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“Honestly, Mr. Hollister—”
“Jack.”
My teeth clicked together. “Jack.”
He gave me a little salute and walked down a hallway, whistling the entire way. “Good night, Gracie.”
“I won’t need it,” I called out.
He just waved at me and kept walking. I glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Carson’s door and stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets. I absently played with my slim card holder, the only purse I needed most days, and crossed to the elevator.
I’d come here looking for a miracle, and I was walking away with a job. Not exactly how I’d imagined this day going. In fact, I didn’t remember the drive out to Boston—I’d been livid and shell-shocked, not to mention emotional.
I was running on exasperation at this point and hoped that it would at least get me home. Somehow I’d make this work. I wasn’t entirely sure how, but I’d think of something. When the elevator doors opened to the lobby, I caught George’s gaze.
He smiled. “No tears. That’s great!”
I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “No tears.” I’d cried enough for a year. I wasn’t going to let Blake Carson squeeze another tear out of my overused tear ducts. My heels clicked across the slate. “In fact, I guess I’m going to need a badge for tomorrow morning.”
His wispy eyebrows shot up. “Well, all right. That’s wonderful.” At the computer, his fingers were far more nimble. He had a temporary badge printed out for me and instructions for the next day. Once I was entered into the system, I’d get a photo taken, as well as be microchipped.
Like a dog?
I frowned.
“It’s to be able to get in and out of the building. Mr. Carson takes security very seriously. Today was definitely an anomaly.”
“Good to know.”
“The building goes into lockdown at 2 a.m. every night.”
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”
George smiled. “You say that now, but Mr. Carson doesn’t exactly work on the nine-to-five kind of schedule. He has clients all over the world.”
Another surprise. “I’ll remember that.” I backed away from the desk and turned to the wide expanse of windows. Boston was in full bloom. Carson Covenant Inc. was right in the middle of the busiest part of the harbor. “Will I see you tomorrow, George?”
“Afraid not. Angie will be back tomorrow.”
“Well, then nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Ms. Copeland.”
I pushed open the doors to the vestibule. It was even more impressive on the exit. The glass artist in me was fascinated by the framework and the quality while the bitchy part of me wanted to leave a big ole palm print.
Too bad it was so fascinatingly resistant.
Again, I’d kill to have that kind of glass in my workshop. The glass would be quite amazing if it were done in a beveled style if the dome overhead was any indication.
I sighed and opened the door, and the life and heat of Boston slapped at me. It was October, but as usual, there were a few days that the mild weather near the water turned to an oppressive heat.
They were usually followed by a storm. My favorite kind of day.
I pulled my phone out and realized I had twenty minutes to kill before I could take the T back to where I’d parked. I wandered down the street and took the access street to the Harbor Walk. The street side access to his building was overwhelming, but the water side was breathtaking.
I tipped my head back to take it all in. The framework was almost non-existent in the late afternoon sun. Impressive didn’t even cover it. Finally, I turned and followed the older cobblestones by the water up to the smoother, updated path. The ferries were coming and going, and a fleet of personal boats bobbed in their docks. The briny scent of the harbor calmed me like nothing else.
Dealing with the cool and dispassionate Blake Carson had jangled more than my nerves.
