Wear something warm. It’s December.
Harper:
I’m aware of the calendar, Claire.
Claire:
Bring towels.
Harper:
I know how to prepare for things. This is literally my profession.
Claire:
Okay, bring EXTRA towels.
Harper put her phone down and looked out the window. Charleston was still dark, the harbor a flat black plane dotted with boat lights.
In a couple of hours, she was going to run into the Atlantic Ocean in December on purpose because she had picked this adventure.
Because karaoke night had set the standard, and now Harper’s competitive nature would not allow her to follow it with something tame.
So in the back of her mind, she thought, if I’m going to feel something, it might as well be freezing water. Of course, she had not said that part out loud, because she was not even ready to admit to Claire or Nina that she was searching for some kind of feeling in her life.
Her life was lonely in ways she had a hard time describing. It wasn’t just her empty apartment. It was the way she moved through her day with such precision that there was no room for anything unplanned, no gap in the schedule where a feeling might sneak through.
Her calendar was full. Her life was full. Oh yes, it was full of meetings, strategy sessions, quarterly reviews, and working dinners.
But all of it added up to a life that looked very impressive from the outside and felt like eating toast over the sink from the inside.
The morning prior to the plunge, Harper sat at her desk and had lunch.
This wasn’t unusual for her.
She had lunch at her desk most days, a salad from the place on Broad Street that knew her order, shoveled into her mouth between emails while the city moved on without her.
Her office was on the fourteenth floor with a view of the steeple of St. Philip’s Church, and she had earned every square foot of it through her twenty-two years of being sharper, smarter, and more prepared than anyone else in the room, including the men.
James appeared in her doorway around twelve. He was twenty-eight, immaculately dressed, and the only person in the company who didn’t seem to be afraid of her.
He held a paper bag from the salad place in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
“Your mother called,” he said.
“How many times?”
“Three.”
“What did she want?”
“She said, and I quote, ‘Tell my daughter that her cousin Margaux had her second child, and I’m not saying anything. I’m just telling her.’”
Harper closed her eyes. “Thank you, James,” she said with a sigh.
“Oh, she also said that there’s a cardiothoracic surgeon at her church who’s recently divorced.”
“Of course there is.”
