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Chapter 19
“Did you hear?” Douglas, one of the architects on the Systems Development Team, scooted his roller chair closer to Rory’s desk. Which was all of two inches, considering the office desks were crammed together like Legos in order to promote “collaborative ideation.”
“Hear what?” Rory kept her gaze on the computer screen.
Almost two weeks into her new job, the work was progressing well. She cautiously liked her other team members—Winkey-Face jerk aside, a mid-twenties guy named John who thankfully was working on a different project. For now.
Douglas seemed like a reasonably good guy, but Rory was keeping her guard firmly in place. He was one of six other people working on the cloud-based system that Rory had also been assigned.
“The C-suite approved a research team dedicated to developing cloud applications with built-in AI systems.” His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “They haven’t picked a project manager or a technical lead yet.”
Rory suppressed a surge of hope. “Well, neither one will be me. I just started working here.”
“Rumor has it you might’ve been hired with the Principal Engineer position in mind.” Douglas rubbed his scraggly goatee. “Obviously, we won’t know until it’s a done deal, but you’re being watched.”
He nodded toward Brenda Davis, one of the few women in the company and the supervisor of the Systems Development Team. “Brenda’s in line for the manager slot. Stay alert.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Can I have one of those?” Douglas indicated the open bag of Sour Patch Kids on her desk.
“Help yourself.”
He shook a few pieces of the candy into his palm and rolled back to his desk. Rory pulled on her noise-cancelling headphones, which was the only way she could disassociate herself from the surrounding activity.
Desks, chairs, and computers cluttered the open space of the Digicore office, which had been nicknamed The Hive. It was larger than an airplane hangar with concrete walls, exposed pipes, and only a narrow row of high windows. The ceilings created an echo from the hundreds of conversations zinging around.
Rory’s desk was smack dab in the middle of the chaos. She’d gotten accustomed to working in the silence of her own apartment in Bliss Cove, so it was jarring to be immersed in constant noise and activity—keyboard clicking, people talking, papers rustling, chairs squeaking, phones buzzing nonstop. Her headphones only went so far, as none of her new colleagues were above tapping her on the shoulder or nudging into her peripheral vision to get her attention.
She’d get used to it, she kept telling herself. The work itself was the most energizing part of her new environment—a hotbed of ideas about artificial intelligence, platforms and integrations, and endless possibilities for innovation.
If only she could somehow share this life with Grant. Their conversations at night were warm, but short-lived. His talk about the Mousehole and Bliss Cove created an ache of longing in her chest, and she frequently cut him short to avoid feeling lonelier than she already was.
Her responses to his queries about her life—had she found a favorite restaurant yet, visited the museums, gone to a show at the performing arts center—were always“not yet.”And recounting her workday was an exercise in sheer boredom.
The really pathetic part was that she had nothing else to talk about. Grant understood much of the minutiae of her work and never seemed bored when she discussed it, but he’d turned his back on technology long ago. Why would he be interested in listening to details about neuromorphic chips and GPUs?
“One of my coworkers told me they’re looking for someone to lead a new AI cloud project,” she told him during their call that night. She rested her head back on the pillows and looked at Bob the Fish, who was hanging on the opposite wall. “He said I was in the running, but I’m not so sure.”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
“They’re not going to assign the new kid as the lead.”
“The new kid in question is Rory Prescott. No one deserves to lead a team more than you.”
Rory let out her breath slowly. Did he miss her as much as she missed him?
She’d gotten accustomed to her solitary, work-centric lifestyle over the past couple of years, but in Bliss Cove she’d had her mother, her sisters, her friends. She’d had the bakery, the boardwalk, the crash and roll of the ocean, the achingly familiar sea air. She’d had Grant, as dependable as the tides.
“So what else is going on in town?” she asked.
“At the town meeting last night, Mayor Bowers announced that we need a pie shop either downtown or on Mariposa Street. She’s planning to try and convince your mother to open a branch of Sugar Joy called Sugar Pie.”
Rory laughed. “Mom didn’t tell me that.”
“She might not know yet. She was over at the high school last night helping with the bake sale fundraiser for the orchestra.”
“Well, she might be convinced. Even though we don’t sell pie at Sugar Joy, everyone knows that my mom makes the best apple pie in town.”
