Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
I check my watch repeatedly, scanning for Eva outside Meadowbrook Brew. I'm early as usual, having secured our regular corner table twenty minutes before our scheduled meeting.
Our fourth work session in two weeks. Not that I'm counting.
I review my notes as the door chimes. Eva enters, curly hair in a messy updo, tote bag over her shoulder. When she spots me, her smile crinkles her eyes, triggering that familiar sensation in my chest.
"Morning," she says, sitting across from me. "Please tell me you haven't been waiting long."
"Just got here," I lie.
Eva raises an eyebrow. "Your coffee's half-empty."
"I'm a fast drinker."
"And your laptop's already set up with all your notes arranged in that freakishly organized way."
I laugh, caught. "Fine. Fifteen minutes, tops."
"Chronic punctuality disorder strikes again." She removes her jacket. "I'll grab coffee and be right back."
I watch her chat with Ryan the barista who knows her order. Eva notices details, remembers things, makes genuine connections effortlessly.
She returns with her latte and croissant. "Breakfast of champions. Want some?"
"I'm good."
"Your loss." She sips her latte. "What's on the agenda? I worked up sketches for our bridge concept."
"Before that, I wanted to run something by you." I show her an email. "The Chamber wants a preview of our branding at next Friday's business breakfast."
"A preview? We're still researching."
"Tom mentioned our concept to people. I see this as an opportunity to get early support."
"So what are you suggesting?"
"Let's refine your sketches into something presentable. Nothing final, just a direction."
"Who would present?"
"Both of us."
She pauses. "Both?"
"It's our concept. We should present together."
"But you're the chair. And the professional speaker."
"And you're the designer. The visionary." I meet her eyes. "You articulate ideas well. You just need a bigger platform."
She looks down. "I'm not great with crowds."
"Fifty people isn't a crowd."
"That's literally the definition of a crowd."
I laugh. "I'll be right there with you."
"Why is this important to you?" she asks directly. "Why not present yourself?"
Her directness catches me off guard.
"Because your ideas deserve to be heard directly from you. Because I'm tired of being the only voice people listen to. And because we created this together."
Eva softens. "Okay. But I reserve the right to hide behind you if necessary."
"Deal. Now show me these sketches."
She displays her tablet. She's transformed the bridge into an elegant, modern logo that incorporates the river with historical elements.
"Eva, this is exceptional."
She tucks her hair behind her ear. "It's just a rough concept."
"You've distilled Meadowbrook's character into a visual identity."
As she explains her design choices, she becomes animated and confident. I find myself watching her more than the screen.
"What about the tagline options?" she asks.
"'Where Tradition Meets Tomorrow.' Perfect."
"Too cheesy?"
"No, it acknowledges history while looking forward."
"I also tried 'Bridging Past and Future,' but it felt obvious."
"The first is stronger." I look up to find her watching me. "What?"
"It's refreshing to work with someone who gives direct feedback."
"I could say the same about you."
"We're a good team."
"We are." This feels significant. "Shall we develop this for the presentation?"
We spend an hour outlining our approach, her creativity complementing my strategy perfectly.
"I've got a meeting soon," I say, checking the time.
"I'll refine these sketches for Thursday's committee meeting."
"Perfect. We can rehearse next week."
As we leave, she says, "Thanks for pushing me. It's good to step outside my comfort zone."
"Your passion will connect with people."
Her gaze holds mine. "For someone with such a polished image, you're surprisingly good at seeing past facades."
"Maybe it takes one to know one."
She laughs softly. "Touché."
On the sidewalk, she asks, "Same time Thursday?"
"I'll be there. And I meant what I said about your designs."
She flushes slightly. "High praise from Meadowbrook's golden boy."
"I'm hardly that."
"I think there's more to James Adams than most people see."
I watch her leave, realizing Eva has somehow seen past my carefully constructed persona. And I feel relieved.
Thursday's committee meeting surpasses expectations. Eva presents our concept with quiet confidence that captivates everyone. Her design background gives her a visual language I lack, and I'm content letting her lead, stepping in only for implementation questions.
After she finishes, silence falls before Margaret speaks.
"It's beautiful. Modern but respectful of our history."
Even Harold from the historical society nods. "You've captured the bridge's essence without being literal."
Eva glances at me with a subtle smile. I give her a small nod: you did it .
"Are we in agreement to move forward?" I ask.
Tom raises his hand. "The Chamber will be pleased. It's professional, distinctive, and feels like Meadowbrook."
"Any concerns before we proceed?"
Margie asks if we'll present at next week's business breakfast, which we confirm.
"Smart move," Tom says. "Get them on board early."
Afterward, Eva graciously accepts congratulations, giving credit to our partnership and the committee. When the room empties, I turn to her.
"That went better than expected."
She exhales dramatically. "I was terrified."
"You couldn't tell. You were composed, articulate, persuasive."
"That's all outside." She mimics shaking hands. "Inside, complete meltdown."
"Your meltdown outshines most people's peak performance."
She laughs. "Now you're flattering me."
"Not my style."
"No," she agrees, studying me. "You're refreshingly honest. I like that about working with you."
Her admission warms me. "Likewise."
As we leave, I find myself reluctant to end the evening.
"Have you eaten?"
Eva looks surprised. "Not yet."
"There's O'Malley's around the corner. Best burgers in town. To celebrate our success."
She considers briefly. "I could eat. A burger sounds perfect."
At O'Malley's, we settle into a booth. "I can't believe I haven't been here," Eva says. "I've walked past dozens of times."
"It's a hidden gem. Built in 1875, originally the town's general store."
"Let me guess—owned by the Adams family?"
I laugh. "No, the O'Malleys. Same family five generations later."
Megan, our server who's known me since childhood, approaches.
"James Adams. Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy. How's your dad?"
"Stubborn as ever." She glances curiously at Eva. "Who's your friend?"
After introductions and ordering drinks, Eva says, "So this is what it's like being out with Meadowbrook royalty."
I wince. "Hardly royalty. Just been here a long time."
"Sorry, that came out wrong."
"It's fine. Sometimes I wish I could just be James. Not James Adams, community leader, motivational speaker, descendant of founders."
"The curse of being known," she nods. "Or known for a specific version of yourself."
"Exactly. You get it."
"More than you might think. In my last job, I was labeled 'difficult' for challenging bad design decisions."
Over burgers, our conversation flows from work to personal histories. I tell her about taking over my household at eighteen when my mother got sick.
"That explains why everyone sees you as the steady problem-solver," she observes.
When I ask about her, she explains she moved to Meadowbrook by chance, taking over a friend's lease.
"Just like that? You moved to a town where you knew no one?"
"I'm impulsive about big decisions. It's small ones that paralyze me."
"We're opposites then. I analyze major decisions to death but know exactly what I want in small things."
"Maybe that's why we work well together," she meets my eyes. "Balance."
Walking back to our cars, Eva promises, "Next time's on me."
Next time . The promise warms me more than it should.
"I had a really good time," she says as we reach her car.
"Thank you for coming. And for your brilliant work."
"We make a good team."
As I watch her drive away, I feel an unfamiliar lightness—anticipation rather than obligation when thinking about our next meeting.
For the first time in years, I'm not just going through motions. I'm feeling the uncertainty, connection, and possibility.
And for now, that's enough.