His fellow early-bird coworkers had gathered around the employer-provided gourmet coffee machine, their version ofan old-school water cooler. But he didn’t have any choice in the matter. He couldn’t wait them out, not this morning.
They moved aside so he could reach the machine, and their conversation—something about sacks and yardage—continued while he filled his stainless-steel mug.
Only Gwen greeted him with a nod, her silver-streaked ponytail swinging. “Morning.”
She still hadn’t given up on him, even after a year. Nice lady, but entirely too persistent.
“Morning.” He nodded to her and swiveled toward the mini-refrigerator. Just a splash of milk, and he’d be?—
“We were just talking about the game last night. Are you a football fan, Sebastián?”
At her question, all the other engineers turned to him, and he paused.
Football didn’t interest him. Fútbol was more his speed. But they didn’t need to know that. If he told them, maybe they’d make a snide comment about how much “foreigners” loved soccer, and maybe they wouldn’t.
To be fair, they probably wouldn’t.
He still wasn’t willing to risk it.
“Sure,” he said, pouring the milk carefully into his mug.
Bill, the resident expert on all things sports-related, brightened. “Any particular team? The Rams? The Raiders?”
Sebastián never should have told them he’d moved from California, but how could he avoid a direct question without damaging his already-tenuous relationships with his colleagues? And how could he get out of this conversation with speed but without outright rudeness?
“They’re all great.” A quick sip from his mug established that he’d added enough milk. “Listen, I need to get going. I’m leaving work early today, and I have a few projects to complete before then. Have a good day, everyone.”
A forced smile, this one directed at the whole group, before he made his escape.
One obstacle down. But compared to what lay ahead of him, an entire day of public exposure and claustrophobic rooms and Lucy, the conversation at the water cooler was nothing. He’d need to keep a tight lid on himself. More so than usual, even.
At his desk, he put in his earbuds and started a MATLAB simulation running. And when Gwen called across the room and asked him where he was going later that day, he pretended not to hear.
“This cozy cabinis one hundred and twenty square feet, has one sleeping loft, and comes in ten thousand dollars below the top end of your budget.” Allie gestured toward the dilapidated wooden shack nestled among the trees. “I think it’s a great option for you.”
Lucy pursed her lips, attempting not to laugh on camera.Cozywas clearly real-estate-agent code forridiculously small.
Sebastián said nothing, just studied the structure in silence. Then again, Lucy hadn’t expected him to express his opinion without prompting. After all these years, he was unlikely to change his communication style, whether or not cameras and a boom mic hovered nearby.
“What are your first impressions?” Allie asked.
Lucy searched for a diplomatic answer. “I love the setting. Very tranquil.”
Sure, she wouldn’t actually live in this area much longer, and the house didn’t come with the property. But maybe viewers wouldn’t remember that.
“You won’t leave much of a carbon footprint with thisoption.” Allie’s smile seemed brighter than normal. Wider too. “And what an opportunity to make this place your own with a few minor updates!”
More code. Bya few minor updates, Lucy assumed Allie meantextensive renovations to keep your flimsy new home from collapsing under the weight of an errant chipmunk.
Allie rapped on a piece of dry, cracked siding with her knuckles. Then, when it creaked ominously at the contact, she snatched her hand away. “Just look at the lovely natural patina of this wood.”
Ah, yes. Patina. Also known as dry rot.
Ostensibly, Allie was talking to her, but Lucy’s friend and real estate agent kept both eyes on the camera at all times. And during each break in filming, she didn’t hang out with Lucy and Sebastián. Not even to tell them one of her notoriously dirty jokes or share recent pictures of her kids. Instead, she kept company with the crew, asking them questions and dropping tidbits from her own résumé.
For years, Allie had talked about leaving what she considered the stifling confines of Marysburg, not to mention the orbit of her feckless ex-husband. Lucy just hadn’t realized the search for a tiny house was meant to serve as her friend’s exit plan. She should have, though, when Allie had pushed her to apply for Tiny House Trackers.
And really, Allieshouldgrasp this opportunity. Her friend deserved the future of her dreams. If Lucy had hoped for a bit more support during this process, that was a problem with her, not Allie. This was, it seemed, yet another occasion in which Jarrod’s complaints about Lucy’s naïveté had proven correct.
