Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, I take my time at the Sixes and finish off four condos on the thirty-eighth floor, which is satisfying.
Accomplishing all that makes me feel like I deserve a treat, so even though it’s only lunchtime, I ride the elevator down and head toward the Dominion.
I’m just reaching the front entry when my phone rings.
“Darling! How goes it? I had the worst flight back last night. Crying babies everywhere. I swear. Screaming, crying, drooling… They shouldn’t be allowed on planes. Anyway, learned lots, loads of meetings with Nickel, you know. Same, same.”
I smile at the doorman as I enter, with Claudia yapping the whole time.
“I don’t know how these people tie their shoes without us, Bridge. I swear. When he mentioned the roof—Remember what we talked about? Well, I…”
The girl behind the reception desk recognizes me and gives a little wave. I shoulder my phone, with Claudia still droning on, and wave back. I head upstairs, toward the Manitoba Room, and am just passing through the door when she inhales, then starts again.
“Oh, Bridge, I’m in serious need of a drink or three.
” I hear ice cubes rattle and realize she’s not joking.
“Anyhoo! I got a call this morning, and they’re asking me to speed up the project.
I know you’re working on it, but I need you to double down.
Seems like you’re worrying so much about the new hardware, you can’t focus on what needs doing.
By the way, nothing to worry about there.
I’ve checked it all out, and we’re good. ”
I want to interrupt and tell her I’m busy, but she barely comes up for air. In the past I have considered hanging up on her. Would she even notice?
“Listen, doll, I know this old building matters to you,” she continues, and I sense an edge to her tone.
“But if it’s too much, if you’re more into exploring than inspecting, I can ask one of the others to take over.
Theo and Henry have been hungry for a new assignment for a bit.
It’s just that, well, you know how I feel about sending in a man to do a woman’s job.
Women have to stick together. So just focus, Bridge.
Never mind the new hardware. If it keeps coming up, document it, but get the job done. Pick up the pace. Got it?”
And she’s gone, leaving me with an even deeper pit of uncertainty. Why am I supposed to leave it alone?
These Montey parts are crap… You’ll recognize one of the signatures. It’s your boss.
Obviously, I can’t leave it alone. Not after what Paul said to me. Claudia hired me because I’m a good inspector. I pay attention to details. It’s not the other way around, that she hired me so she could make me into a negligent inspector.
I walk into the Manitoba Room and find myself alone.
It’s odd, because they’re supposed to be working on the ceiling repair in the northeast corner.
I head out in search of Paul, but after popping my head into three other rooms, I still can’t find him.
At last, I find Gary in the Ontario Room, lugging around a huge box of Montey hardware.
“Hi, Gary,” I call, walking into the room.
He glowers at me as I continue toward him. “Miss Kelly. How are you today?”
“Just fine, thank you. Where’s Paul?”
“No idea. He didn’t show up this morning.”
I’m disappointed. “What’s in the box?”
“Doorknobs and light switches,” he says like there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Except, according to Paul, there’s a lot to worry about.
“May I see?”
“Not right now. I just got everything battened down. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find you something interesting to inspect.” He turns his back, kicks open a door, and disappears.
Wow. Did he basically just flip me off? I pick up my phone and call Jack Samson.
“Jack here.”
“Hi, Jack, it’s Bridget Kelly.”
“Bridge, honey! How goes it? Listen, busy busy busy today. Can I call you back?”
“Uh—”
“Terrific. Talk soon.”
I stare at my phone in disbelief. Him, too? I will get to the bottom of this. I start to tuck my phone into my pocket, but it buzzes again. Too quick for him to type an apology, I think wryly.
MB: Hello Bridget. It’s Matthew. I have come across information that may interest you. Would it be too forward to invite you to dinner tonight?
BK: Not at all. I would like that very much.
Just like that, the sun comes out.
Once again, Matthew’s at the restaurant before I am.
He isn’t wearing his glasses tonight, making his pale eyes even more appealing.
I take in his understated outfit: a tan sports jacket over a button-down white shirt and plain brown tie.
And below that: dark blue, barely worn jeans.
Seeing him in this everyday, ordinary outfit causes a stir in my lower belly that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I check my watch. “Am I late?”
“I was early,” he admits.
What is it about his awkwardness that appeals to me?
I want to laugh, and I want to reassure.
And yet there’s a part of me that wants to lean on him.
It’s only been a few days, but I want to know this man much better than I do.
And I have a feeling that, despite his reserve, he wants me to know him, too.
We’re shown to our table, and right away Matthew opens his leather bag. As soon as he does, our server appears.
“I’d love a glass of pinot grigio,” I say.
He orders the same, confident this time. “And a breadbasket, please.”
Before he can get started on the research, I grin at him. “Two meals in a row. This is nice.”
“Yes, but I’m buying tonight.” There’s no shyness anymore, and I feel a swoop in my chest.
“Well, thank you. I’ve had a tough day,” I tell him honestly, “and your text came at exactly the right time.”
“It kind of sounded that way. Anything I can do to help?”
“I wish I could share it with you. It’s to do with my company, though, so it’s a little touchy.”
“I completely understand.”
The wine arrives along with the bread. Almost before the basket is placed on the table, he seizes a bun and spreads a dollop of soft butter on it before belatedly glancing up. His cheeks flush, and he puts his bread on his plate.
“I’m sorry. My manners are… I don’t go out for meals very often. If I do, it’s business or it’s on my own, so…”
“No need to apologize. I’m flattered that you invited me. And the bread smells delicious.”
He raises his glass. “Cheers,” he says.
We clink the glasses lightly together and take a sip. I take advantage of dining with a history nut to ask a question I’ve been wondering about.
“I never know if clinking glasses is classy or tacky.”
As I’d thought, he knows the answer. “ ‘Practical’ is a better word for it. They’ve been doing it for centuries,” he muses.
I sit back to listen. He’s at ease now, and when he starts to take off his jacket, I’m treated to the sight of biceps pushing against his sleeves. Maybe there is an Indiana Jones in there after all.
“The act symbolizes unity and comradery. Mutual trust. Back then, some cultures were rightly afraid of being poisoned, and poison often came in drinks, so they filled their cups to the rims, then clinked them together so the wine splashed around. That guaranteed that if one was poisoned, they all were.”
“Smart.”
He smiles at my serious expression. “Another theory I read was that when the glasses tap, the ringing sound touches all five of our senses, which enhances the taste of the wine.”
“Doesn’t work too well with plastic cups at hockey games,” I tease.
“Good point.”
“You are fascinating,” I can’t help saying. “So now tell me why we say ‘cheers.’ ”
“In the 1700s, someone translated ‘cheers’ to mean ‘gladness.’ ” He grins. “Cheers, Bridget.”
“Cheers, Matthew.”
The server reappears, and we order pasta. Matthew holds up the basket for a refill, and it’s whisked away. He’s a big fan of bread.
“Now that we have figured out medieval drinking,” he says, “let’s get to the Dominion and my findings there.”
“I’m actually going to find out more tonight,” I admit, deciding on a whim. “I’m going to inspect that secret room. The one that wasn’t on the blueprints.”
He frowns. “You’re going into the basement on your own?”
“Everyone in maintenance will have gone home, so I’ll be able to take a little time. I need to check on something in there.”
“It’s safe?”
I’ve been wondering the same thing. I’m not sure, but now that I’ve said it, I’m determined.
“Of course. It’s a hotel. There’ll be lots of people around, just not in the subbasement. Besides, everyone needs a little adventure in their life, don’t you think?”
By the slight furrow in his brow, he is unconvinced. “It’s just that…” He thinks for a second, then shrugs. “You know best.”
“I don’t know about that, but I still want to do it.”
“Hmm.” There’s something about the look he gives me then. A quiet masculinity he’s kept to himself until now. “I’ll have to thank Jack Samson for referring me. I’m very glad he did.”
Is it my imagination, or were his words slower in that last sentence? More inviting, even? Does he feel as I do? I won’t deny the attraction I feel for him, which grows every time I see him. But would a romantic entanglement mess up our working relationship?
Which is more important to me?
If it’s the work, I can give him a breezy “Oh yes. Me too.”
If it’s him…
The wine swirls through me, making me brave. I meet his pale, remarkably confident gaze and let my thoughts reach out to him.
“I am, too, Matthew.” I let the silence stretch just enough, and neither of us moves. “This project’s turned out to be… unexpectedly rewarding.”