They rounded the corner of José’s office and Judy noticed an oppressive pile of papers.
José sat behind his desk and grabbed the stack. “I’m presenting this to the boss next Monday. It’s a redesign of the Valley Street Mall. Not the most exciting project, but the bread and butter of Benson and Miller.”
Judy understood that. A junior architect needed to show their worth with the smaller projects before any firm would advance them to the bigger projects team.
Before Judy could comment, someone poked his head into the office. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh, hey, Mitch.”
The delivery boy glanced at Judy and then handed a box to José. José signed for the box and waved him off.
Alone again, Judy asked, “What do you want me to do?”
The rest of the morning was a journey meant for flats and not the three-inch heels on her feet. She matched a face with nearly everyone on José’s small team to check facts, gather more materials from their offices, or ask questions. Once she felt familiar enough with the individuals, Judy made the phone do her footwork. By lunch, she had a pile of work she actually wanted to do. She considered working through the hour but wasn’t given the opportunity to stay in the office. Seemed many of the female employees wanted her to join them for lunch. Judy wasn’t naive enough to think they had a sudden need to know the new employee, but wanted the inside scoop on her brother.
Either way, by the time her lunch hour was up, she felt more welcome than the week before.
She sent Mike a quick text, telling him she owed him.
In return, he sent a winking emoticon.
The message center on her phone told her about a missed call.
Rick’s voice made her smile.
“Hey, babe . . . told you I’d call. So, Saturday at five. Wear something nice.”
She just stared at her phone. His presumptive pushy self might have ticked her off on a different day. Today she was riding the wave and decided to give him a little of his own medicine.
She texted Dan, Lucas, and Meg first. Pool, Saturday night?
Dan responded first. Lucas and I are in. Seven?
Meg was next. Can’t. Sam is sending me to New York. I love my job! Details later.
“New York?” Judy whispered.
Judy responded. Such the jet-setter. Fine, Lucas and Dan, meet you at the dive at seven.
Then, since her texting fingers were hard at work, Judy sent a message to Rick. Can’t Saturday, I have plans.
She hit send and then started on the next message. Friday at the Getty. I’ll meet you at the tram at seven thirty. The Getty was public, urban, and in her element. All the details needed for a first date where she didn’t trust herself to remain vertical.
With Rick, remaining vertical was a must.
Rick replied in seconds. Friday. I’ll pick you up at your brother’s at seven for the Getty.
Negotiation was good.
She did a little happy chair dance before stowing her phone and moving on with her day.
“You caved!” Meg called out the second Judy walked into the living room.
She tossed her purse and the folder with her pet project on the kitchen counter. “I did what?”
“Caved. Agreed to a date with Rick.”
Judy pulled a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator, leaned against the counter, and twisted off the lid. “I thought you didn’t see Rick very often.”
“I don’t.” Meg sat on one of the overstuffed chairs in the great room, her feet dangling off the arm. “He showed up after lunch asking me about the Getty. Asked if I could help a guy out to impress you.”
The man managed to place a smile on her face even when he wasn’t around. “And what did you say?”
“I told him the Getty was boring as all hell. Only redeeming quality was the wine that all those artsy folks drink.”
Judy rolled her eyes. How Meg was going to blend with the ultrarich was beyond her.
“And he said?”
“Nothing. I think he growled. I didn’t know grown men growled . . . well, outside of a bedroom.”
Great. Rick already thought an evening at the Getty was going to suck. Maybe an evening at a pool hall was a better match. Yet Judy knew she eventually wanted to date someone willing to try new things, learn about culture and design. They already knew they both had something in common shooting pool.
Instead of probing further, Judy asked, “So what’s this about New York?”
Meg’s legs flew off the side of the chair and she jumped to her feet. “I love my job. Have I told you that?”
“You have.”
“Sam is sending me to New York . . . and not just sending me, she’s sending me on their private plane. Did you know they had their own plane?”
“I think someone said that at some point.” For the life of her she couldn’t remember who or why the conversation had been brought up. Maybe something about Mike and Karen’s pretend honeymoon . . .
“A private jet. I’m going to some women’s seminar. Did you know that the governor’s wife used to work for Sam . . . actually I think she still has some interest in Alliance.”
Judy didn’t interrupt Meg when she got on a roll like she was now.
“Eliza and Sam are like this.” Meg crossed two fingers and waved them in the air. “Eliza is a keynote speaker at the event and she’s going to mentor me in how to approach potential clients for Alliance. Can you f**king believe that?”
Meg’s language would make a sailor blush when she was drinking heavily or overly excited.
“In this new world, yeah . . . I believe it.”
“I never thought a business degree would land me a job like this. Great clothes, private planes, and trips to New York? How the hell did I score this?”
Judy always knew Meg would make the most of any position she took. She was more driven to succeed than anyone she knew. It was one of the things they had in common.
“When are you leaving?”
“Friday morning. I’ll be sipping martinis in New York while you’re yawning at the Getty.”
“I like the Getty. I’m looking forward to the view of the city and the glow of the lights on the museum.”
Meg made a show out of yawning.
Judy tossed the plastic top of the water bottle at her friend.
“If your date with Rick ends well, you’ll be able to come back here without any interruption.” Meg wiggled her eyebrows.
“I’m not sleeping with him.”
Meg winced. “Good God, why not? The man is yummy with a capital Y!”