He clears his throat, the tips of his ears are red. “It went well. It was five thousand pieces.”
Her eyes widen. “Five thousand? Oh my gosh, Jonas, that must have taken you forever to finish.”
She claps her hands. “Oh, I almost forgot. I found this stuff at the craft store this weekend.” She grabs
a bottle out of her desk and brings it to him. She places it in his upturned hand and wraps her fingers
around the base of his palm. “It’s for puzzles, so you can hang them up after you’re finished. You just
paint it on, and it will hold it together.”
Jonas is frozen, staring at his hand. But I don’t think he’s looking at the bottle of puzzle glue. Janey
drops her hands and steps back. “You don’t have to use it. But I thought maybe—“
“It’s wonderful. I’ll try it this weekend.” His throat bobs as his gaze skates over her face. “Do…
do you like puzzles?”
“I do,” she says with a rueful smile, “but I’m very slow. I don’t think I would ever be able to
finish the kind you do.”
Ask her to do it with you,I mentally urge him. He’s completely in love with her and has no idea
what to do about it. I’ve seen that look on a few of my coworker’s faces through the years. It’s
beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time, because she’s not looking at him the same way. But even
with my limited experience, I know that with a little coaxing and a little attention, feelings can change.
“Yeah. Well. Yes. It takes some practice.” He swallows again, then tightens his grip on the glue.
“Thank you. I’ll leave you now.” He spins and walks away abruptly.
Janey watches him go, a gentle smile on her face. When he’s out of sight, she turns back to me and
claps her hands together softly. “Now, Maya, I want to show you around this morning. And I know
during the interview you had some worries about the environment here. We’ll work together to make
sure you’re comfortable.”
She doesn’t seem put out. Or frustrated that I’ll need some accommodations, and I release the last
little bit of tension I’m holding. Maybe this will be ok.
I’M OVERLOADED BY LUNCH. TOURING THE BUILDING, I’VE MET MORE PEOPLE THAN I CAN KEEP TRACK
of, though the rest of the brothers have made quite an impression. They’re all large men, dark-haired,
deep voices. But they welcomed me with kindness, insisted I call them by their first names, and let us
continue with our tour. My nerves are humming now, and that low buzz is at the back of my head,
warning me I’m going to suffer later. I rest my head back in my chair and close my eyes, trying to will
the headache away.
