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Since he’d come to her first cubicle at this office to remove a keyboard tray she had banged her knees on, Jason had always been able to make her feel like the world under her feet wasn’t stable. Like if she moved too quickly or took a wrong step, she would fall. And she never knew what to do with that information.
There wasn’t a formula for social interaction. Not one that worked well, anyway.
“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee first,” he said. “Wanna come?”
“Sure.” She had wanted a cup before her next meeting. Plus, the world wasn’t stable when she was around Jason, but it wasn’t boring, either.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE CONFERENCE ROOM her meeting was in was always either too hot or too cold—usually too hot. Jason said he’d done everything possible to regulate the room’s temperature, including adding the slight film that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the walking trail that connected many of the buildings in this part of the park. As she shrugged out of her suit jacket, she remembered that once, when she’d been complaining about this conference room, he’d told her to convince the VP to have blinds put in. “There’s only so much you can do for temperature control in a room that’s all windows and has no trees outside to provide shade. Especially in a building this old.”
Since this was the conference room closest to her office and where she usually had meetings, she’d taken his suggestions to heart, saying things like, “Wow, the sun is making the screen hard to see. Wouldn’t it be great to have roller blinds or something to provide a little better sun block?” whenever the right people were in meetings.
Jason had laughed when she’d told him of her strategy.
“Last time we met,” the grant writer, Roberto, was saying from his chair at the front of the room, “we said that we’d have the implementation and evaluation measures for parts one through four ready for the final document.” The mouse moved across the screen to the empty spot under “Implementation.”
Marsie wasn’t the only person who expected Roberto to keep talking, because the room was silent.
“Well,” Roberto said, “does anyone know why this area is still blank?”
Because the application isn’t due yet. Marsie didn’t say that. This grant was her baby, and she was pushing behind the scenes as much as she knew how. But she also knew that time pressure got work done faster than meetings and pointed silences.
The procrastination had driven her bonkers the first couple of grants she’d worked on. It still drove her bonkers, but she’d learned it was part of everyone else’s process, and letting it drive her to drink wasn’t a good use of her time or energy. So she’d gotten her portions done ahead of schedule and had been relying on relaxing breathing to help her wait for everyone else to work at their pace.
Roberto knew it, too. These meetings were a play, and they all had their parts.
“Marsie,” Roberto said, turning his attention to her and away from the rest of the people sitting around the conference table.
She looked over to the grant writer. “Yes?”
“Let’s talk about your budget.”
“Great,” she said. “I actually have some questions about your comments.”
God, it was boiling in this room. Her suit jacket was off, and she didn’t have anything else she could remove. My kingdom for a cold drink, she thought as Roberto scrolled down to her budget and started poking holes.
* * *
“HEY.” MARSIE LOOKED up from the grant application she was editing to see Jason leaning against the door frame, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag of something in the other. She smiled at him, pleased when he smiled back.
“You look like you were studying hard. Should I say I’m sorry for interrupting?”
She shook her head. “I needed the interruption. All the lines are starting to run together. And I’m getting a headache.”
“How was your meeting?” he asked, taking a couple steps into her office. She shoved the papers across her desk, and he moved closer.
“Part of the headache. The grant application is due in two months. The meeting was a reminder of how far behind we are.”
