Page 4 of The Austen Escape
Moira leaned over the wall. “Easy? There was nothing easy about all that work, and stop killing your animals. They’re wonderful.”
I bent to pick them up, and one by one repositioned them at the edge of my desk. Duck. Giraffe. Two horses. A tiger complete with contrasting stripes. “It’s embarrassing there are so many. Shows you how stymied I’ve been.”
I picked up the last one, an elephant made of black 18-gauge electrical wire, and crushed it in my palm. “I was so close to the answer. I can almost see it. But...”
Moira snapped her fingers. “Then answer something else for me.”
I pushed back from my desk to give her my full attention. “Shoot.”
“Why haven’t you grabbed that boy and kissed him already?”
I shot up and scanned the room, noting that most cubicleswere empty. “You can’t yell stuff like that. You can’t eventhinkstuff like that. What if someone hears you?”
“Then we’d all get somewhere.”
“Now?” I sat back down. “You want to talk about my love lifenow?”
“Seems a more fruitful topic.”
I could still smell the coffee at that morning meeting when Craig first introduced Nathan to the team.
“He’s thirty-two, so most of you may feel the need to call him sir, but listen to him anyway. He got his MBA at Harvard and he’s brilliant at running a business. So while you keep pushing the limits, he’ll keep our lights on and get WATT running smoothly as we grow—’cause that’s what we’re doing around here. We’re taking this whole thing to the next level. And as soon as I hire another CEO to manage this beast, I’ll get back to playing with you lot.”
Craig rubbed his hands together, then slapped Nathan on the back. Everyone gathered around, a few called him sir, and then most drifted back to work. I stood frozen—overcome by a simple, clear awareness that something about him spoke to something within me. And we hadn’t yet exchanged two words.
In the eleven months that followed, that feeling had only grown.
Nathan was smart, patient, clever, quixotic, and kind. He was a completely analytical consultant, ready to tear your business apart, who also quoted romantic movies, remembered everyone’s birthday, and crooned ballads to our sixty-five-year-old office manager. He was a mystery and infinitely intriguing.
Moira interrupted my reverie.
“You knew Golightly was dead the minute Karen became your boss. You’ve had three months to digest it.”
“She’s going to fire me.” It was the first time it felt real.
“Karen won’t fire you. I run the numbers; you’re too valuable.” Moira walked around the divider between our cubicles and I twisted in my chair to face her. “And let’s get back to the subject. Everyone can see the way Nathan looks at you. Why do you give him the Heisman every day?” She thrust one arm straight in the famous football pose.
I had to laugh at her attempt to cheer me up. Moira, dressed in four-inch heels and a tight skirt, knew nothing about football.
“He doesn’t look at me any differently than he does you. And I don’t give him the Heisman.”
“If he looked at me that way, I might break my engagement. You’re either a liar or a fool.”
“I’m pragmatic. Besides, one: he’ll be gone soon, and two: he’s dating someone.”
“He told you that?”
“He’s mentioned Jeffrey’s and Sophia’s. Those are date restaurants.”
Arms crossed, Moira drummed the fingers of one hand against her skin. “Nice assumption, Sherlock, but this isn’t the sixth grade. Talk to him. Ask him.”
“It isn’t the sixth grade, but it feels like it... and I hated the sixth grade.”
She pushed herself upright. “Invite him to Crow Bar tonight.”
“Right. Look, it’s already been a rough day and—wait. Tonight?” I scattered through the chaos on my desk to find my phone. “How’d it get so late? I’m meeting my dad at Guero’s for dinner.” I gathered my notes, my computer, and my second computer and shoved everything into my bag. “I’ll never make it to South Congress on time. MoPac will be jammed.”
“Nathan? Crow Bar? Call him and see if he’ll meet you there after dinner.”
