Chapter 9 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
@theanswerisno:
Thought you’d given up on our farm and become a respectable adult
@pancakesareelite:
I’ve had a rough week.
Will you water my crops?
@theanswerisno:
Of course. I’ll harvest them too
@theanswerisno:
Do you want to talk about it?
@pancakesareelite:
Not really
@pancakesareelite:
I appreciate the offer.
But I think I need to sleep.
@theanswerisno:
I’m sorry about your week
@pancakesareelite:
Thank you, Link <3
@theanswerisno:
Wait, quick one before you leave…
@pancakesareelite:
Hm?
@theanswerisno:
I like that you call me Link.
Legend of Zelda was one of my dad’s favorite games
@theanswerisno:
Night, Pancakes
@pancakesareelite:
You shared something with me!
Don’t go now! Stay! Tell me more!
@theanswerisno:
Ha. Sleep well, xx
When I left the Gordon-Bettencourt empire, I also left behind a life that no longer suited me. And it was heartbreaking to see how many of my so-called friendships relied on my access to fame.
But maybe I was the problem? Douglas always said I was. And right now, the only person who liked spending time with me didn’t know me in real life.
It had been three weeks of working with Lincoln Carden, and while he could now occasionally look in my direction, we were still pulling up short when it came to chitchat.
So when Richard, a fortysomething-year-old senior engineer who smiled at me often, struck up a conversation, I was more than happy to engage.
He raised a steaming pot of coffee in my direction. “Want some?”
“Absolutely.” I grabbed a mug and extended it. “I need at least two cups before I’m a functional human, three to function as an engineer.”
Richard chuckled as he filled my mug. My office humor was improving daily.
“Same here.” He set the pot back in the machine and added sugar to his coffee. “How’s the internship going? Which discipline are you enjoying the most?”
I grinned. “Roads.”
He made a show of rolling his eyes. “Roads. Who needs ’em?” He walked out of the kitchen, continuing the conversation. “That places you with Carden, doesn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Interesting.” Richard’s brows popped up. “You must be rather nervous about your evaluations.”
My heart rate doubled. “I’m terrified.”
“Carden is a tough one, but I guess you could ask your dad to buy Simucon if it doesn’t work out.”
I schooled my face, hoping it gave nothing away. The less Richard knew, the better, and there was no way I was about to offload my life’s drama on the nice man who always made an effort to greet me in the mornings.
Unlike my boss.
Mr. Carden was already at his desk as I nudged open the cracked door to our office. Hair wet, as usual. The deep frown between his eyebrows let me know I should move with caution.
“Your father’s been expanding his portfolio, hasn’t he?” Richard asked me while raising a mug in Mr. Carden’s direction as a greeting.
Mr. Carden nodded in response.
“Uh-huh, but I don’t think he’s ready for engineering just yet. Still mostly films and media…” I said, taking my seat and turning on my laptop. I wanted conversation, yes, but I didn’t want it to be about Douglas Gordon-Bettencourt.
“If all else fails, you could absolutely become an actress,” Richard added.
Mr. Carden’s head shot up, and the glare he delivered had the structural engineer retreating back to Bridges.
Mr. Carden’s gaze dropped without meeting mine, and he tugged his headset over his ears.
I tried not to take it personally but failed.
Over the last few weeks, there were moments when I felt like I’d decoded him.
It was addictive. I craved his validation.
I mean… he’s my boss. Everyone wants praise from their boss.
Ignoring the urge to say something, I opened my inbox and found seven new emails from Mr. Carden, where at least five could have been done in person through a three-second conversation.
I replied to them since he had his headset on. I wasn’t in the mood to swing my arms around and get his attention—which would probably leave him unimpressed.
His gaze lifted from his screen to me. My email landing in his inbox must have drawn his attention. I waved sheepishly, and despite knowing he wouldn’t hear me, said, “Good morning.”
He slid the headphones down to his neck and swiped a hand across his growing stubble. “Morning. I’ll be busy and on-site for the first half of the day, but when I get back, we can take a look at the Poplar and Azalea Road intersection.”
“Can I come with you?” I asked, and pointed at the pair of worn-out secondhand safety boots I’d bought online.
He shook his head, and my face must have fallen because something in his gaze softened. “Not today. All we’re doing today is fighting. It’s not a good introduction, and you won’t learn anything except maybe a few new swear words.”
“I know I’ve underwhelmed you with my technical abilities, but I could definitely impress you with my foul language.”
He shook his head, and his tight shoulders relaxed for a moment. If I could see his face, I’d bet the corner of his mouth would have twitched into an almost-smile.
He grabbed a rolled-up drawing off his desk and handed it to me. “Focus on fixing this alignment. We’ll review it when I get back.”
He walked back to his desk, taking a long moment to stare at it. His eyes darted around as he seemed to make a mental checklist of which items he’d need.
Then he gathered his things and was gone.
Replaced by Mr. Anders, who was one of those men who were always making jokes that bordered on offensive but wasn’t quite enough for you to ever call him out on it.
Plus, he was the boss, my boss’s boss, and I wanted this job enough to laugh at whatever under-thought-of pun he sent my way.
Simucon’s reputation and higher salaries would be worth it.
“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked, walking into the office in the one second I took to reapply my lipstick in my selfie camera.
I laughed awkwardly and pressed my lips together.
“Carden hasn’t given me an update on you in a while. I’ve heard from everyone else.”
“He’s been swamped,” I said, unsure if I was defending Mr. Carden or myself. My mouth went dry with that awful feeling of falling behind.
He snickered. “It’s not too late to switch disciplines.”
For a second, I considered how effortless it would be to get the senior engineer I’d spoken to this morning to provide feedback. Mr. Carden on the other hand…
I accidentally exhaled out loud.
Mr. Anders narrowed his eyes. “I’m aware Carden isn’t the easiest person to work with, and if you have any complaints about him, I’m all ears. We, at Simucon, pride ourselves on this internship, and our mentors and managers need to meet the high standards we’ve set.”
“He’s perfect,” I replied in one quick breath, despite wanting more from Mr. Carden. “I have no complaints.”
Mr. Anders nodded. “Well, that’s good to know.
Carden is the best of the best in traffic and geometric design.
” He walked around to Mr. Carden’s desk.
“He single-handedly designed the widening of the highway between Freeland and Disselweed, including every interchange upgrade along that twenty-five-mile stretch of mountainous road, and he did it in half the allocated time. We made a fortune.”
My jaw dropped. I knew Mr. Carden was brilliant, but somehow he kept surprising me.
“If he wasn’t so good, I wouldn’t have kept him around,” he said with a laugh.
“What?” I squawked out.
Mr. Anders leaned down and picked up a framed certificate hanging in the corner, below eye level.
“This is an award given to him by the ICTTE for his research for pedestrian safety or whatever he did at UCLA to get that PhD, and look at where he keeps it. It’s almost face down.
” Mr. Anders placed it back with care. “They’ve invited him back this year, and do you know how I found out?
His name was in the mailer sent out by the conference. You’d think he’d tell his boss.”
“Wow” was all I’d managed. “I didn’t know he had a PhD.”
Should I be calling him Dr. Carden?
Mr. Anders walked back to the doorway and turned to face me. “Gordon-Bettencourt, that’s what you’re up against. Engineers who want nothing more than to solve the problems I give them. Do you have that or are we wasting our time here?”
“I…” I started, self-doubt flooding my bloodstream. Still, I managed to say, “Yes, I do. I can. I will.”
He looked back at Mr. Carden’s desk. “Granted, if Carden could have an ounce of your charm, that would certainly make things easier.” He chuckled to himself as if there was something I didn’t know.
Before he left, he turned around. “By the way, I hear your father’s bought shares in a new social media platform.”
“Seems to be the talk of the town.”
I’d seen it on the news like he did. If he was looking for an exclusive, I didn’t have it.
“Do you see him regularly?” he asked.
“He’s a busy man,” I bit out as politely as possible, hoping my pale cheeks weren’t reddening with guilt, shame, anger, and all the other awful feelings turning up with the thought of him.
Instead, I offered Mr. Anders the smile that earned me many favors.
“But when he’s in town, I’ll tell him to come around to the office. ”
“I’d love to meet him. Let him know I’d be honored to take him out for dinner and drinks.” Mr. Anders narrowed his eyes, his head tilting. It was as though he was trying to calculate exactly how much I was worth.
Not that his guess would be anywhere near the truth. I resisted the urge to squirm.
One of the other interns came rushing into the office, and Mr. Anders stepped back, saluting me before going to bother the next person, I presume.
Cedric, the number one on the intern list, rested his hands on my desk. “Can I see your latest design for the Groveport interchange? I’ve been working on the bridges, but I need to make sure we’re on the same page before that technocrat of yours gets back here and tears me a new one.”
“You mean Mr. Carden?”
He nodded, his nostrils flaring. “The man’s insane. No one cares for that much detail, and I shouldn’t be forced to design to the nth degree. My designs were fine. Mr. Fischer approved it, but Carden took one look and found like fifty problems.”
“His attention to detail is pretty phenomenal.” I don’t know why, but there was an urge to defend him and each of the interns seemed to feel that way about the heads of their chosen departments.
It was as though we needed to prove we’d made the right choice and somehow their credibility reflected our own.
That and Mr. Carden’s attention to detail was more than phenomenal.
Cedric huffed. “Yeah, whatever. Well, I don’t want him to do it again. It was embarrassing enough the first time.”
I opened our latest design and emailed it to him. “Just sent it.”
“Thanks,” he said, and spun around.
“Hey, before you leave,” I called, “could you show me how to import your design?”
An eyebrow popped up. “You don’t know how? That was like the first thing I learned.”
Blood rushed to the tips of my ears, and I imagined they went as red as my hair. “Well, I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”
A laugh squeezed through his smug grin. “Well, good luck figuring it out, Seven.”
And with that, he turned around and left.
I swallowed the growl threatening and shut my eyes. He was right about one thing, though: now I would figure it out. Without his or anyone else’s help.