Chapter 32
On Saturday I decide to work on a mood board, which is a standard tool of interior designers.
It’s basically a piece of foam board with samples of items I want to include in the design attached to it to give the client an idea of the overall style and feel I have in mind for the coffee shop.
Ever since the incident in the basement, I’ve been avoiding thinking about the project, because the thought of having to go back down to that cage and pull furniture has my stomach in knots.
But this opportunity is huge for me, so I need to get past whatever weirdness happened down there and focus on what I know I’m good at—comfortable and eclectic design.
Sam isn’t home. He’s been thinking about the Wainwright Building and was eager to do some more research before he talks to Kalina, so he headed into the office for a few hours. Which is fine with me as I retreat to my office.
I spread materials across the desk. A rainbow tapestry of snippets from magazines, color swatches, fabric samples, and printed photographs of the furniture in the storage cage.
Then I pare them down, discarding what I don’t like and adding the rest to a large square of white foam board.
Each item is carefully chosen to reflect the atmosphere I wish to create.
A warm, inviting space that ignites the senses.
I push aside the image of that crib and the creepy magically moving stuffed bee as I pin a swatch of deep-crimson velvet next to a picture of the love seat that caught my eye when I was in the basement.
I add an image of a brick wall cut out of a furniture catalog for some rustic charm.
My fingers hover over a photo of a vintage chandelier, its smoky crystals dancing with amber light.
I add a dried flower, an expression of my desire to work natural elements into the design, and attach several coffee beans with glue, not only for the visual, but also for their pleasant aroma.
On Sunday morning we rise, take turns showering, and are out the door for our brunch date with Frank and Jennifer a full ten minutes early.
It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the restaurant.
When we arrive, the line is longer than I expected.
It snakes down the block and around the corner.
We wait for almost thirty minutes but still don’t spot Frank and Jennifer.
Then, as we’re nearing the front of the line, Sam’s phone dings.
After checking the message, he shoots me a sour look. “Frank and Jennifer aren’t coming.”
I fight a glimmer of disappointment. “Why?”
“Jennifer has a migraine. Looks like we’re on our own.”
“That’s disappointing.” I’m about to ask if he still wants to bother when the couple behind us speaks up.
“We couldn’t help overhearing,” says the woman. “Maybe we could join you and double up on a table. That way, we won’t have to wait so long.”
“I mean, if you’re up for it,” says the man. “We don’t want to impose.”
“Um, sure. I guess,” I say, caught off guard by their forward manner.
“I think that’s a great idea,” says Sam enthusiastically. “Better than eating alone, right?”
“Wonderful.” The man rubs his hands together. “I’m Jamie, and this is my wife, Dawn.”
The couple are about our age. Dawn is of slight build, pretty, with dark hair drawn back into a ponytail that sits tight against her head. Her husband is tall and broad shouldered.
I introduce myself and Sam, even as the group in front of us is led away to a table. Then it’s our turn. We end up at a table near the window, and the server takes our drink order—coffee for me and Sam, and Bloody Marys for Dawn and Jamie.
Dawn and Jamie live in an apartment building across the street from the Glendale, a coincidence that fills me with joy since we don’t have many friends who stayed in the area after college, and I was hoping to meet some locals to expand our social circle.
Dawn is a freelance writer and works from home, just like me.
Jamie is a manager at an insurance company.
By the time we’ve finished eating—all four of us go for the lobster eggs Benedict because it looks delicious—we’ve agreed to meet up for drinks the following Friday.
We leave the restaurant and stroll back toward the Glendale, still deep in conversation.
Even though our morning got off to a rocky start, it’s turned out great, and despite my earlier annoyance, I’m glad that Frank and Jennifer canceled at the last minute, because if they hadn’t, we would never have met Dawn and Jamie, and I just know we’re going to be the best of friends.