29. Chapter 29 #2
My sensible flats click against the marble floor.
While they’re not the designer heels I once wore daily, they’re not shelter sneakers, either.
I’ve struck a careful middle ground for this meeting: dark jeans that could pass for slacks, a crisp button-down, hair pulled back but allowed to maintain its natural curl.
It’s professional enough for Plaza Investments, and authentic enough for me.
Virginia’s eyes widen in recognition as I approach her desk. We worked closely together for several months. She was below me in the company, but I trained her. Knowing Julian’s system was so complicated, I focused on his process and left the smaller tasks to her.
“Mrs. Plaza,” she says, then quickly corrects herself. “I mean, Ms. Fallinger. How are you?”
The adjustment from my married name to my maiden name hangs awkwardly between us. I offer a smile that I hope communicates both confidence and ease.
“I’m well, thank you. Is Julian available? I don’t have an appointment, but it’s regarding a business matter.”
She nods. “Mr. Plaza is finishing up a conference call. Would you like to wait? I can let him know you’re here.”
“That would be great.”
I move to the waiting area, which is only a few steps away. This part of the office has a sort of fish-bowl design, with a waiting area in the middle and the offices surrounding it in a circle.
Since I have nothing to do but wait, I watch Virginia sit at what used to be my desk, efficiently organizing a stack of folders.
But I note how they’re not just any folders; they’re color-coded, arranged in the exact system I used during my years as Julian’s assistant.
Within each color, tabs are arranged chronologically, with sub-categories indicated by small colored dots.
It’s Julian’s system. Did she learn this herself?
There’s no way Julian taught her. Rather than teach, he’s more the ‘figure it out yourself’ sort of man.
That’s probably why he rated me favorably on his pro-con list for organizational skills.
He knew I’d naturally get his system with little direction.
Curiosity pulls me to her desk. “That’s quite an organizational system,” I say.
She glances down at the folders. “Oh, this? It took me a few weeks, but Mr. Plaza helped me figure it out.”
“He helped you?” I ask, sure that I misheard her.
“Mm-hmm,” she says as she staples a stack of papers. “He prefers physical copies, so I upload everything to the office’s system, then print copies for his filing cabinet.”
“Well, I’m glad it’s working for you,” I say, warmth spreading through my chest at this small Julian victory.
She nods enthusiastically. “Now that I understand it, it’s not so bad. Mr. Plaza was incredibly patient about showing me, which was surprising.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Between us, patience isn’t exactly his defining characteristic.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
Before I can process this further, Julian emerges from his office, pausing briefly when he sees me. His expression shifts to surprise.
“Elowen,” he says, my name coming out smoothly. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
I straighten my spine, professional mode activating. “I should have called first. If you’re busy—”
“I’m not,” he interrupts, then corrects himself. “That is, nothing that can’t wait. Would you like to come in?” He gestures toward his office.
“Thank you,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “I appreciate you making time.”
He steps aside to let me pass, exposing an office that is both achingly familiar and subtly changed.
The massive desk still dominates the space, but the formerly bare walls now hold framed photos.
There are Leo and Meredith at the park, a candid shot of Meredith with Pepper that must have been taken on his phone at the shelter.
It’s all evidence that our children exist even when they’re not physically present.
Spotting our wedding photo in the center, I rub my chest at a sudden ache.
“Please, sit,” he says, indicating the chairs arranged around a small table in the corner, rather than the visitor’s chair across from his desk.
Hmm. I don’t remember this being here. Good for him.
He may not realize it, but this choice feels deliberate.
It gives a feeling of equality, rather than a play on power dynamics.
“You look well,” he says, sitting across from me. His eyes meet mine directly.
“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” I ask, gesturing at the new table and wall photos. “I half-expect to find a corporate handbook on your desk titled ‘How to Appear Human’.”
“I didn’t find a handbook, but I did miss my family.” He looks at the photo of Meredith and Leo, his raw expression softening.
“The shelter seems to be going well,” he continues when I don’t immediately respond.
His genuine interest finally breaks through my confusion. Ready to discuss the real purpose of my visit, I say, “Actually, that’s why I’m here. The shelter has an opportunity that I think might interest Plaza Investments.”
Julian’s posture shifts subtly, professional focus replacing the casual conversation. “I’m listening,” he says, and I believe he actually is.
I reach into my bucket bag at my feet and pull up the presentation I’ve prepared onto the tablet inside.
I included blueprints, budgets, and timelines all in a simple PowerPoint.
Once the presentation loads, I slide the tablet across to him.
“The Trixie J Foundation is offering a grant of $250,000, but it requires corporate sponsorships to activate the funds.”
Julian studies the screen with focused attention. He swipes through the slides methodically, occasionally zooming in on particular details.