“Is your cut all better?” He gestured towards the pale arch of her foot.
“Yes, thanks Doc.”
His cheeks hurt from their inability to stop smiling. He guided her into the conference room, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He watched her survey the glass case filled with trophies, and his papers scattered around his laptop.
“Vegan, hope that’s okay,” she explained, pointing to the bag he was hefting onto the table.
“Hen hao.”Very good.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, waving at the coffee machine near the mini fridge. Like a hotel, it was stocked with Pellegrino and sodas.
“Sparkling water would be great, thanks.”
He twisted open a green bottle and poured a tumbler-full for her.
“What’s keeping you here tonight?” she asked, rings glittering on her fingers as she unpacked containers of food.
“Our brash CEO agreed to a July pitch date.” He pointed at himself and made Orchid chuckle.
“Want to show me the work?” She gestured towards the printed papers stacked on the table.
He picked up a colorful page and read aloud. “Get young millennials to video their brand experiences by engaging them through key opinion leaders.”
Orchid fake yawned. “Bo-ring. Tell me one brand that isn’t doing that. Are you trying to lose the pitch because you’re too busy with other stuff?”
He opened his mouth to protest and then humor started to bubble up. It rumbled and she joined him, until they were both full-blown laughing.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, the words slipping out.
Her hands stopped over a casserole dish. “It’s good to see you, too. You’ve been well?”
He aimed for honesty. Because she deserved nothing less. “Better now.”
“It’s good you’ll be with family.”
It struck him that she was an only child. No siblings. Just her own resilience. No wonder she was so strong.
She looked at him like she was assessing his earnestness.
Phoenix’s stomach growled like a wounded animal.
“Let’s serve this before you faint,” she said, and peeled lids off the containers.
He stared down at the steaming food. “Hey, are those reusable containers?”
She beamed. “Yup. I convinced some local restaurants to try these to reduce single-use plastics. Customers pay a deposit fee, then they get it back when they return them. After that, everything gets sterilized and reused. I branded it Circ.”
He swept a hand through the air. “Angling for a Cirque du Soleil tie-in, huh?”
“Quit teasing. People totally get the circularity reference. I’ve got a dozen restaurants signed up, and we’re tracking usage to see when it pays back.”
“Any results yet?”
“Some of them are actually seeing foot traffic increase. Which makes complete sense. Lots of people have been feeling guilty about takeout waste, but they haven’t known what to do about it.”
“Honestly, you’re brilliant. Do you know what you’d love?”
“Hanging out with you?” she blurted.
