, I mean. It’s brilliant, but unusual…” I added in one quick breath.
“I thought it might help you focus…” She looked far more unsure than she had when I’d walked in.
My chest fluttered in a way it hadn’t in years. I stomped on the feeling before the butterfly could take flight. “I think so too.” I sat down on my side of the office.
She excitedly ran over to hers.
“You can’t see me, can you? I’ll bet you can’t even see my flowers.”
I couldn’t.
“How will I know if you need me, especially if I’m wearing my headset?” I asked.
She rolled her wheely chair to the edge of the divider, and her grinning face appeared. “Like this.” She giggled. It was an undeniably cute giggle.
Oh no. That was not a reasonable or appropriate thought. Perhaps this divider was exactly what I needed.
“All right. Let’s give this a chance.” I blew out a long breath. “Thank you. I think it’s great.”
“But,” she said, wheeling all the way over to my desk, “before you start focusing, could we take a look at my alignment? Then when you tear it apart, I can get to work, and you can do whatever it is you do while you’re frowning so deeply.”
“Good idea.” I walked around to her side of the office and looked at her screen where she had the design open.
“Zoom in,” I said.
She did.
The design wasn’t perfect. But I didn’t expect it to be.
“It’s a decent first try,” I said, and even though she’d teased me about tearing it apart, I could see criticism would knock out the last bit of light in that smile. I softened my voice and tried to be as gentle as possible. “We could do better on the grades. These are acceptable in theory, but in reality, the steeper grades could encourage speeding.”
“Mr. Anders told me to reduce the amount of cut and fill because it’s expensive.” She tilted her head upward, and it brought her too close to me. “He said the project is over budget.”
Too, too close. It almost made me dizzy. Why did she smell like a cinnamon bun?
I stepped away and nodded. “Um, yeah. He’s not wrong. But one should always choose life over money. Anders grew up in a nice area with nice roads and walkways. He probably had everything he’d needed. It’s sometimes hard for the rich to see what’s happening to those with less.”
I slammed my mouth shut. That was personal. Even more so considering her family’s wealth. “I didn’t mean to imply…”
“It’s okay. You’re right,” she whispered, looking at me and making my chest feel a little tighter. “Up until a few years ago, I had no idea what things cost.” Her voice dipped toward the end, and her eyes skittered away from mine.
What happened a few years ago?I cleared my throat, swallowing the question. There was a sadness in the lilt of her voice. I wanted to ask her about it. If I knew the problem… Maybe I could fix it.
She opened a map of the area and zoomed in. “There are no sidewalks in this area, so I didn’t think there’d be a high number of pedestrians. Mr. Anders said anyone who walked there would know the risks, and the developer wouldn’t be at fault.”
Anger stirred in my stomach. Cold and hard. “That’s true.” I took a deep breath, but before I could stop myself, I said, “But it’s not right… is it?”
She shook her head.
It was enough to stop there, but for some reason, I wanted Elizabeth to know more. To know why I felt so strongly about this. “My father was killed in a hit-and-run, and had there been a safe sidewalk with a curbed edge, it would not have happened. But because he should have known the risks, he paid for it with his life. There was no payout because the developer, as you said, was not at fault.”
Years of buried feelings resurfaced as I spoke those words for the first time since college.
Her hands flew up, muffling her gasp. “I am so sorry.” The pain in her voice was more than my own.
