Chapter 4
Madison Avenue was busy every day. Pedestrians crossed the streets in their numbers, carrying briefcases, backpacks, satchels, or walking freely. Lining the street were skyscrapers fifteen stories high, restaurants that filled to the brim during lunch hour, and designer stores.
It struck Mariah as odd that Ore HQ was located among such establishments. When she thought about it, however, she realized the placement was strategic. It was close to everything that would keep its workers focused on their work and was at the end of the street, where the road split into two.
Ore’s estate was so huge that she had thought at first that there was nothing else at the end of the street except Ore. When she got to the curb, she looked down and noticed there were other buildings, but the Ore estate was so big that you had to walk blocks on all sides before you reached the next building.
She crossed at the junction and stopped at the double gate entrance of Ore HQ. The gate was wide open, with cars coming in and out. Mariah followed the few people walking towards a checkpoint. She walked through a metal detector and received a visitor pass. Just like the Sorenson house, Ore HQ was a blend of modern architecture and nature, giving it an outdoor feeling.
There wasn”t just one building on the estate but a network of them. Many were hidden behind tall trees. Everywhere she turned, she saw a flash of forest green and deep brown, colors of Ore’s logo, on ID Cards, flags, shirts, lab coats, and carts. She chuckled when James Sorenson’s green eyes flashed in her mind. Over the week, she had anticipated seeing him again, seeing him smile and be as interesting as ever.
The people around her dispersed, entering different buildings, and Greg’s instructions played in her mind. “When you’re scanned, just follow the main street, down to the glass castle at the center of the estate.” The building wasn”t a castle, but it was made of glass. It was nine or ten stories high, by her guess, and there was a system of greenery on every floor except the last one.
Carefully planted vines and palm fronds sat on outdoor work areas. A fountain of a statue of a man with a pickaxe held was at the center. It bubbled with water, and she couldn”t deny the resemblance that the statue had to James Sorenson. She glanced at her watch and quickened her pace.
The interior of the building was a blend of nature and glass, too. Sunlight streamed through the glass walls of the reception area, brightening the green and brown theme to life. Inside the building, plants stood like guardians in forest-green flowerpots and vases. They looked so well-kept that Mariah was tempted to think they were fake.
She made her way to the receptionist, announcing her interview with James Sorenson. The lady wore a dark green shift dress that blended with her rosy skin and chestnut brown hair. She spoke in a young, peppy voice as she directed Mariah to the second door to the left on the tenth floor. Mariah thanked her and took the glass elevator up.
The glass door pinged open, and she stepped off onto a rich green carpet lining the center of the hallway. The carpet had a large Ore logo running down the length of it. With each step she took, it felt like she was walking on a red carpet at an important event. She took the hallway to the left and passed two doors.
A gleaming golden nameplate hung on the door that read, ‘JAMES SERAIAH SORENSON, Chief Financial Officer.’ She raised her hand to knock but stopped when she heard James’ voice.
Instead of coming from the office, it was coming from the end of the hallway. She followed it and arrived at a small loft that served as a seating area. It held three small tables surrounded by chairs that were in the company color. Standing amidst the chairs was the man she had come to meet.
He wore a forest green double-breasted suit that brought out the lovely shade of green in his eyes and highlighted his muscular torso and shoulders. The green pants were tailor-made for his long-tapered legs, and his mahogany brown shoes matched his honey-brown curls.
His lips were set in a frown, and his eyes were hooded. He was listening intently to the woman who was speaking with him. Mariah stepped back into the hallway before he could see her and poked her head around the corner just a little. She was curious to see who he was with.
“I’m not saying it’s a terrible idea, Veronica,” he groaned. “I”m just saying I have a lot on my plate, and I can’t add this right now. I”m really not ready for the press to know about an upcoming engagement that might happen between us sometime in the future. I barely even know you.”
Veronica?Mariah thought and observed the woman. Mariah identified her friend easily. Veronica’s white halter bodycon dress displayed her slender shoulders and slim build. She towered in gold stilettos. Veronica rarely wore flats.
“You speak as if the engagement is not set in stone,” Veronica said. “I thought that–”
“It isn”t set in stone. You thought whatever Elaine made you think,” James said. He put his hands in his pocket. “I never said that I wanted such an arrangement with the Singers. If it’s a marriage she wants, my brother Martin is right there.”
“Quit acting daft, James!” Veronica whined. “It’s not Martin I want! Neither is it a marriage of convenience with you.”
Mariah gasped. She had known Veronica had always liked James. It was what she talked about all the time whenever Veronica visited the Sorensons, and Mariah could see why, but talk of marriage had never happened before now.
“James,”” Veronica continued, her voice softer. “I… I find you very compatible. I love… I just want what’s best for you and your future. For the future of our families, we would be good together—a power couple.”
“I have all the power I need,” James sighed, “and I don”t think you know what it means to love me. You don’t even know me. So don”t pull the love card.”
“Stop trying to break down my words and just listen to me!” Veronica cried. The outburst startled Mariah. She slipped and dropped her satchel, which sounded with a thud. Mariah cringed.
“Who’s there?” James asked, his voice commanding. Mariah groaned and picked up her bag. She stepped onto the loft to find Veronica red-faced and James staring at her in shock.
“I got sent to this floor… for our interview,” Mariah stuttered, her hands wringing in front of her. “I heard your voice, so I thought—”
“You were eavesdropping?!” Veronica gasped, narrowing her eyes and glaring at Mariah.
“No! No! I didn”t mean to overhear,” Mariah defended herself. “I didn”t even hear much. I just got here. Forgive me for hearing. I’m–”
“No one’s accusing you of anything, Mariah,” James said, walking over to her. His strides were long and full of strength. Mariah felt a bit intimidated by his presence.
“I am,” Veronica muttered in annoyance. “We were not done talking!” She called after James.
“It’s rude to transfer aggression, Veronica, and it’s unbecoming of you,” he paused in his stride and turned to address Veronica. “And yes, we are done. Like I said, I have a lot on my plate, and this particular responsibility was actually served by you. So, I have to go.” He nodded in farewell to Veronica and was in front of Mariah the next minute. “Shall we?” He held out his arm for Mariah to take.
Mariah’s mouth felt dry as she laced her hand through James” extended arm. She mouthed a sorry to Veronica as James pulled her away, back into the hallway.
***
“You don”t have any questions about what you heard?”” James asked her as soon as they stepped into the room. When he told Mariah they were taking their meeting to his recreation room, she thought he meant a lounge or something. Instead, he had walked into an office that looked like an apartment. Greg, who was lying on an expensive-looking couch with a folder of files opened on the table before him, greeted them as they passed by.
James led Mariah through a door, and she found herself in a room of glass walls occupied by a white grand piano and four white armchairs. James then deposited her in one of the armchairs and started pacing the room in silence. Mariah watched him bemusedly for five minutes. During that time, he spoke only once to ask her if she wanted anything. Finally, he asked the question.
“No,” Mariah answered promptly, and he paused his pacing. “Your business is your business, even if I know who you’re conducting it with,” she said. His green gaze was so piercing that Mariah looked away and pulled out her sketchbook to give herself the excuse of something to do.
Then he spoke to her, “Veronica is your friend. It doesn”t bother you that she was so upset?” he pressed. It seemed like he wanted her to ask him about the conversation he had been having with Veronica.
“She is my friend—in fact, she’s my godsister—so of course there are a lot of questions churning in my head, but it’s not my business. My business is to draw and design your orphanage building. That is what I’m here for.”
Her words sounded cold and distant to her ears, but she had to remind herself that the warm and friendly James she met at the Sorenson house was the same as the one standing in front of her–her client– and she wasn”t supposed to get all causal and personal with him.
“Very well,” he chuckled, taking a white seat by her side. “Okay, show me what you have drawn,” he said.
Mariah moved quickly, hoping he hadn’t heard her heart stop for a fraction of a second when he sat on the white chair beside her and hadn”t noticed she was breathing heavily. She flipped through her sketchbook and showed him the first sample.
The sketches were modern-looking, with symmetric structures and glass paneling. He told her he might appreciate the modern feeling, but the children may feel detached from it or overwhelmed.
She showed him the second design, drawn up in the style of Spanish stucco houses, with a center fountain and a terrace.
He pondered on the second one for a minute. Then he took to his feet—a habit Mariah was beginning to take note of. He liked the second design but told her it was much more suited to life on the West Coast—in a state like California.
Feeling a little downcast, she showed him the third design, which wasn”t necessarily an innovation but was an improved and larger design of the orphanage where she had grown up. She flipped the page over and handed it over to him.
He took it and walked to the white piano, running his finger absentmindedly over the ivory keys. The room came alive in a burst of melodious sound, and it stopped as abruptly as it had started.
“I like this,”” James said as he looked up from her sketchbook. “It gives off a large family feeling, like the rich and affluent people of the eighteenth century.”
Mariah smiled in relief. “A large family house, complete with Corinthian pillars and a big yard.”
“Is this all you drew on this design?” he questioned, taking a seat on the white bench in front of the piano. Mariah ran up to him and plucked the sketchbook from his hand, flipping over to the other drawings she made of the manor.
He touched the keys again, and a thrill went through her spine at the sound of the music. He didn”t need to tell her that he could play it. It was obvious that he practiced.
“And the interior?” he asked, pausing. “Did you draw it too?”
“Not yet,” she muttered.
“When you do, could you add a room for a grand piano?”
“You mean a music room?” Mariah”s eyebrows furrowed.
“No, no. I mean a room for a piano. Maybe add a few seats for people to sit and enjoy someone playing it. A room like this one that we’re in.”
Mariah’s eyes narrowed, and she blinked rapidly. The image of another grand piano and a little boy flickered in her mind. She was not sure if it was a memory or not. “Normal people don”t have a whole room just to keep a piano,” she said.
James whipped his head around to look at her, a curious smile on his face. “Who said anything about being normal,” he gave her an impish smile and a wink. Heat rushed to her face, and she looked away. He was being all sweet again, just like at his house.
“Fair enough,” she conceded and hugged her sketchbook to her chest. She walked closer to stand behind him. “Do you play?”
“A little,” James shrugged and tapped a few of the piano keys. “I learned how to play better so I could play Anastasia’s favorite song. She’s gone now… but I play sometimes at church. Do you play?”
“No,” Mariah muttered. “I”ve always liked the piano, but the orphanage I grew up in didn”t have a piano and couldn”t afford a tutor,” her voice echoed through the room as James fell silent. She gave a sad smile.
“I”m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn”t realize how hard your childhood must have been.”
“Not many people can understand. But it’s all right. I grew up and made a life for myself.” Mariah said softly, more to herself than to James.
She stood still as a wave of memory hit her, how she had been so sick when she was younger, and the caretakers would pray all night long for her recovery. Her constant headaches had kept her from being adopted. No one had wanted an ailing child.
She had to leave the orphanage at eighteen, as all the kids had to. One of her high school friends had gotten her a job waitressing for weddings. It had been at one of the weddings where she had met Veronica and helped her fix a rip in her dress.
When Mariah met Veronica’s parents, the Singers, they welcomed her into their home with open arms. Finally, Mariah had found a sort of family. The Singers became her godparents. They helped her through college and assisted her in securing a job after she graduated.
She was forever grateful to the Singers and indebted to Veronica. It was what forced her to not think of James Sorenson as someone she could like. Veronica had told Mariah that she had wanted James. Knowing Veronica, Mariah doubted that whatever Veronica felt was love. It might have been more of a feeling of conquering a challenge.
Also, it was now apparent that Veronica wanted an engagement with James even if he seemed to feel otherwise. Whatever it was that the both of them were going through, they would sort it out. All Mariah had to do was to stay out of the way.
“A song, then, in your honor,” James broke the silence. “The strongest people in the world are those who have learned to see the beauty in life. They have gone through life and have made something spectacular out of the mundane. To you,” he said and turned his eyes to the black and white keys.
Mariah’s face was as red as her hair at his words. She was glad he wasn”t looking at her and tried to fan her face with one hand. A sweet melody floated from the piano, stopping Mariah in her tracks.
The tune was familiar to her. She could recognize it, even if she had woken up from a deep sleep. The singer was Louis Armstrong. The tune was ‘What a Wonderful World.’ It was her favorite song. But there was something about the scene in front of her that startled her.
She watched James”s fingers slide from key to key. His eyes were closed, and he swayed slightly, raptured by the music. Her breath faltered. The more she looked at him, the more light-headed she felt. It was like a scene she had witnessed long ago, but she could not place her finger on it. She felt herself trying to remember.
She tried to pull herself together but realized too late that she was staggering backward. She let her sketchpad fall to the ground as her breathing became rapid and light, and the buzz in her head started. She clutched at the sides of her head, pressing her temples, willing the headache to go away.
She didn”t know when the music stopped, but it did, and she heard James ask her if she was okay. The room suddenly felt hot, and his voice sounded too loud in her ears. She whirled around, away from his gaze.
Seeing the door, she did the only thing her brain was telling her to do–find more air– and she ran as quickly as her unsteady, booted feet could carry her.