An Irreconcilable Difference by Fitzgerald Lynda

Author:Fitzgerald, Lynda [Fitzgerald, Lynda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-01-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I was glad Darren’s car was at his office. Although I’d seen his new house from the street, I had never been in it, and wasn’t at all sure I’d be comfortable there. Everything was still too new, too strange.

He sat slumped over his drafting table in the attitude of architects everywhere, shoulders rounded, head down, with one pencil behind an ear and another in his hand. A lot of design work gets done on computers these days with CAD, but there is still that need to print out drawings and labor over them by hand.

Darren appeared oblivious to the world around him. He was dressed as he usually was unless he had a client meeting, in jeans and a flannel shirt. Rugged looking. I thought his butt looked really sexy. After my earlier revelations about Klee and Jules Proctor, I decided my hormones must be running riot.

Darren’s office was smaller than Sam and Jeff’s, and remarkably tidier. Where our office smelled like mildew and dust, Darren’s was redolent with the odor of ink and glue and new paper. What Darren’s modern office might lack in charm, it made up for in efficiency.

Debbie, Darren’s long-time receptionist, usually manned the front desk. She had been in architecture longer than Darren and pretty much ran the office. She was small and round and motherly, and Darren had told me more times than I could count that he valued her above any other member of his staff. Her desk was empty now, and I glanced at my watch. After five. Debbie was probably where I ought to be, I mused. At home. Then I remembered who was waiting for me at home and decided I ought to be exactly where I was.

Darren didn’t notice me, but a few of his staff glanced at me curiously. I rarely visited the office. I recognized one or two of them. The rest were strangers. I didn’t know if any of them knew about the divorce. Deciding they probably didn’t, I gave them a little wave and a bright smile. Then I perched on a stool at another drafting table, loath to disturb Darren’s creative flow.

That was another thing you learned living for years with an architect. When they’re concentrating, let them. Not that Darren was ever short with me when I interrupted his work. He generally looked up at me with glazed eyes that were seeing another dimension entirely. He might even listen to what I said and nod, but would never remember doing so. It had caused more than one argument between us in our early years when Darren agreed to something and then had no recollection later.

Finally, he glanced up from his drawing and straight at me. He was still so lost in thought that it took him a few seconds to realize who I was. He straightened abruptly, giving me an embarrassed grin. “Been waiting long?”

“A couple of minutes. You were busy.”

He tried to put the pencil he was holding behind his ear and realized there was already one there.

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