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In a New York Minute(53)

Author:Kate Spencer

“Okay, so the goal for the open floor plan and communal workspace is to warm it up but not overpower it,” I said as Eleanor and Hayes trailed behind me. “We play up the natural aesthetics of the building—the windows, the light, the wood—but add elements that make it more inviting, so you feel good as soon as you enter. Your employees and clients too.”

I glanced back to gauge their response. Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. Hayes’s face was unreadable; it was impossible to know if he hated everything I was saying or was just processing it all. But then our eyes connected, and instead of turning away from me, he smiled, brows raised, the kind of face someone gives to say “I like it. I’m impressed. Well done.”

It kicked something on inside me, sent my confidence whirring. “Hayes and I had a chance to talk about his own office a bit, and, Eleanor, I’d love to connect with you about your space.” I led us into the corner office he’d flagged as hers.

“The only thing I have to have are my pictures hanging somewhere,” she said.

“You’re a photographer?” I asked, wondering how much more impressive this already impressive woman would get.

“Amateur,” she said, “but way too into it. And I like to think I’m somewhat decent.”

She walked over to the wall, running her hand over the ridges of red brick. “I mostly photograph surfers,” she said. “The ocean. Beach towns.”

“So water, nature,” I mused, brainstorming.

“All that. Every time I’m near the water, I feel like I’m in my element.”

“You mean more than when you’re running a board meeting?” Hayes teased from behind me.

Eleanor snorted. “That’s enough, thank you,” she said, giving him the finger before turning back to me. “Hayes acts tough, but he cries watching Pixar movies.”

“Hey, just in Up,” he said defensively. Then to me, with a shrug, “When the wife dies.”

He turned, hands in pockets, but not before I could see the faint hint of color on his cheeks. I noticed this about him now; he played it cool, but something warmer was always lurking underneath. If he had been looking back at me, he would have seen me smiling in his direction.

Eleanor and I followed him out into the main area. “I think we can create a sophisticated and inviting space for you that’s very organic too,” I said.

“I trust you,” Eleanor said. “Oh, and I’d like to make that spare office a spot for parents. I need a place to use my breast pump.”

“Of course,” I said, excited about the idea. “A place for the breast to rest.”

Oh god. I clenched my teeth, cringing at my ability to always say too much. “Sorry, that came out all wrong.”

Eleanor laughed. “Actually, it was just right.” She gave me an approving look. “On that note, I need to get home before I have to lie down on the floor here. Great to meet you, Franny. Thanks for taking this on.”

She leaned in toward me, grabbing my elbow affectionately. “For taking us on,” she said.

“I appreciate the opportunity, truly.” I offered her a wide smile that instantly felt too eager, but it was too late to rein it in.

Hayes walked with her to the elevator, discussing some client that was blowing up his inbox today. I busied myself on my computer, typing in notes from our conversations.

Then there he was again, clearing his throat to interrupt me. “There’s one other thing I want to show you.”

I followed him over to a door that he had pointed out earlier, and when he opened it, everything changed.

When you live in New York City, there’s a magical feeling you get whenever you run up the steps out of the subway, spin through a revolving door out of your office building at the end of a long day, push open a window to let in the spring scent of blossoms. There’s a split second where the city hits you, greets you, slobbers a kiss on your face like a puppy. It’s a jolt, and a shock, and then you move on. But there’s a part of you, somewhere, that marvels at it every time.

Stepping onto this roof was like that: an inhalation of breath, a moment of wonder.

“Wow,” was all I said, bringing a hand to my eyes to shield them from the orange sunset sitting on top of the Jersey City skyline. “This belongs to you too?”

He nodded, and I could see it in the creases of his eyes, which even outside were still a color too dark to read: He was marveling at it all too.

“Can we use it?”

He nodded. “We should, right?”

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