* * *
My flat shoesdidn’t click on the pavement like I always imagined they would. It was more of a sliding sound as I trudged my way down the city streets in my practical shoes—shoes with drops of soup on them, I noticed, upon closer inspection. I wasn’t wearing the high heels all the women in the romantic comedies wore as they gracefully clip-clopped with other career-obsessed natives into their fancy office buildings. By this time in the afternoon, most people were done with their workday, the shine worn off of their faces, hair limp, and grabbing takeout on their way home.
I checked my watch. I would be fifteen minutes early at this pace, so I slowed down next to a coffee cart that was parked on the sidewalk. The temptation to grab a cup for the burst of energy I needed was strong after a day of working in the cafe. Instead, I kept my pennies where they were and stared at the impressive building before me. From what I understood, my aunt’s cleaning service was contracted to clean a few floors of the massive building. Aunt Cathy’s business was a new company and occupied a small office space on the fourteenth floor of the huge skyscraper. Well, maybe not a skyscraper. Not sure Salt Lake City actually had any of those, but the tall gray building with dark windows seemed impressive.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Mira:Don’t let anyone tell you that morticians aren’t sexy!
Me:It’s the black loafers, isn’t it? Does the trick every time.
Mira:Send me pics if you find anything interesting.
Me:Like what?
Mira:I don’t know, but speaking as a nurse, people can be disgusting. Just keep the phone handy.
Me:Does Brock know how weird you are?
Mira:He does, and he loves it.
Me:Putting my phone away now.
Mira:Good luck. Can’t wait to hear all about it.
I had been slowly inchingmy way down the sidewalk, texting Mira, when an older gentleman, probably in his mid-fifties, held open the door for me. I took that as my cue to stop procrastinating and stepped inside, giving him a grateful smile as we made our way toward the elevators.
A group of men and women looking very much like executives of some sort milled around outside the door, talking loudly but looking as though they weren’t planning on going inside, so the older gentleman placed his hand in front of the open elevator and motioned me to enter first.
“Thank you, again.” I smiled kindly.
“You’re welcome.” The man stepped beside me, his hand hovering over the buttons. “What floor?”
“Fourteen.” I took in a deep breath and expelled it quietly.
“Oh, do you work at RDM?”
“No.” I smiled as the door began to close. “Cathy’s Cleaning Service. They share the same floor.”
He raised his bushy eyebrows, taking me in with a closer look. Probably noting my casual attire in a building full of suits and silks. “Oh. Well, that’s nice.”
My reply was cut short when, at the last second, an arm attached to a business suit stopped the door from closing.
A man in his thirties, with reddish brown hair, smiled politely at us, his eyes impassively scanning over our faces. “Sorry. Is there room for, like, twenty-seven more?”
My older friend laughed. “As long as you guys in the fancy clothes aren’t lawyers.”
The entire group of executives, mostly men but a few women in pantsuits and dresses, began filling the cracks inside the elevator. The older gentleman and I stepped back together in the corner to allow more room.
The younger man laughed. “No lawyers in this bunch.” He motioned toward the other men spilling inside. “I’ll bet most of these suits are rented.” He nodded toward someone by the door. “Pretty sure Mike’s is an old prom suit.”
The blond-haired man in question laughed and craned his head to make eye contact with the other man. “Plaid polyester never goes out of style. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
There was some chuckling and a brief pause as we all faced forward, waiting for the door to close.
The man named Mike, with the blond spiky hair, who was indeed wearing a bright-green plaid polyester suit, caused a wave of familiarity to come over me. I was tucked away in the corner, crowded behind shoulders, but I knew him. I just couldn’t place how or when I had ever spoken to him. My eyes skittered around the side profile of the tall, brown-haired man he was speaking with standing next to him.
When the man turned his face, my heart immediately began racing.
