Page 58 of Ten Years and Then…
Nora, September 15
God, Ben was handsome.
He obviously spent a lot of effort styling his hair so that it looked like it didn’t take any effort at all. It was like an art form, one that Nora herself had never come close to mastering. And he knew exactly what colors to wear and how to wear them.
“Hey, Nora, are you okay?”
What she wanted to say was “no,” because how could she be expected to concentrate on this week’s articles when he was sitting there like he’d just stepped out of a Benetton catalog?
“Sorry, I just got lost in thought for a minute.”
It hit her then; this was the first time she’d thought that way about anyone since Daniel. Sure, she’d swooned over the pottery scene in Ghost and imagined Patrick Swayze’s arms around her, just like every other girl with a pulse, but that didn’t count.
This did. Ben was an actual human, sitting four feet away from her, and he looked—well, hot—even under the horrible fluorescent lights of the Observer office.
“Nora? Are you sure you’re all right? We can do this tomorrow, if you’re not feeling well.”
No. Ben would still be hot tomorrow. Hot, thoughtful, smart, and worst of all he acted like he didn’t even know it.
Being his assistant editor was going to be a lot more difficult than she’d thought.
Daniel, September 20
Daniel sat at the desk watching over the brand new Macintosh lab in Ellis Hall. A dozen Mac SE’s for anyone on campus to use, as well as anyone at the nearby Albany College of Law. Apparently the law school didn’t have their own computer lab.
He didn’t mind. The law students were very quiet and—well, studious. They never asked for help or advice or anything. It left him free to catch up on his classwork, which was a mercy because Data Communications was proving to be a struggle to keep up with.
For the last hour, though, he hadn’t been doing schoolwork. He’d been staring at the birthday card he’d bought two weeks ago for Nora and then stashed in the back of his desk instead of giving it to her.
Even two weeks late, he could give it to her. She’d probably think it was hilarious. But he hadn’t even written in it; what could he possibly say?
He was snapped out of his distraction by an angry grunt, followed by a woman’s voice not quite shouting, “Oh, my God! You’re supposed to be smarter than I am!” Then there was a light thump, like a fist hitting a table, and finally, “I give up! Can somebody please help me?”
Daniel looked up, and other than the owner of the voice—a blonde woman with her hair tied back in a ponytail—he was the only somebody in the room.
She should have checked in with him and left her ID, so he could hand her a disk with whatever software she needed, but she must have just grabbed a disk right off his desk without him noticing. He could mention that to her later; there was no point making a big production out of it when she was the only other person here.
He went over, and she turned to face him. He wasn’t great at guessing ages, but she seemed a little older than him—she might be one of those normally quiet law students. She had brown eyes, and she was trying not to smile. Her smile was probably warm and inviting and—God, where had that thought come from? He needed to get a grip; he hadn’t thought about anybody’s smile since … Nora.
“Hi,” he said, trying to forget about soft brown eyes and a warm almost-smile. And about Nora, too. “What’s going on?”
“MacWrite isn’t cooperating.”
He grabbed a chair and sat down next to her. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”
She pointed. “See here? It’s not centering my name. It should look like this,” she handed him a paper—someone’s resume, obviously not hers. “Carrie said she did her resume here in five minutes, and it looks great and mine looks like garbage so far.”
Hearing it out loud jogged his memory. He’d been working on an assignment while Bob was covering the desk last week, and Bob had spent the better part of an hour formatting a resume for a girl named Carrie. He’d never looked up, but he’d heard the whole thing.
“I hate to tell you, but your friend Carrie stretched the truth a little bit. My friend Bob did it for her, and it took him nearly an hour.”
The woman laughed. “I should have guessed. She’s been known to exaggerate from time to time.” She took the resume back from Daniel. “Look, right here.” She pointed. “Summer Intern, Fitch & Calabria. Duties included assisting in the strategic preparation and execution of multi-jurisdictional litigation with direct impact on corporate compliance.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Do you know what Carrie actually did there?”
Daniel shook his head. He was pretty sure she didn’t expect him to answer.
“She filed the contract with the caterers for the firm’s Fourth of July party. That was the sum total of her strategic litigation experience.”
Daniel chuckled. “Well, at least she’s creative, right?”
