The girl behind the reception desk recognizes me and gives a little wave. I shoulder my phone, with Claudia still droning on, and wave back. I head upstairs, toward the Manitoba Room, and am just passing through the door when she inhales, then starts again.
“Oh, Bridge, I’m inseriousneed of a drink or three.” I hear ice cubesrattle and realize she’s not joking. “Anyhoo! I got a call this morning, and they’re asking me to speed up the project. I know you’re working on it, but I need you to double down. Seems like you’re worrying so much about the new hardware, you can’t focus on what needs doing. By the way, nothing to worry about there. I’ve checked it all out, and we’re good.”
I want to interrupt and tell her I’m busy, but she barely comes up for air. In the past I have considered hanging up on her. Would she even notice?
“Listen, doll, I know this old building matters to you,” she continues, and I sense an edge to her tone. “But if it’s too much, if you’re more into exploring than inspecting, I can ask one of the others to take over. Theo and Henry have been hungry for a new assignment for a bit. It’s just that, well, you know how I feel about sending in a man to do a woman’s job. Women have to stick together. So just focus, Bridge. Never mind the new hardware. If it keeps coming up, document it, but get the job done. Pick up the pace. Got it?”
And she’s gone, leaving me with an even deeper pit of uncertainty. Why am I supposed to leave it alone?
These Montey parts are crap… You’ll recognize one of the signatures. It’s your boss.
Obviously, I can’t leave it alone. Not after what Paul said to me. Claudia hired me because I’m a good inspector. I pay attention to details. It’s not the other way around, that she hired me so she could make me into a negligent inspector.
I walk into the Manitoba Room and find myself alone. It’s odd, because they’re supposed to be working on the ceiling repair in the northeast corner. I head out in search of Paul, but after popping my head into three other rooms, I still can’t find him. At last, I find Gary in the Ontario Room, lugging around a huge box of Montey hardware.
“Hi, Gary,” I call, walking into the room.
He glowers at me as I continue toward him. “Miss Kelly. How are you today?”
“Just fine, thank you. Where’s Paul?”
“No idea. He didn’t show up this morning.”
I’m disappointed. “What’s in the box?”
“Doorknobs and light switches,” he says like there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Except, according to Paul, there’s a lot to worry about.
“May I see?”
“Not right now. I just got everything battened down. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find you something interesting to inspect.” He turns his back, kicks open a door, and disappears.
Wow. Did he basically just flip me off? I pick up my phone and call Jack Samson.
“Jack here.”
“Hi, Jack, it’s Bridget Kelly.”
“Bridge, honey! How goes it? Listen, busy busy busy today. Can I call you back?”
“Uh—”
“Terrific. Talk soon.”
I stare at my phone in disbelief. Him, too? I will get to the bottom of this. I start to tuck my phone into my pocket, but it buzzes again. Too quick for him to type an apology, I think wryly.
MB: Hello Bridget. It’s Matthew. I have come across information that may interest you. Would it be too forward to invite you to dinner tonight?
BK: Not at all. I would like that very much.
Just like that, the sun comes out.
Once again, Matthew’s at the restaurant before I am. He isn’t wearing his glasses tonight, making his pale eyes even more appealing. I take in his understated outfit: a tan sports jacket over a button-down white shirt and plain brown tie. And below that: dark blue, barely worn jeans. Seeing him in this everyday, ordinary outfit causes a stir in my lower belly that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I check my watch. “Am I late?”
“I was early,” he admits.
What is it about his awkwardness that appeals to me? I want to laugh, and I want to reassure. And yet there’s a part of me that wants to lean on him. It’s only been a few days, but I want to know this man much better than I do. And I have a feeling that, despite his reserve, he wants me to know him, too.
