Page 4 of Omega’s Fold

“They did their pitch. Payley did his routine. Ray opened it up. A few people spoke. Meeting ended. Same bullshit.”

I shouldn’t curse. Caleb is sixteen so it’s not like he hasn’t heard the word before, but I’m the adult in the house. I should be setting an example.

I sigh. “It was fine, Caleb. I said my piece. I sat down. Other people said theirs. Nothing got decided. There’ll be another meeting in a month.”

“Did Payley have an answer?”

“Nah.”

He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh.

“You better get to bed too.”

He rolls his eyes at me but shuts the textbook and heads up the stairs.

The stack of mail is on the end of the table where it’s been since yesterday. The top thing on the other pile is a heavy cream envelope with an embossed seal in the corner.

I pick it up.

Omega Match Bureau.

I put it in the trash under the sink without opening it. I registered a few weeks ago at the feed store. They’d offered a stipend to do it and I wasn’t going to turn down free cash. The letter is probably nothing, just a list of alphas they want to match me to. I don’t have time for that.

The next envelope is worse: Western Mutual, logo in their specific shade of blue. I turn it over in my hands, once, twice. Then I put it back down on the pile, still unopened.

I sit at the kitchen table alone for a while, just looking at the envelope. The fridge hums. The clock on the wall ticks. Somewhere out in the pasture a cow calls to another cow, and the other cow answers.

My phone buzzes against my thigh and I almost hit the ceiling. No one I know messages me this kind of night.

I take it out. The screen is too bright in the dim of the kitchen and I have to squint at it.

Prime Match found. Compatibility Score: 97.2%

I’m not doing this tonight. Not at all.

I swipe left on the notification, delete it. I’m not dealing with this. I’ve got enough trouble.

2. Julian

Richard has gone quiet, which is how I know my renderings are good. My boss talks over anything he doesn’t rate.

I click to the next slide. It shows the waterfront site in three-quarter perspective, late afternoon light, the glazing on the south elevation catching the harbor.

I spent weeks on getting the light right. The structural engineer told me in March that what I wanted was not buildable, and I sent him back to his desk, and it is now buildable.

The next slide is the interior atrium with the double-height cafe space at ground level. The two junior associates lean forward.

“Circulation,” I say, and move the laser pointer to the mezzanine. “Retail foot traffic here, office entrance here, cafe as soft buffer between them. Leasing have seen the revised footprint. They’re happy.”

Richard makes a small approving noise in his throat.

I take them through the rest of it. When I close the deck, the two juniors stand up at exactly the same moment Richard does. I gather my laptop cable.

“Good work,” Richard says. He’s come round the table. He puts his hand on my shoulder and leaves it there a beat longer than he needs. “Very good work. We’ll talk about the partner conversation properly after the waterfront goes to planning. You’ve earned that.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He’s already moving toward the door. The juniors follow him out.

I finish packing up. I’ve been prodding Richard about a partnership for a couple of years now. If I don’t get it in the next six months, then this is going to be my last six months in the Linden Group. I’ve earned it. He better follow through.