Chapter 7 The Quinn Alternative
The Quinn Alternative
The Boston Conference Center bustled with architects, preservationists, and sustainability experts from across the country.
Julia adjusted her name badge and looked around, trying to focus on the conference program.
In a few hours, she would be presenting her warehouse adaptive reuse project to a room full of peers.
“Ready for the big reveal?” Eliza appeared beside her, balancing two coffees. She handed one to Julia.
“Thanks,” Julia said, gratefully accepting the cup. “I keep revising mental notes for the presentation.”
“You know the project inside out. You’re going to blow them away,” Eliza assured her. “I’m more worried about the headhunters.”
Eliza leaned closer to Julia amidst the conference chatter, her expression earnest. “Honestly, Julia, you’re that rare hot commodity—the smart cookie with a sustainable heart. I’ve already seen a couple of headhunter types sniffing around.”
Julia laughed, a light, confident sound. “Not a chance, Eliza. I’m perfectly happy where I am.”
Eliza grinned. “That’s what everyone says before they see the number on the signing bonus.”
Julia smiled. This was vintage Eliza. Changing the game for your benefit. Sometimes, (but only sometimes), Julia wished she could be more like Eliza, breezing into a room like a geothermal vent just sprang open – all radiant energy and a hint of something volatile simmering beneath the surface.
Just then, Eliza squeezed Julia’s arm. “Rock your presentation first, then we worry about Dylan.”
Quinn approached, tablet in hand. “In case your anxious heart is curious, the projector in your room is actually working.”
“The original mentalist,” Julia said. “Thanks, Quinn.”
“Just reading the signs, Jewels.”
If Julia had a lifetime subscription to Murphy’s law, Quinn was her exact opposite. He subscribed to Sunny’s Law. If a person so much as walked in the direction of a beach, Quinn believed, the sun would be shining, beach towel in hand. Of course the projector was working.
“Think of everyone in this room as a nail,” Quinn went on. “And you’re the hammer.”
“If I’m a hammer, you’re the loose screw!
” Julia joked. She had to admit that even amidst a crowd of well-dressed professionals, Quinn commanded attention.
His sharply tailored charcoal suit accentuated his broad shoulders.
A pristine white shirt peeked from beneath the jacket.
And there was that distinctive crooked smile that grew slowly as it spread across his face, creating subtle lines around his eyes.
“We’ll be in the front row sending supportive telepathic messages,” he said, before walking away with Eliza. “I need to focus on the presentation,” Julia said. “See you in a couple of hours.”
After they had left, Julia checked the time on her phone.
She had time to walk back to her hotel and freshen up.
Just then, her phone chimed. It was a message from Dylan.
She willed herself not to look at it. She should not do this to herself.
She put her phone in her briefcase and made her way toward the entrance.
========
The time finally came.
As she was being introduced, Julia stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Quinn, Eliza and Martin were seated in the front row.
Eliza did a little friendly wave, Quinn winked at her, and Martin gave her two thumbs up.
Julia smiled toward them, grateful for their presence in her life.
These were her people. They were part of her often reflections on seeking and finding.
They were together every day, working toward something they found meaningful.
These were the ones who asked, “How are you, really?” Sometimes Julia wondered what would happen to her life if they were not in it.
Right before her presentation, she thought about Dylan’s message. But she was here now. She had to focus.
“...which allowed us to preserve 78% of the original structural elements while achieving modern energy efficiency standards.” Julia advanced to her final slide, a rendering of the completed warehouse project.
“The result will be a building that honors its industrial heritage while serving contemporary needs—proving that preservation and progress can coexist. I’ll take your questions now. ”
Applause filled the room. During the Q&A session, she fielded questions with confidence, drawing on her intimate knowledge of the building’s history and the restoration challenges.
Afterwards, a few attendees came up to her to compliment her presentation.
A small queue formed. One man stood out – sharp suit and graying temples hinting at experience.
He had the air of someone not used to standing in line, unless he had a good reason to do so.
Across the room, Eliza caught Julia’s eye and mouthed a dramatic, silent, “Poacher!” Julia fought to keep a professional smile on her face as the man extended his hand.
Quinn approached last, waiting until the crowd had thinned and gave her a fist bump. “You had everyone under your spell.”
“Thanks! Looks like it went well.”
“Well? You crushed it,” he insisted. “The way you connected historical significance with contemporary function—that’s the kind of thinking we need now, seriously.”
His flattery was grounding. Here was someone who understood her work, appreciated her perspective, and shared her professional values.
“By the by, are you free for dinner tonight?” Quinn asked. “A few of us were planning to try that new place in the hotel—Harvest, I think it’s called.”
Julia hesitated. If she had dinner with Quinn and colleagues, she’d have a perfect excuse not to meet Dylan. After much debate, she had decided that she was not ready.
“That sounds nice,” she said. “What time?”
“Seven-thirty?”
“Count me in,” she said, with a mixture of relief and guilt.
As Quinn walked away, Julia checked her phone.
There had been no new messages from Dylan after wishing her luck in her presentation.
Julia had told him she’d touch base with him afterwards, but she had not texted him yet.
The afternoon passed in a blur of sessions, professional networking, and deliberate distractions that pushed thoughts of Dylan to the edges of her consciousness.
By the time she returned to her room to change for dinner, she felt almost normal—focused on the conference and on the professional opportunities surrounding her.
Until she checked her phone and saw the message:
Dylan : I hope your presentation went well! I arrived in Boston early. Still hoping we might meet, but understand if you’ve changed your mind. Staying at the Hawthorne Inn.
Julia sat on the edge of the bed, the carefully constructed compart-mentalization of her day was falling apart.
She began typing a response:
I’m sorry, Dylan. Recent events have made me question whether this is a good idea.
She deleted it and tried again:
My presentation went well, thank you! I’ve made dinner plans with colleagues tonight. I don’t think meeting will work out.
Still not right. Too cold, too dismissive of everything they’d shared. She started over:
Dylan, I’m still processing our last conversation. While I appreciate your explanation, I need more time to think about meeting in person. Could we postpone?
Her finger hovered over the send button when a knock at her door startled her. She set the phone down without sending the message. Eliza was at the door, already dressed for dinner.
“Are you not getting my messages?” Eliza asked. “We’re meeting in the lobby in fifteen minutes.” She then noticed Julia’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Dylan’s already in Boston.”
“Whaaa . . . ?” Eliza said, stepping into the room. “And you’re freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Julia said. “I’m just . . . reassessing.”
“While Quinn waits downstairs,” Eliza said, squinting dramatically.
“It’s a group dinner,” Julia said. “Not a date!”
“Right … right,” Eliza drawled. “And Quinn just happened to mention three times how much he’s looking forward to continuing your earlier conversation.”
Julia sighed, sitting at the small desk. “I just wish Quinn weren’t so . . .”
“Verifiable?” Eliza said, fixing Julia with one of her sideway glances.
“I mean predictable. There’s no mystery to him, nothing new to know… He’s just a normal, straightforward co-worker who happens to be interested.”
“And he’s so so safe,” Eliza added.
“What do you mean?”
“Quinn’s the safe bet. You work together, you understand each other’s worlds, so there’s a kind of …
pseudo-intimacy between you two. Though that’s not the same as love.
You know that feeling you get when you’re falling at high speed inside an elevator that’s come unhinged?
It’s the best feeling ever. And I want that for you, Jewels. ”
“I don’t like the word ’unhinged.’ And you know that’s a myth. Elevators don’t come unhinged. The emergency brakes engage automatically if the car starts to fall.”
“You took words out of my mouth! You’re applying the emergency brake before anything happens with Quinn.”
Julia was silent, absorbing Eliza’s perspective.
“Look,” Eliza continued, more gently, “Quinn is great. If you’re genuinely interested in him, fantastic. But if you’re choosing him because he’s the safer option after Aaron hurt you, that’s not fair to either of you. Or to Dylan, for that matter.”
“I don’t know what I want,” Julia admitted.
“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all day,” Eliza said. “Get dressed for dinner. You don’t have to make any decisions tonight.”
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Pendant lights cast a warm glow throughout the elegant Harvest restaurant. Julia was seated between Quinn and Martin, with Eliza across the table beside two other colleagues from the firm.
Quinn was the perfect dinner companion—attentive without hovering, knowledgeable about many things, funny without trying too hard. When the server went on a pretentious monologue about the fish of the day, Quinn whispered to Julia, “Translation: it’s fish on a plate with stuff on it.”
By the time dessert arrived, Julia was really enjoying his company. The simplicity of their connection was appealing—no need to explain industry terms or translate professional challenges. He understood her world because he lived in it too.
As they walked out of the restaurant, Quinn said, “Some of us are heading to the hotel bar for a nightcap. Care to join?”
“I should probably turn in early,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
“You were amazing today! Get some rest.”
“Thank you for everything—checking the projector, the jokes,” she said.
“That’s what friends are for.”
As soon as she got to her room, Julia sat on the bed and checked her phone. No new messages from Dylan.
She decided to answer him:
Julia: Sorry for not responding sooner. My presentation went well. Thanks for letting me know you’re in Boston early. I’ll text you some breakfast options in a bit.
She headed to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.
Under the running water, Julia couldn’t find a name for what was shaking her as if she would break.
It was too late, she thought. She could never get her old self back, could not reclaim herself from the emptiness of betrayal.
Was she condemned to live with this open wound forever?
A knot of tears started traveling up her throat.
Technically, her life had continued after Aaron. But could she ever trust anyone again?