She looks up and catches my eyes. “Oh, hi, Cora. What are you doing on this side of town?”
“Just had a client meeting.”
Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Good.”
There’s a long pause.
This isn’t like me. I always have something to say, but I’m at a loss for words.
Thankfully, she puts me out of my misery and addresses the elephant in the room: “Listen, I know you’re probably upset with us, but,” she sighs, “my hands were tied. The board loves the work you’ve done for us, and the design you presented for the auditorium was masterful, truly.” Her throat works as she hesitates. “And, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but if it was up to me, I would have hired you again for this project. But the board didn’t want to take the risk.”
The risk—also known as The Lawsuit.
They didn’t want to be associated with the architectural firm tied up in an enormous legal battle.
I knew it, and yet hearing it directly from her, it stings all over again.
Solemnly, I nod. “I understand, Maureen. But if there’s any way for me to prove myself, I’ll do it. Continuing to work with the arts center would be an honor, and I’m not just saying that because I want the money. I want our work, our designs, to mean something. I want them to stand out and showcase our community. Knowing Define is losing touch with its city and the way it’s shaped… that’s why losing this project hurt the most.”
Maureen gives me a sad smile and touches my forearm. “I’m sorry, Cora. Really.”
“Large americano for Mreen!” The barista calls out.
She lets out a breath and steps forward to grab her coffee cup and comes back to face me one last time. “I wish you the absolute best, Cora. I’ll make sure future project bids are still sent out to your firm. And I wish you all the best in your lawsuit.”
“Thank you.” I give her a sarcastic grin, “I wish you the best in your future renovations, with whatever subpar firm you choose.”
She gives me an unexpected laugh as she shifts her purse strap and gives me a little cheer motion with her coffee. “Good luck, Cora.”
“See ya, Maureen.”
She walks out of the shop and turns to give me one more wave as she strides down the sidewalk.
“Small praline latte for Dora!”
I roll my eyes at the incorrect name. I’m going to need a stronger brew.
I’m a zombie for the rest of the day, lost to my own thoughts around the lost auditorium project. Maureen and I may have left on good terms, but I’m still furious.
Jay has been in meetings all day and we’ve barely seen more than a passing glance of each other. He has plans to meet up with his cousin Isabelle after work today and Marco has clients until eight tonight, giving me the rare opportunity to see my mom by myself.
Well, rare these days.
When I get to the nursing home after work, my mom is sitting in her room, a book sitting in her lap as she stares out into the dark winter evening. There’s a vase of flowers sitting on the side table next to her.
Where did those come from?
I knock on the open door gently and her attention draws over to me. “Hello?”
She stands up, closing her book and setting it down before making her way over to me. She wraps me in a hug and I inwardly crumble. “Hi, scooter. I’m so glad to see you.”
Scooter.
I could cry.
That’s the nickname my parents have called me since I was a baby and decided I wasn’t going to crawl, I was going to scoot across the floor.
She remembers me today.
