Page 72 of An Unfinished Story
“Yeah, they used to be crammed into a corner suite in the office park across the street from the Publix. They built this maybe six years ago.”
“I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before.”
“It’s funny how you might be right next to something, but you don’t notice it until you’re meant to.” Claire turned to Whitaker to make sure he caught her meaning.
He certainly did. “Isn’t life something?”
Claire scanned the room, noticing several familiar faces. A man named Zeke in chinos and a plaid shirt spotted her and nearly jumped out of his chair, coming their way.
“Claire,” he said, flashing his teeth, opening his arms.
“Hi, Zeke. It’s so good to see you.”
Zeke gave her a tight squeeze. “You look great,” he whispered.
Claire thanked him and looked back to the center of the room. She hadn’t seen most of these people since the funeral. “Lots of new faces around here.”
“I know! We’re growing like crazy.”
“So is St. Pete.”
“That’s exactly right. It’s a good time to be an architect.”
Claire gestured toward Whitaker and introduced him as her friend.
Zeke looked at Whitaker for the first time. “I know you.”
“Oh yeah?” Whitaker said, his ego grinning.
“Yeah, you’re the barista from down the street, right? Made my iced cappuccino this morning?”
Claire froze, unsure of how to react. She kind of wanted to laugh.
Whitaker’s face went white. “Uh, no, actually, I’m not a baristo.” Slicing a hand through the air, he added, “Wrong guy.” A nervous chuckle followed.
Zeke grinned. “I’m kidding. I loved your book.”
A handsome smile rose on Whitaker’s face, accepting defeat in this quick game of wit. He reached for Zeke’s hand. “Well played, sir. Well played.”
The three shared a laugh, and several other of David’s former coworkers herded around them. After more hugs and introductions, Zeke asked, “What are you doing here, by the way? You should stop in more often. We miss you.”
Claire took the floor, feeling David’s old life circling around her, watching her. She wanted them to see she was doing better. “We’re trying to get to the bottom of something and need your help.” She cast her eyes toward the others. “It’s a long story, but I’m trying to find a boy David apparently knew.” Claire dug into her purse. “We found this picture in his desk yesterday.”
Claire handed the photograph to Zeke, and the other coworkers squeezed in around him to take a peek.
“That’s Oliver,” Zeke said.
Claire’s heart buckled.
Whitaker stepped toward her and put a kind hand on her lower back.
“Yeah,” a woman named Eliza agreed, looking at Claire. Eliza had joined the firm the same year as David and was a similar age to Claire, so they’d gravitated toward each other at work events and found they shared similar political views. “David caught him breaking into a man’s car.”
“That’s weird. He didn’t tell me. When was this?” Claire asked.
“Gosh,” Eliza said, her freshly applied lip gloss glistening. “Maybe a year before ... you know.” Eliza shook her head. “David made Oliver track down the owner and pay him back for the broken window.”
“Yeah,” Zeke said, “David actually gave him a few small jobs around here to make the money.”
