Chapter 6
W hile perfect for a boardroom, her heels, skirt, and pearls were not what others wore in a building supply store.
Fiona stepped aside for a burly man in work boots carrying a lighting fixture to exit.
From the entryway, she scanned the store and spotted the windows of the second-floor offices.
Her gaze tracked down and located the doorway on the back wall.
She nodded at an employee by the cash register and made her way through the aisles of hammers, screwdrivers, and other handheld tools.
The faint smell of burnt popcorn tickled her nose, and a power saw droned in the distance.
She headed up the stairs and stood on the landing, taking in the four doorways; the bathroom, the break room, a small filing room, and an open doorway through which she could hear Hilary’s voice.
She followed the sound and stood in the entrance to a conference room.
Hilary waved at her and held up a finger, indicating she would be done with her phone call shortly.
She hadn’t given Fiona much detail about why they were meeting at KBS, only saying they had another avenue to explore for people in the trades who wanted to further their education.
Finding a date and time that worked was the hard part, as both women were up their eyeballs in commitments.
Fiona smiled and walked toward the large table, and placed her bag on the seat of one of the six chairs. The table butted up against a wall of windows. On the creamy yellow walls hung the photographic history of KBS.
She stepped toward the first photo and followed the progress of the company. Iris and her husband Darryl in front of the original storefront, then a photo of Iris, Darryl, and a young Eddie near a stack of lumber. It was a photograph she’d never seen before.
She hadn’t known her father-in-law well.
Partially because he died not long after she and Eddie were married and partially because Eddie didn’t want her to interact with his parents.
Eddie, as a gap-toothed boy, looked so innocent and harmless.
Not for the first time, Fiona wondered what prevented him from being happy, triggering his need to hurt others.
Dismissing the dismal thought, she moved on to the next picture.
A photo of Vincent, Tomas, Carl, and the first graduating class of Keeney Builds in front of a tiny house.
Fiona stepped closer to the wall to inspect the photo.
She told herself she was looking at the students, but her eyes focused on Tomas.
He was turned slightly away from the camera, toward Vincent, and was…
smiling? Laughing? Fiona shook her head, not believing that the intimidating Aztec god of a man was capable of laughing.
She turned her head at a sound behind her.
As if studying his image had brought him to her, Tomas stood in the doorway.
His gaze fixed on hers, he tipped his chin at her, gave a small wave to Hilary, and went to the table to pull out a chair and sit.
Fiona was in a quandary. Hilary was still on the phone. If she sat at the table—which was the polite thing to do—she’d have to talk to Tomas and make conversation. She’d known he’d be here. Hilary had said so on the phone, but Fiona hadn’t prepared for his presence.
That was a lie.
She’d spent the night worrying about what to wear.
In her mind, she’d tried on and discarded numerous combinations of skirts, blouses, and jackets.
Had even considered slacks. In the end, she went to her standby: nude pumps, beige skirt, peach silk blouse, pearl earrings, pearl necklace, and her hair in a twist. It was effortless, slightly colorless, all business.
Did it give her confidence? Perhaps. She knew if she were to stop by her mother’s office, Linh Han would be wearing a variation of the same thing.
Self-consciously smoothing a hand over her immaculate hair, she settled into a seat, fixed a smile in place, and said, “Good morning.”
Tomas looked up from the notebook in front of him, mirrored her tight smile, and then glanced back down.
She looked to her left, ostensibly out the windows to the floor, but the windows reflected beautifully the glory of all that was Tomas.
Smiling to herself, she studied his dark head, the closely shorn hair, thick dark eyebrows, blade of a nose, and full lips.
Lips that were clamped firmly into a tight line.
As if drawn, he turned and caught her eyes in the glass. One eyebrow raised, he smirked.
Fiona quickly looked away, busying herself with the contents of her briefcase.
Her cheeks flamed. She longed to hide her face in her hands but settled for pulling out her laptop and setting it up.
Thankfully, Hilary ended her phone call before the floor opened up and sucked Fiona down into its depths.
“Sorry about that. There was a mix up with a delivery, and the contractor had to mansplain the workings of the loading dock to me.” Rising from her desk, Hilary shot a grin at Fiona and snorted at the confused look on Tomas’s face. “Check the Urban dictionary for that one.”
Fiona bit back a smile as Tomas’s heavy dark brows caterpillared together.
She took in and admired Hilary’s bold appearance.
She wore heels, a pencil skirt, and a silk blouse as well, but there, the similarity in their clothing ended.
Hilary’s skirt and shoes were electric blue, and her blouse was a geometric print of white and black.
She walked with a long, confident stride.
Not for the first time, Fiona envied her.
Two years previously, Hilary moved to Keeney.
She was a breast cancer survivor who went through a double mastectomy.
When her body rejected implants, her husband rejected her.
Her new, much younger husband, Vincent, coaxed her out of her colorless cocoon, convincing her that a sexy woman was more than a pair of breasts.
Glancing down at her bland outfit, then swiftly up at Tomas, Fiona wondered if, by not returning his calls, she’d lost her chance at happiness. She banished the thought as Hilary spoke.
“Tomas had an excellent idea, and I asked you here so he can share it, and we can brainstorm ways to support it.” She sat at the head of the table, shifting her glance between the two, the large silver cuff on her wrist clinking against the wooden surface.
Fiona switched her attention to the man seated across from her. He swallowed, and her gaze followed the up and down movement of his Adam’s apple, then farther down to the open collar of his white button-down shirt and the coppery skin exposed there. Stop it!
His lips crooked up in the barest hint of a smile, Tomas nodded. “Keeney Builds is coming along nicely. We have a full slate of students signed up for the next quarter, and there’s a large demand for their skills.”
Fiona bobbed her head in agreement. Her agency, Keeney Works, had no problem finding jobs for the graduates. Skilled labor was in high demand in Puget Sound’s booming construction industry.
Tomas continued, “We have our limits, though. We have…students who want more than construction management. Some have shown interest in becoming architects. That’s a five-year degree program that Keeney College doesn’t offer.
Only WSU and UW offer it. To get in, you have to first have college level math, English, and read at a high level. Few of our students are there yet.”
At some point, while Tomas spoke, Fiona stopped focusing on the man and started focusing on his passion.
He leaned forward, big hands clasped together on the table, looking directly at her as he itemized the costs and obstacles facing a high-school dropout wanting to be an architect. It seemed very personal to him.
Not for the first time, Fiona thanked her parents. Neither went past high school, yet they pushed their children to succeed in school, knowing that doors opened wider for those with college degrees.
“Scholarships,” she said, turning toward a nodding Hilary. “And full-ride ones at that. These aren’t the kind of classes you can take while working full-time.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a grimace flicker across Tomas’s face.
She opened up a search screen on her laptop and began looking into architecture programs. She didn’t doubt Tomas’s findings, but sourcing funding for programs was her business. Above the screen, she looked directly at him. “How many students do you think would be interested?”
“Two.”
“Really?” Hilary asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought it was just that one girl.”
Tomas looked down at his notes, flags of color high on his cheekbones. “No. There’s a guy…I think would want to do it.” His gaze flicked up at Fiona and then back down.
Could he look less interested in her?
Concentrate! This is work.
“Okay.” She tapped away on her keyboard for a few minutes, immersing herself in the question of where to find funding. Hilary went back to her desk and her own laptop. It was hard to concentrate with Tomas across from her, but she steadfastly kept her eyes down.
He rose from the table, pocketing his notebook and cellphone. “Need anything else?”
His dark eyes were focused on her, and her lips parted as she thought about what she really needed from him. “Umm…I’d like to interview the students, get their backgrounds, school records. Can you text me their contact info? I’ll give you my number. It’s?—”
“I’ve got it.” Tomas scowled. Pushing in his chair, he flicked a hand at Hilary and stomped toward the door.
Of course he did. The enthusiasm that buoyed her moments ago followed him out the door.
She listened to his heavy footfalls retreating down the stairs, the slam of the door at the bottom.
Turning to the window, she craned her neck, hoping to see him down on the floor.
He must have gone a different direction.
He was out of sight, but not out of her thoughts.