Chapter 12 Lincoln
LINCOLN
@theanswerisno:
Hey, hey, hey, that’s unfair. Stop it. Stop stealing my loot. And stop teasing me, you menace
@pancakesareelite:
I like teasing you
@theanswerisno:
Careful, I can tease too
@pancakesareelite:
Your move, playa
It was weird telling Elizabeth the truth yesterday. Weird because it didn’t feel weird at all. Suppose she was one of those people, like Rose. Easy to talk to. The complete opposite of me.
And yet, since then, I’d been obsessing about her. About it. Not her.
I should probably remind her that I’d prefer my confession stay between us, but even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew Elizabeth wouldn’t go around telling the rest of the office.
She didn’t strike me as a gossip because she was the subject of too much of it.
I’d heard the whisperings about her family money, dating history, and about how she didn’t need this job.
Someone went as far as to say she probably did engineering as a fun little hobby.
It wasn’t my place to judge her. Hobby or not. As long as she did the work the way it needed to be done. But something told me that wasn’t the case.
Other than her clothing and jewelry, she never showed off her wealth. Her car was a few years older than mine. Perhaps it was to avoid being seen as a member and possible shareholder of the Gordon-Bettencourt enterprise.
There was more to Elizabeth than what she let on.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
It.
It.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her situation. Not her specifically. That would be inappropriate. She worked for me, and I was responsible for evaluating her performance.
Main quest: Stop thinking about Elizabeth. Side quest: Stop thinking about not thinking about Elizabeth.
Shaking my head, I wondered what awaited me at the office.
Not Elizabeth, but rather what she’d come up with for the vertical alignment.
I opened the door and stopped dead in my tracks as a large, white accordion divider stood unfolded between our desks.
It was covered in flowers and photos and reminded me of what I imagined a teenage girl’s bedroom would look like.
Granted, the only teenage girl’s room I’d ever been in was Claire’s.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth almost yelled, a wide grin across her pretty face as she popped up and out of her chair.
“Morning.” I eyed the large, troubling thing.
She smoothed out her gray jumpsuit. It matched her eyes perfectly.
“Hear me out.” She gestured to the elephant in the room. “This way, you can’t see me. And”—she took my wrist—“it’s plain white on your side, so absolutely no distractions.”
Her fingers were ice-cold and soft, yet forceful lava seemed to spread from the contact point throughout my body.
“This is ridiculous,” I managed, staring at the plain white, inoffensive view I’d be looking at, which was completely different from her side.
She let go of me, and my skin prickled in response.
The smile fell off her face and welcomed those clouds that sometimes shadowed her sunshine features.
“No, I mean. It’s brilliant, but unusual…” I added in one quick breath.
“I thought it might help you focus…” She looked far more unsure than she had when I’d walked in.
My chest fluttered in a way it hadn’t in years. I stomped on the feeling before the butterfly could take flight. “I think so too.” I sat down on my side of the office.
She excitedly ran over to hers.
“You can’t see me, can you? I’ll bet you can’t even see my flowers.”
I couldn’t.
“How will I know if you need me, especially if I’m wearing my headset?” I asked.
She rolled her wheely chair to the edge of the divider, and her grinning face appeared. “Like this.” She giggled. It was an undeniably cute giggle.
Oh no. That was not a reasonable or appropriate thought. Perhaps this divider was exactly what I needed.
“All right. Let’s give this a chance.” I blew out a long breath. “Thank you. I think it’s great.”
“But,” she said, wheeling all the way over to my desk, “before you start focusing, could we take a look at my alignment? Then when you tear it apart, I can get to work, and you can do whatever it is you do while you’re frowning so deeply.”
“Good idea.” I walked around to her side of the office and looked at her screen where she had the design open.
“Zoom in,” I said.
She did.
The design wasn’t perfect. But I didn’t expect it to be.
“It’s a decent first try,” I said, and even though she’d teased me about tearing it apart, I could see criticism would knock out the last bit of light in that smile.
I softened my voice and tried to be as gentle as possible.
“We could do better on the grades. These are acceptable in theory, but in reality, the steeper grades could encourage speeding.”
“Mr. Anders told me to reduce the amount of cut and fill because it’s expensive.” She tilted her head upward, and it brought her too close to me. “He said the project is over budget.”
Too, too close. It almost made me dizzy. Why did she smell like a cinnamon bun?
I stepped away and nodded. “Um, yeah. He’s not wrong. But one should always choose life over money. Anders grew up in a nice area with nice roads and walkways. He probably had everything he’d needed. It’s sometimes hard for the rich to see what’s happening to those with less.”
I slammed my mouth shut. That was personal. Even more so considering her family’s wealth. “I didn’t mean to imply…”
“It’s okay. You’re right,” she whispered, looking at me and making my chest feel a little tighter. “Up until a few years ago, I had no idea what things cost.” Her voice dipped toward the end, and her eyes skittered away from mine.
What happened a few years ago? I cleared my throat, swallowing the question. There was a sadness in the lilt of her voice. I wanted to ask her about it. If I knew the problem… Maybe I could fix it.
She opened a map of the area and zoomed in. “There are no sidewalks in this area, so I didn’t think there’d be a high number of pedestrians. Mr. Anders said anyone who walked there would know the risks, and the developer wouldn’t be at fault.”
Anger stirred in my stomach. Cold and hard. “That’s true.” I took a deep breath, but before I could stop myself, I said, “But it’s not right… is it?”
She shook her head.
It was enough to stop there, but for some reason, I wanted Elizabeth to know more.
To know why I felt so strongly about this.
“My father was killed in a hit-and-run, and had there been a safe sidewalk with a curbed edge, it would not have happened. But because he should have known the risks, he paid for it with his life. There was no payout because the developer, as you said, was not at fault.”
Years of buried feelings resurfaced as I spoke those words for the first time since college.
Her hands flew up, muffling her gasp. “I am so sorry.” The pain in her voice was more than my own.
I’d worked through the grief. Well, I’d hidden it away, at least.
“I’m all right.” I swallowed hard. “Anyway, Anders always cuts costs. If you’re going to be the kind of engineer I’d like you to be, I’ll need you to fight him.
It’s not only about the driver’s experience, but also the pedestrian’s.
There wasn’t a sidewalk so, yeah, maybe we were to blame, but why wasn’t a sidewalk provided in a suburban area between homes and the closest convenience store?
Not everyone has a car, or gas to waste. ”
Her eyes that often switched between cloudy and clear sparkled with tears. At my expense?
That thing in my chest she seemed to have control over tightened, and I nearly invited her to the ICTTE presentation I’d be giving about pedestrian safety. I had never invited anyone to watch me talk and I couldn’t figure out if her presence would hinder or help.
“May I?” I reached out for her mouse, desperately trying to regain my composure.
She nodded, withdrawing her hand but somehow sliding closer to me.
“Why is it sticky?” I said as my palm landed on the plastic.
“I may have moisturized a second ago.” She let out a low chuckle. Her breath breezed against my shirt, and the area underneath fluttered in response. “You didn’t see me do it because of the divider. I can keep plenty of secrets from you now.”
My mouth kicked up into a smile, and I huffed out a laugh. It seemed to travel directly to her. “My palm is going to smell like you do.” I lifted the sag curve and mindlessly said, “Edible.”
“I smell edible?” she asked in a volume only slightly higher than a whisper.
My stomach flip-flopped, and my face flushed. No, no. I mean, yes. She did smell deliciously edible. But no, she wasn’t meant to hear that.
This was why I didn’t talk to people.
“Uh… uh,” I stammered, my heart beating directly in my ears. “I meant…”
She put me out of my misery by saying, “I’m cinnamon-scented.” Her grin widened, and her cheeks were tinged pink. I was sure they matched mine.
In a few fast clicks, I fixed her alignment and then went to my desk and hid behind the divider. I wouldn’t comment any further. Wouldn’t talk. Maybe to anyone ever again. I obviously could not be trusted around this woman.