Page 32 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
“A date. You know, for my shindig in the city?” Her mother sounded exasperated, and Sam wished she’d thought to get her wine before she’d answered the call. “And I’ve found a design for an invitation that I love.”
“Yes. Of course.” Sam retreated hastily.
“Now we just have to find somewhere really special, Sammy. Did Isaiah tell you? For the LA reunion he found an amazing venue. It’s in one of those 1920s hotels. We’ve got to be sure whatever we do in San Francisco is just as special. You sure you don’t want to come down for the LA party as well?”
“Wish I could. But the rotation schedule isn’t out that far in advance, and I want to be able to swap shifts for your party in the Bay if needed.” Sam did not wish that she could attend. In fact, the last thing she needed was the added pressure of comparison to her sainted older brother.
“Right. Well, we can talk about it later,” her mother said, as if brushing the inconvenient truth about maternal care aside. “I texted you a link to the invite. Did you get it?”
“Not yet,” Sam half truthed. The text had come in, but she hadn’t opened it. Pursing her lips, Sam tapped the link to see a mint-green invitation pop up. Looking closely at the detailed flourishes, she realized they were leaves drawn into the corners where swoops and curlicues would usually be. It was completely perfect for a woman who photographed macrobiology for fun. “Mom. This is gorgeous.”
“I know, right! Now you see why I had to call you, Sammy.”
Sam wasn’t sure that the invitation warranted a midnight phone call, but she let the reasoning slide. “It is perfect for you.”
“Well, thank you. In the end, I decided to just pony up and pay for the custom graphics. This is a big-deal party, and I thought the invite went nicely with all the photos I’ll be shipping out.”
“It’s money well spent.” Sam smiled. This was the real reason her mother had called. She was excited about the party and sharing her memories with her friends. In fact, this was the first time in many, many years that her interests and hobbies could take center stage. If that wasn’t a good-enough reason to be excited and call your daughter after midnight, Sam wasn’t sure what was.
“Anyway. Now that I have the invites all done, you can find me a venue, send out the invitations, and we’ll be off to the races.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam said, eyeing her phone. She remembered agreeing to help out with the venue. Had she also put invitations on the list? Not that it mattered—her mother clearly wasn’t planning on sending out the invitations herself. Sam had known when she’d agreed to help that her duties would swell. If this was the last of it, she’d be lucky.
“Have you started thinking about venues at all? Hopefully my date won’t conflict with the ones you like. I already set up a Facebook invite,” her mother said, sounding nonplussed about the idea of further inconveniencing her.
“I, um ...” Sam shrugged, looking longingly at her computer. She’d had every intention of looking for venues, but then she’d managed to get a meeting with Kaiya, and she’d needed to prep for the interview with Anjo, and the time had just gotten away from her. Letting her eyes flick toward the clock, Sam decided to skip the explanation. Her mother wouldn’t understand it anyway. And really, she only had a few more minutes before she could reasonably extricate herself from this conversation, hopefully before her mother addedhire a skywriterto her to-do list. “I plan to go on my next day off.”
“Oh, good. When is that?”
“Six days from now,” Sam said, cringing at the brutality of her schedule.
“I know that is the best you can do.” Her mother did not sound like she knew it. “In the meantime, I’ll send you the email list and the file so you can just tell people to hold the date.”
“Right. Sounds good, Mom,” Sam said, attempting not to get short as her mother added more to her list. Deciding now was the perfect time to end the call, she added, “I need to head to bed soon. Early start tomorrow. Talk later?”
“All righty, Sammy. Love you.”
“Love you. Bye.”
Sam’s breath caught as she processed hearing her mother say that she loved her. She didn’t really care that her mother hadn’t asked a single question about her day or that her list had gotten longer in spite of Diana’s reassurances. The party was bringing them closer together just like Sam had hoped it would. And now, she could get her wine and turn her attention to an overgrown hedge and a snide TV presenter.
Chapter Nine
Sam pushed her way off BART and readjusted her skirt. She was already sweating buckets and her thighs were beginning to chafe, and it wasn’t even 10:00 a.m. yet. Not for the first time today, she wondered how anyone went to work in something so uncomfortable as a pencil skirt and suit jacket. If she hadn’t already decided on medicine, the whole banker uniform would have scared her out of the profession entirely.
Tapping her metro card on the way out of the train station turnstile, Sam took a moment to orient herself. According to Google Maps, she just needed to walk five blocks from the Civic Center Station, and she would see the Anjo building. According to Sherilynn, the assistant to Duesa Azevedo, who’d helped set up her meeting, the building was easy to find in between a massive social media company and some sort of rideshare start-up. But Sherilynn had also promised her that BART was a “super easy” way to get to the meeting, so Sam had her doubts.
Doing her best to speed walk in the most restrictive skirt ever invented, Sam ran through the list of program points she had developed. When she and Grant had talked about him agreeing to be the program’s adviser during their small group huddle, he reiterated that this meeting was hers to run since his free time was limited. In his cranky way, he even admitted that he had only skimmed the application materials she had painstakingly gathered for him.
Rounding the corner, Sam caught sight of the imposing stone building, Grant standing underneath it and looking striking in a gray, carefully tailored suit, his forehead creased as he looked at his watch. Holding her breath, Sam glanced down at her phone to make sure she wasn’t late.
9:43 a.m.Exhaling with the relief that comes with being two minutes early, Sam said, “Hi, Grant. Sorry I’m cutting it close. I took the BART here, and that was an experience.”
Grant’s attention snapped from his watch to Sam’s eyes, the tension melting from his face. “No worries. We still have time.” Readjusting the strap on his bag, he gave her an appraising look before asking, “Where were you coming from?”
“Dogpatch,” Sam said, fighting the urge to fan her face.
“That’s a schlep,” Grant said, frowning slightly before adding, “Why didn’t you just take Muni the whole way?”
