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Poletti Architectural Studios was housed on the fourteenth floor of a skyscraper that looked out over the Hudson River with 10th Avenue at its back. Lydia had been up to the roof once to see the view, the buildings all stacked like pieces in a Tetris game. That was more than three years ago now. After she’d graduated, she’d spent a couple years building her résumé, working for smaller firms before officially applying to Poletti’s. Marco Poletti had interviewed her himself and hired her on the spot. Lydia liked to frequently remind herself that she’d impressed the principal architect of the firm, especially on days when her design proposals were rejected.
She found one such present on her desk as she walked into her office, and her stomach sank. There was a familiar line of red ink scratched across the cover page of her proposal and not one single recommendation or note. Lydia flipped through the whole document just to be sure, then slumped down in her swivel chair. She wasn’t in the mood for rejection this early in the morning and contemplated seeking out her supervisor, Erik Shaunesberg, to commiserate. Together they were considered the eco-gurus in the office, and though Poletti’s wasn’t known for their green innovation like other firms, Lydia was usually excited to sprinkle a little of her passion into projects whenever possible. Though lately it seemed like most of her proposals had been destined for the recycling bin.
She was still glaring at the proposal when Kirsten Watters, the firm’s administrative assistant, appeared in her doorway. The youngest member of the team, Kirsten had the closet of a runway model and the world-weary, no-nonsense approach of someone twice her age. She was known for abruptly hanging up on rude clients and leaving passive-aggressive sticky notes on desks. She was also Lydia’s favorite person in the office.
“Who red-lined your proposal?” Kirsten asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
“That is a question for the ages.” Lydia dropped the proposal on her desk.
“How was last night? You left with that guy, right?”
“Nothing to write home about.” Kirsten’s lips twitched as Lydia said, “Now ask me what I did this morning? I walked my sister to the gym and ran face-first into one of the most attractive men I have ever seen in my life.”
“Like you physically hit him?”
“Pretty sure I rebounded off his pectorals.”
Kirsten plopped herself down on the corner of Lydia’s desk. “Okay, rewind. How attractive are we talking? I’m trying to decide if I should start going to the gym.”
Lydia laughed. No one besides Ashley knew about her little workplace crush on Jack—she’d never wanted pesky feelings to interfere with her career. Though she did enjoy talking about all the nonserious hypotheticals she encountered outside the office. “I have banned myself from going anywhere near Ashley’s gym because I’m still mortified. I literally told this man he took my breath away, then retracted my statement and vaguely pointed to all his muscles.”
“I don’t know if I should be taking notes or getting popcorn.”
“Ashley watched me do all this in real time.”
“She’s fired for not recording,” Kirsten said. “I’m your sister now.”
“Who’s fired?” Lydia looked up to see Erik standing in the doorway. The man favored turtlenecks and suit jackets and the color black. His hair was buzzed short and he liked to pretend he was hard of hearing in one ear when people pestered him with questions. For some reason, he reminded Lydia of her father. Orafather. Erik had no children, but she’d always thought he would make a good dad. Whenever she told him that, he said he was still waiting on his prince charming.
“We’re talking about Lydia’s romantic fails,” Kirsten said, clueing him in.
“Speaking of failures,” Lydia said, shaking her proposal at Erik. “Did you know about this? There’s no feedback. Again.”
Erik frowned. “No, but I’ll talk to the leadership team, see if I can at least get you some notes. Maybe you can make a few tweaks and resubmit. I’ll try to catch them after the meeting.”
“What meeting?”
“The quarterly team meeting,” Kirsten said, making her way to the door. “It’s this morning, remember?”
She had, in fact, not remembered. Lydia rifled through her desk for a pen and a notepad. Erik stayed, looking out her sliver of a window. Her office was a shoebox, but she’d lucked out with one instead of a cubicle because their team was small, so no one would ever catch her complaining about it. She had no problem complaining about her red-lined proposal, however. “Tell me the truth,” she said. “Was my design bad?”
Erik leaned against the window, studying the street below. “I loved your proposal. That’s why I told you it was ready to submit.”
“Well, I’m kind of getting mixed messages here.” As far as supervisors went, she couldn’t have asked for someone more committed to her learning. But like any young architect, she was eager to make a name for herself and her designs. To do that, she had to actually get a proposal into the hands of a client. She wanted to know that her work was more than just good. She wanted it to begreat. Though clearly whatever Erik saw in her work wasn’t making the cut at the next level.
“We’ll get it figured out,” Erik promised. “C’mon, Marco’s already in the building. We don’t want to be late.”
Lydia followed Erik down the hall to the conference room. It was a corner office stacked with floor-to-ceiling windows. She took a seat at the massive oblong table between Erik and Kirsten as the automatic shades lowered, darkening the room enough for the projector beam to show up. A tray of breakfast pastries sat in the middle of the table, along with a box of brewed coffee courtesy of Charmaine’s, the boutique café on the first floor of the building. Kirsten helped herself, also pouring coffee for Lydia and Erik. She passed Lydia’s cup over with a heaping handful of sugar packets.
“How is everyone this morning?” Marco asked, breezing into the room.
Though he was pushing seventy, he had the energy of someone thirty years younger, and it had been his exuberance that had originally driven Lydia to accept a position with Poletti’s. She wanted to always be in love with her career the way Marco was.
He picked up the projector remote and started the slideshow. “If I can direct your attention away from the chocolate croissants to the screen, let’s round up what we finished last quarter before we talk about the fun stuff.”
When the slideshow eventually changed to an image of a nondescript brick building surrounded by yards of crumbling asphalt and a chain-link fence, Lydia sat up, nudging Erik. “What’s that?”
“I have no idea.” Erik usually gave her a heads-up when there was an interesting brief coming down the line, but he hadn’t mentioned this place at all.
