Relative Design

Anabel had spent the entire weekend with family and had only gotten to unpacking the night before, with much needed help from Eliza, and then she’d barely gotten any sleep thanks to nerves. But Monday morning, she managed to get it all together, arriving to work on time with her hair and makeup done perfectly.

Standing in the middle of her relatively small office, she looked around, rather pleased with herself anyway. The view outside her window showed some bridge, the water glistening like a collection of diamonds under it. With a deep breath, she turned and sat behind her desk. Just as she hit the power button on her computer, someone knocked on her door.

She jumped, startled, much to his amusement. When her eyes met his, they widened in surprise.

“Anabel.”

“Adam,” she said, getting to her feet. “Hi, how are you?” Noticing his suit, she glanced down at her desk, the calendar there. “Are you my eleven o’clock?” she asked, then looked at the watch that showed it was only a few minutes past nine.

“Can’t say I am,” he said, just as confused as her. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I, uhm, started this morning,” she said nervously. He seemed… good. The five o’clock shadow she remembered him always sporting had been shaved clean, to go with his suit, she assumed, and his smile was light, friendly, if a little hesitant.

“Ah. I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you later.”

“O—okay,” she said, watching him go from the glass wall of her office, a petite girl holding a—was that a clipboard?—and pen following after him.

What the hell was that about?

Pushing it to the back of her mind, she sat and prepared for her meeting.

Outside, Adam glanced over his shoulder at his assistant. “Amanda, what do you know about Anabel?”

“Anabel, Anabel, Anabel,” she chanted under her breath, glancing at the tablet she held.

“Reid,” he finished helpfully, making her smile.

“Ah, Anabel Reid. Started this morning, like she said. She just moved back from Europe where she was working at an impressive architecture firm right out of college before we snagged her. She’s very impressive, one of the best and youngest in the field of her interest. She’d scored an internship with a top firm the summer after her first year in school.”

He nodded thoughtfully, stepping into his office. “Who’s her eleven o’clock?”

“Uhm… Mr. Hardman.”

One of his best clients. “Ask him to stop by my office after his meeting if possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Amanda.”

She nodded and stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Well, what do you know?

***

He knew she was good at her job simply from her client base. The fact that she’d been given some of the company’s best clients spoke volumes, as did the praises those clients sang when stopping by his office after their meetings. The people who requested her personally were high profile, and high maintenance.

He was, to put it simply, impressed. Enough that he kept himself from wandering by her office, just to see what she was doing, how she was handling everything. It’d been a week since their accidental run in, and so far so good.

Sitting in his office, he leaned back, threw the baseball he held in the air, caught it. Got to his feet, stared out the window as he threw the ball from hand to hand.

At the knock on his door, he turned back, called out for whoever it was to come in.

Amanda poked her head in, coffee cup in hand. “Sir, your afternoon coffee.”

“Thanks, Amanda,” he said distractedly. “Can you get me the file on Eliot Winston? And the profile we have on him?”

“Yes, sir. Is he being fussy with the designs?”

“I want to see what he’s done in the past, work from there so I get a sense of his taste.”

“You’ll hate it, very flashy,” she said, then flushed when Adam raised an eyebrow and grinned. “The files, right, sir. Sorry, excuse me.”

She was new, as new as him, and still got nervous, much to his dismay. If they could just skip this, neither of them would have to be so formal anymore. And dammit, he hated being uncomfortable in his own office.

She stepped back in, placed the file on his desk before him. “Sorry about earlier, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

“Amanda, I appreciated your honesty, so please stop apologizing. And please, for the love of god, stop calling me sir.”

She blinked, once, twice, then simply nodded. “Yes, s—Mr. Martin. Thank you.”

He sighed when she was gone, slumped in his seat, and rubbed his head. It was going to be a long day.

Across the office, the ambience was much different. Anabel laughed at her client’s fairly pathetic joke, pleased he’d liked her ideas for his new vacation home. It’d been a week she’d been here now, and so far she had yet to deal with anything she couldn’t handle. Jonathon Edge at fifty-something was a lock in, a client who required as little fuss as possible.

So far, he was her favorite.

“Anyway, thank you for your time, Ms. Reid. I look forward to the start of this project of ours.”

“As do I, Mr. Edge,” Anabel said, smiling as she stood and walked him to her office door. “We should be able to have everything ready by the end of this week, and we should be starting early next week.”

“Sounds wonderful. Have a great day, Ms. Reid.”

“Thank you, you too.”

When he left, she all but skipped back to her desk, ecstatic. God, it had been a good first week. Good enough that, when Zoe texted her about after work drinks, she agreed.

She met Anabel below her office, greeting her with a small hug. “Tell me everything! How was your first week?”

“Great. No trouble so far, but it’s only been a week.”

“Are you kicking some designing ass?”

“I’m trying. Either all our clients are upscale or they’ve just been handed off to me. Which, I think, is a good sign.”

They began walking towards a bar a couple of blocks away, Zoe leading the way there. “It seems like a good sign. So you like your office and the people and stuff?”

“I’ve been swamped all week. Seriously, I’ve only stepped out of my office for coffee. I’ve yet to speak to most of my coworkers.”

“Anabel! What’re you doing? Besides slacking, I mean.”

“I’ll get to it.”

She studied her from the corner of her eye. “I remember you being much more social.”

“I’m still social, but I just started. I can’t spend most of my time chatting with coworkers. Yet, anyway.”

She laughed with her as they stepped into the bar, going straight to the bar. “What’re you drinking?”

“I don’t know. Guess I’ll stick to the reliable vodka cran.”

“Okay, cool. It’s on me.”

“No, Zoe—”

“Consider it a welcome back thing,” she said airily, leaning further over the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey, two vodka crans, please.”

When two barstools side by side emptied, they took the seats, Anabel asking how Zoe’s classes had gone.

“Oh, I intern on Fridays,” Zoe said, taking a sip and making a face. “I never get used to this stuff.”

“Vodka crans?”

“Vodka.” She laughed. “Anyway, yeah, I intern on Fridays.”

“At your dad’s firm?”

“God, no. I interned there my first year, just to be able to put it on my resume, but… it’s not the same, you know? Working for your dad? Everyone treats you differently. Here… it’s a lot more work, but I like it. It’s real, you know?”

“I guess I can see how that would feel. It’s more independent.”

“Exactly! In my head, I was like it’s grown up, but I like the way you put it better.” She sighed, shaking her head. “God, can you believe we’re all grown up? I’m finishing law school, you’ve got this high-class job. I still remember partying every weekend.”

Anabel laughed, tapping her fingers against the bar. “Me too. I haven’t done that since that summer before I left.”

“And you were barely in any clubs that summer.”

“It was a crazy summer.” And still she felt nostalgic thinking about it. “Oh, speaking of that summer, guess who I saw bright and early Monday morning.”

“Who?”

“Adam.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she put down her glass with a sharp click. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah. I guess he’s like a client or something, but—”

“No, I know he—”

“Oh, excuse me,” a short, wavy haired brunet interrupted after accidentally bumping into Anabel’s shoulder. “Oh! Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Ana Reid?”

“Anabel. Yes, uhm…?”

“Claire,” she finished, smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you. How was your first week?”

“It was great, thanks.”

“I’m—oh, I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Claire,” she said, extending a hand towards Zoe.

“Hey, Zoe.”

“Great meeting you. Why don’t the both of you join us? Me and a couple of people from the office have a booth back there.”

“Sure!” Zoe said, shrugging when Anabel glanced at her. “We’d love to, thanks.”

“We'll chat later,” Zoe murmured as they followed Claire to the table.

“Sure. Thanks for this, by the way.”

“Shut up and enjoy it.”

Because it seemed like good advice, that was exactly what she did.

***

Anabel looked up from the papers she’d spread out in front of her on the coffee table, glancing at the clock. She hadn’t made any plans, had she? Eliza and Will had gone for a movie, insisting she come with, before finally leaving about an hour ago when she explained she was tired and had stuff she needed to catch up on.

Maybe they forgot their keys, she thought, getting to her feet and rubbing her eyes. But what movie was so short?

She studied Beckett through bleary eyes after she pulled open the door, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey. Nice surprise seeing you. Where’s everyone else?”

“We don’t travel in hordes, you know.”

She laughed, getting out of the doorway and letting him in. “Yeah, yeah. What’re you doing here?”

“Just stopping by to say hi. Where’s the happy couple?”

“Out at the movies. Said you might be joining them.”

“Didn’t.” He peered in the living room, noticed the floor plans and blue prints and magazines scattered on the table. “What’ve you been up to all alone here? Get into any trouble yet?”

“Do I look like I’ve been getting in trouble?” she asked rhetorically, rolling her eyes when he glanced over his shoulder as if to check.

A tank, baggy stay-at-home pants, a ponytail. No, she hadn’t been getting into any trouble at all. “Want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Get in trouble. We could order Chinese, raid the pantry.”

“Skip the Chinese. Just let me finish up in here,” she said, kneeling in front of the table and picking up her pencil.

“Hold on a minute. What’s all this?”

“Hmm? Oh, the living room of my client’s new home.”

“How’s it going?”

“Good. He wanted the walls kept white so we’re going to repaint and this…” She pointed at the floor plan. “This is what I plan on doing to that room.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Oh. Okay. Well.” He wondered if she was aware of the way her voice changed, how it got brisker, more professional. “I’m on the living room right now. This here,” she pointed at a rectangle drawn on the graph paper that was her floor plan, “is the sofa, for now. He’s been going with the whole man cave idea, but I’m thinking of changing things around.” She lifted the graph paper with a flourish, rolled it up and set it under the table. Under the original floor plan was another. “I was thinking something more like this. We’d switch out the boring two-sofa set for this sectional, in the brown leather he wanted, with the window along the back here. Put a coffee table here, something small, smaller than this table here, and I was thinking maybe something a square rather than a rectangle, with sharper edges, to appeal to the man. The entertainment set would be here, with the flat screen TV here, across the sofa. I’m still working things out, like if the entertainment set should be glass or whatever. He wants to be included in the details of it all so I haven’t planned any further than that yet. I have to pitch it this Tuesday afternoon. I've been having trouble catering to his taste so I'll just have to see how it goes.”

“Sounds great,” he said, still distracted by the fact that his sister was sitting at home alone on a Saturday night, working. “You seem to be doing well.”

“Well, I’m trying. The client has some of his old stuff he wants that he’ll be bringing pictures and measurements of so we’ll see how it goes.” She pushed away the paper revealing another sheet of graph paper, got her ruler. “Start making the popcorn while I finish up.”

He nodded and went into the kitchen, set the popcorn in the microwave. When he came back out, the coffee table had been cleared, all her plans rolled up, the magazines stowed away. “Anabel?”

“Here,” she said, somewhere from the other side of the stairs.

Brow furrowed, he followed her voice as she called out “Polo!” to his “Marco?”

He found her in the den, where he’d left his monster TV before moving out, looking at their movie collection.

“I’ve got popcorn.”

“Cool. Is there anything you want to watch?”

“Not really.” He turned on the TV, flipped channels, stopped at a nineties sitcom.

She looked up immediately, her lips curving up. “Oh, I love this episode!”

“The first season should be there somewhere, if you want to watch it.”

“Where?”

“Uh, check the bottom shelf.”

She picked out the box and set it aside. “I’ll put it on after this episode.”

“Sounds good to me.” He watched her step over the beanie bag, grinning. “How much does this room annoy the interior designer in you?”

“Not at all.” When she tripped over a particularly hideous area rug he’d put on the floor, she grimaced. “Okay, maybe a little. How did you ever think this couch matched with that rug? And what drove you to buy a plaid couch again?”

“It’s cozy.”

“It’s going eat us both.”

“It’ll be a comfortable death.”

“It still doesn’t match that rug of yours.”

“The rug is cozy too though.”

“Is that your only argument?”

“I’m not a girl. I don’t pick appearance over comfort.”

She fixed her best glare on him. “Go far, far away. Leave the popcorn.”

“I’m not going anywhere away from my rug and couch. Show’s back on.”

“Then shut up already. God.” She turned to the screen, trying to keep from laughing. He read the humor in her features, contemplated dumping the popcorn on her head.

Nah, he decided, waste of good popcorn. That he hadn’t burned for a damn change.

When Anabel stopped periodically reaching over for popcorn a good hour or so later, he glanced over and was surprised to find her deeply asleep, her hands tucked under her head and her legs pulled up to her chest.

Sighing, he stood and turned the TV off, pulling the equally hideous throw off the armrest (he had to continue with the ugly theme—his sister was an interior designer after all) and throwing it over the sleeping girl. She was going to wake up screaming, he thought with a grin as he turned the lights off on his way out of the den, when she woke up to all that ugly.

He ran into Will and Eliza on his way out, after dumping the kernels in the trash and the bowl in the sink, leaving the porch light on for them as apology for the dirty bowl. “Oh, hey, guys. How was the movie?”

“It was good—”

“By which my dear husband means stupid,” Eliza interjected rolling her eyes. “What’re you doing here, Beck? Please don’t tell me you were checking up on Anabel.”

“I’m sure he was just coming by to hang out, right, Beck?” Will defended, shutting up when the woman at his side elbowed him.

“Exactly. Have a little faith, Liza. We were just watching TV together. She’s asleep on the sofa in the den.”

“She actually touched that thing?”

“It’s a very comfortable sofa,” he said heatedly. “What is everyone’s problem?”

“It’s bloody ugly, mate. Sorry,” Will said, almost sympathetically. “You have to know that.”

“But it’s—”

“Comfortable. We know. Still ugly.” Eliza hesitated. “So what was she doing? When you got home?”

“I thought we weren’t keeping tabs on her?”

“Oh, shut up and spill.”

He rocked on his heels, glancing back at the house. “She was spending her Saturday night at home, working.”

“She was working?”

“She seemed to be enjoying it even though she was obviously exhausted, don’t get me wrong, it’s just so…”

“Unlike her?” Will supplied, shrugging when they both turned to look at him. “What? I’ve heard stories. And I met her that summer, in case you all forgot.”

“Have you seen a change in her?” Eliza asked, eyes narrowed.

“Well, sure. It’s hard not to.”

“It’s weird,” Beckett muttered.

“I think she’s just grown up, that’s all.”

“Responsibility and all that?” Eliza asked, considering it.

“Could be. Listen,” Beckett said, glancing at his watch, “I’ve gotta run. I’ll catch up with—”

“Wait, Beck. We need to tell her about Eric.”

He looked at his sister for a moment before nodding. “I know. Uhm. I’m working up to it.”

“She’s not an idiot. She’s respecting you enough to give you the time to approach the subject but her patience level wasn’t ever very high.”

“I know, I know.” He scowled. “I said I’m getting around to it, didn’t I?”

“If you’d told us then you wouldn’t have to get around to it now,” Eliza snapped in reaction to his attitude.

Will sighed, wished for the trillionth time that Anabel were around to pry them apart. “Guys, stop it. It’s late and if either of you think Anabel would be okay causing problems with you two by returning you’re both—” He managed, just barely, to break off in time. “Well, Beckett, then you’d be an idiot. And Eliza, love, you’d be very, very wrong.”

“Nice save,” the two said in nearly the same dry tone before glancing at each and smiling.

“Okay, Beckett. You take your time. Just don’t wait too long.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Get home safe.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later, man.”

“Sounds good. You still coming over to watch that game?” Will asked, pulling out his keys.

“Yeah. See you then.”

He waited until they’d gone inside to drive away. Pulling out his phone, he called his bank, using the automated system to check his balance.

Fifteen grand less, just as he’d expected.

***

Anabel slumped in her seat, sighing. When someone knocked and poked their head in, she jumped.

“Oh, sorry for scaring you,” Claire said with a big smile. “You doing okay?”

“Oh. Well. Yeah, I think.”

“Trouble with Ms. Jones?”

“She has a particularly… repelling bedroom set she can’t seem to part ways with.”

“Oh, that white thing with that… frilly looking stuff?”

“And the cherubs. What is that?”

“That’s rhetorical, right?”

“I— I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that room if she wants to keep that thing.”

“You’ll figure it out. I did her house for a party she was hosting once. Still gives me shudders.”

“I don’t want to know. Really, I don’t.”

“I wouldn’t put you through that, honey. Anyway, I just stopped by to say hi,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I have this meeting in five, so I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sure.” Recovering slightly, barely, she went downstairs for lunch, still in a daze. Who owned something like that?

“Anabel?”

She glanced over, smiled as she moved away from the crosswalk to the food cart. “Hey, you again. What’re you doing here?”

Adam took the pretzel from the vendor, handed over the cash. “I was just taking a break. Where are you headed?”

“Uhm, that café down there. I'm on my lunch break.”

“Lucky you,” he said, offering his pretzel then breaking off a piece for himself when she shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll manage one of those today.”

“You… work here?” she asked, though his suit already told her he did.

“Yeah. Today’s one of those days I hate it, considering all the paperwork I have to do.”

“I bet. What—uhm, what about your band?”

He let out the short, almost baffled laugh that begged to be released. “I can’t believe you remember that. I hardly do. Seems like forever ago.”

“What, uh, happened?”

“Nothing, really. I just had to… prioritize. I can fill you in later if you’re really interested, but right now I have to get back to my office before my next meeting. I’m sorry, Anabel.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding, not used to being brushed off. “Sure.”

“Listen, why don’t we do drinks or something? Dinner? Whatever you want.”

She barely hesitated. “I’m available Saturday night.”

“You still at your old place?”

“For now, yeah.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven. Sorry, again.” His smile was apologetic and then he was pulling out his phone, answering as he walked away.

She knew going out with a previous fling was a bad idea, but…

She pulled out a phone and texted both her sister and Zoe.

***

“I brought wine,” Zoe announced as she stepped through the threshold, toed off her shoes.

“I stocked up on chocolate,” Eliza added.

“And I ordered pizza. Just because, you know, my misfortune demands that all this occur in my house,” Will said, pushing down the lid of his laptop as he stood from the table. “I’m going before any of you can kick me out. If anyone needs my manly assistance, you can find me moping in my office upstairs.”

Anabel laughed, touching his shoulder as he passed by her. “Thank you, Will.”

“Absolutely. Save me some of that pizza, would you?”

“I’ll make sure to.”

“Great, thanks.”

They waited for a minute until they were certain he’d gone before pouncing.

“Okay, Anabel. Spill. Why the emergency girl meeting?”

“Better question,” Eliza started, pouring herself a glass of water, “what’d you do? Do we need shovels and clothes we won’t mind burning?”

“No,” Anabel said, laughing. “God, no. Just, uhm… I might’ve done something stupid today.”

“That’s not surprising. Continue,” Eliza said, gesturing with her glass when Anabel shot her a look.

“What kind of stupid?” Zoe asked, pouring the wine.

“Really stupid. I, uhm, ran into Adam today—”

“Did you—”

“Shut up, Eliza. It was during my lunch break—”

“In that little time?”

“Eliza, dammit!” she laughed, shaking her head. “Stop it!”

“You did this to me plenty when you were younger.”

“Well, I was young and stupid.”

“As opposed to now, when you’re old and stupid?”

“I’m smarter than you.”

“Oh, sweetie.”

“Shut up.”

“Original. Really.”

“You want to hear the rest of it or not?”

She mimed zipping her lips and locking them, then throwing away the key.

“I haven’t seen anyone do that since like the second grade,” Zoe commented lightly.

“My sister never did grow up. No,” Anabel said quickly when Eliza opened her mouth. “You threw away the key, remember? Anyway, so Adam. I think I agreed to go to dinner or something with him this Saturday.”

“You think?” Eliza repeated.

“Dinner or something?” Zoe asked, blushing when they both looked at her. “I think I’m focusing on the wrong thing here. You think?”

Anabel laughed, running her hands through her hair. “I think. It happened very quickly. He asked about dinner or drinks, whatever I want, on Saturday. I agreed. He said he’d pick me up at seven.”

“Uh-huh…?” Eliza prompted.

“Well, I don’t know. Is it really a good idea, considering our history?”

Eliza and Zoe exchanged a look. “And there’s the problem,” the former said, understanding.

“Is it really that big a deal?”

“Is it not?” Anabel asked, truly curious. “I mean, it didn’t end badly, just… awkwardly.”

“Well… I just think for it to end, it’d had to have started, you know? And, I don’t know, I’m engaged to his best friend. We talk, Adam and I. I see him a lot, then and now. And I don’t think you guys had really started. You were just…”

“Just?”

“He was really into you, Anabel. I know for you it was a casual sex thing—” She grimaced, glancing at Eliza. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I know that.”

“Right. Well, for you, that’s all it was, I know, but it wasn’t like that for him. This is like his second go at what could have been. So, considering how one sided it was, I don’t think that was an ending. I think all of that may have just been the beginning.”

“He told you all this? That he was into her and stuff?”

“He didn’t have to.”

“Aren’t we, maybe, thinking of this a little bit too much like women? It’s too… mushy. I get what you’re saying, Zoe, but it’s like you’ve put a big romantic spin on the whole thing. I’m fairly certain it was just sex for both of us.”

“You’re wrong. He wouldn’t have taken you out if it was just sex. Maybe to coffee, but not the places he actually took you to.”

“But—”

“I was here after you left, Anabel. I saw him. He wasn’t, like, wearing a big I-Just-Got-Dumped sign or anything, but you could tell he was a little confused and stuff about the way things had gone with you two. And you could definitely tell he wasn’t exactly happy.”

“I doubt he was all broken up about it—”

“He wasn’t. I’m not saying he was. After all, you were only together like a month. I’m just saying it didn’t sit as well with him as did with you.”

“She’s not saying you were at fault for anything, Anabel,” Eliza said softly, “she’s just giving you all the facts and telling you what’s what.”

Anabel sipped her wine to give herself time to respond. “So you think I should go for it.”

“I think…”

“Wait,” Eliza butted in, leaning forward. “Anabel, you agreed. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Think about it.”

She huffed. “I don’t know. I guess… I liked being with him that summer. Everything was all… crazy as it was. It didn’t seem so odd dating this musician for a while who could not only hold a conversation but also happened to be great in bed.”

“Go back to the conversation part,” Eliza advised.

“What about it? I could talk to him. I… I liked talking to him.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Zoe said, sitting back. “Do you remember what you guys spoke about?”

“Things were weird at home. He could always tell when something was up. He’d talk to me about that a lot.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know. Stupid stuff. We’d joke around and stuff. I don’t remember.”

“You remember enough. Admit it, Anabel, you like him.”

She laughed, slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t—”

“You like him enough to go out with him. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So it’s settled,” Eliza said authoritatively. “You’ll go out with him then dish out details Sunday morning over breakfast.”

As if to prove that the matter really was settled, the doorbell rang.

“And that’ll be the pizza. See? Settled. We’ll decide on your outfit after we eat.”