I stare down at the styrofoam container sitting on my desk. It’s right in the middle of a pile of papers, an architectural plan I was reviewing, concept sketches for a row of townhouses out in the Bronx. Not a high profile project, but one bound to bring in a fair bit of coin, given how housing is exploding out there.

But the drawing is far from my mind. All I can see is that take-away container. Sitting there, where it fell from Rori’s hand. Staring me in the face.

Lemon meringue pie.

It’s like she knows. She knows my soul, even when she thinks she doesn’t.

I can try to deny it, but ...

It’s always been Rori. It always will be Rori.

I flop down into my seat, still staring at that damn container. Even with the lid closed, I feel like I can smell that sharp lemon, the buttery crust.

This is a fucking disaster.

Seeing Rori is always the best part of my day. Something inside me lights up when she’s around, like I have a fucking Christmas tree inside my chest. And not a small one either. Like, a big fucking Rockefeller Center tree.

And yet every bright shiny moment is tinged with darkness. Because Rori has no idea what I’m doing. Who I am.

Talking to her about Maria had reminded me just how deep this fault line runs. Her request should have been simple — have a damn coffee with her friend, the one that I hired. But it threw me into a panic. Yes, I hired these women. Yes, the jobs were good. Were legit. But I felt a lingering guilt over our reasons for implementing the program in the first place. I had decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t have anything to do with the program personally. HR takes care of the hiring and then the new hires get put in whatever department they’re assigned to. My hands stay out of the whole thing.

Having coffee with Rori’s friend Maria isn’t part of that plan. If I had coffee with her, I’d have to think of her as a real person. And worse, she might try to thank me for the job. And if she makes a big deal of it, that’s only going to make me feel even more guilty about the motives behind it.

So I’d snapped at Rori. I’d hated myself the second the words were out of my mouth, especially when I saw the surprised look on her face. In the end, I had no choice but to agree to the coffee, because I couldn’t live with hurting her even that much.

So what was I going to do when she put two and two together, and figured out the real reason we hired her?

It’s only a matter of time now, that much I’m sure of. Word is spreading around the Kinsmen Club, and more retailers are starting to approach me on the sly, trying to feel out their options for getting into the space. And even if that gossip doesn’t make it’s way to Rori, it’s still only a couple of weeks until we have to formally submit the proposal for the project. If Levi’s contact at the housing authority is right, it’ll be a quick matter of rubber-stamping it, and then we’ll be ready to start bulldozing.

Rori’s a smart woman. When the negative press starts to come out, she’ll realize why we were so keen to get moving on this hiring initiative. And probably figure out why we hired Marigold, too.

I slowly nudge the container over towards me, using the end of my pen, as if it’s a snake that might suddenly lunge at me. I ease the lid open and am struck with the tangy sweet smell of the lemon. It hits me like a punch to the gut. The meringue glistens, perfect stiff white peaks edged lightly in brown.

The guilt is too much for me. I snap the lid closed again and bring the whole thing out into the reception area. I drop it on Joyce’s desk.

“What’s this?” She looks up, adjusting her glasses.

“Pie. Eat it, if you want. If not, throw it in the garbage.”

“Oh … okay.” She seems a bit perplexed by this development and eyes the pie suspiciously. Then she nudges a stack of file folders towards me. “HR dropped these off for you.”

“What is it?”

“Reports on the status of the hiring initiative. New candidate resumes and copies of the entrance interviews for the people starting today.”

Great. More things I don’t really want to think about.

“Put them on my desk,” I tell her. “I’m going to talk with the strat guys. Give Micky a call and tell him I’m coming down.”

* * *

“What’s this?” Levi looks down at the stack of file folders that I’ve just dropped on his desk. He turns back to his computer without waiting for an answer.

I sink down into the chair opposite him, as if this was an invitation. Levi lets out a nearly imperceptible sigh and nudges his laptop a fraction of an inch out of the way.

“I had the strategic division pull it together.”

He raises his eyebrows, then flips the cover open lazily, scanning the top page inside without touching it. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows again.

“It’s a media analysis. Of the last two companies that have taken on these types of private developments on public housing land.”

The first developer to be granted the rights to public housing land was TR Real Estate, who took down a community park and put in an all-glass condo building. The second was Quick Sky Holdings. They ripped up a huge parking infrastructure to put in ... you guessed it. A condo tower. Even though the city had implemented a rule that a certain percentage of the units have to go for below market rates, it hasn’t stopped the resentment from the community, and from the media. The investors love it, of course. They love it when the rich get richer.

Levi’s long fingers flick through the pages now. His face stays neutral, although I’ve looked through those pages so many times that I know with each flick of his wrist what he’s looking at. The flurry of negative media coverage that started when the development was announced and continues to this day. A spreadsheet tracking their stock throughout the entire process, and the dip it took when the project was announced and again when it was completed.

It’s only on the stock price that I see Levi’s expression waver in any way. But in the end, he simply flicks the folder closed again.

“Why are you showing me this, Wes?”

“Because I want to make sure we’re a hundred percent clear on the risks of the Elmwood project.”

“Of course we’re clear. That’s the whole reason we conceived of this ludicrous hiring program.”

“Right.” Neither of us says anything for a minute. I look out the window, which spans the entire left wall, and take in the view of the Manhattan skyline. It’s a spectacular sight, one that still gives me a thrill when I see it. There’s no city in the world like New York City, and the real estate development business here is one of the most cutthroat — and exhilarating — in the world. I can’t imagine doing anything other than what I do.

So why do I have this nagging pang in my gut? Why do I feel like a fucking fraud?

“I heard that Armitage is looking to offload that property in Bed-Stuy,” I say, changing the subject but not quite meeting his eye.

“The one in Ocean Hill?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

I shake my head. “Not enough capital, too many other projects on the go.”

Levi leans back. “Interesting.”

“We could move the project there instead of the Lower East Side. It’s not that much smaller than our current location, and it’s less of a risk. There wouldn’t be any public pushback.“

“It’s also a hell of a lot more expensive. You think Armitage is going to unload that for cheap?”

I shrug. “If they’re hurting for capital, they will.”

He chuckles wryly. “No. I know Richard Armitage, and he’s going to squeeze every dollar he can out of that place. Besides, why would we shift our focus to a new development site when we already have one in mind?”

I gesture to the folder on his desk. “That’s why.”

“This?” he flicks the folder, so that some of the pages start to slide out. “This is nothing, Wes. This is talk. Yes, stock prices dipped, but they’ve rebounded. Both companies have made excellent returns on those projects. This is a good investment, and it’s going ahead. Unless you’ve changed your mind about that?”

“No,” I say hastily. I rub my hands along the front of my thighs. “Of course not.”

“Good.” Levi watches me for a minute. Then he picks up the folder, spins around in his chair, and dumps it into the shredding box behind his desk. He turns to face me again. “Because I phrased that as if it were an option, but it’s not, Wes. This project is proceeding — with or without you.”

I stand up, rolling my eyes. “You’re always so dramatic, Levi. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

I leave his office, feeling annoyed at both him and myself. I don’t know what I’d hoped to achieve in talking to him about this. I should have known the negative publicity wasn’t enough to dissuade him. As long as the dollars came back in the black, Levi was satisfied.

But was I?

I’m honestly not sure anymore. This project is one I’ve been working on for so long, reviewing plans and proposals, estimates, concept drawings. It was easy to plow ahead when we were in that stage. It was always about moving on to the next step, the next idea. Now that we’re approaching the actual shovels-in-the-ground stage, something’s changed. I don’t have the same sense of euphoria I normally have. I don’t have that same thrill of success.

All I have is a nervous buzz that runs through my limbs, and a sour taste in my mouth. All I have is Rori’s face in my mind, her laugh in my ears.

* * *

After my talk with Levi, I get Joyce to cancel the rest of my meetings for the day, and I leave my office. Rori’s visit has me feeling out of sorts, and my conversation with Levi had pushed me closer to the edge. I’m afraid that if I don’t get some fresh air I’m going to tip right over it.

When I get outside, I just start walking. I have no destination in mind, but the sights and sounds of the vivid streetscape occupy my mind enough that I slowly start to relax.

Maybe I’m overreacting to this whole thing. Maybe the media coverage won’t be too bad. Maybe people are getting used to the idea of private developers laying claim to public land. And if the media doesn’t stir the pot, no one else will either. Then Rori won’t have any reason to suspect that I had any reasons for hiring her other than her actual skill and talent.

Which, let’s be clear, she has in spades. Yes, we wanted to work with Marigold for their non-profit cred, but there were still plenty of companies who could give us that. I had spent a lot of time looking at Rori’s work, and for the shoestring budget they worked on, the stuff she and Kyla managed to pull off was truly top-notch.

I’m lost in my thoughts while I walk, thinking about Rori and the woman she’s become. When I look up, I realize … I’m standing right in front of her building.

Damn. How the hell did I end up here?

I peer into the laundromat, where I’d gone looking for her that first day. The same Asian woman is behind the counter now, folding white towels. The place is busy, busier than the first time I went. The clientele is just as varied — moms, single college guys, an old Italian couple with what looks like an entire basket of lingerie.

“Mr. Lake. Hi.” The voice comes from behind me and I spin around. “Were you looking for us?“

It’s Rori’s business partner. I wrack my brain for her name — Kyla, I think. Yes, that’s it.

“Hi Kyla. Is … uh, is Rori around?“

She shakes her head. “She had an appointment this afternoon and won’t be back to the office today.”

“An appointment?” My mind races, worrying about the possibilities of what that could mean.

“Oh, just to have her dress altered. She’s in a wedding this weekend. Can I give her a message? If it’s something about the project, I can definitely help you.“

“No, no message. Thanks. I’ll catch her another time.”

She’s still looking at me strangely, so I pull out my phone and act like I have an urgent email to respond to, then wave Kyla off. She shrugs and tugs her headphones on before heading off.

When she’s rounded the corner and is completely out of sight, I slip my phone back into my pocket. I had briefly considered texting or calling Rori to see if I could meet her somewhere, but I decide that the fact that she isn’t here is a sign that I should chill the fuck out and give it some space. I know I’m heading toward a disaster, so why fan the flames any more than I already have? I should pull back from her while I still can. I’ll go to the wedding with her, but then after that, we’ll go back to our agreement and keep things strictly professional. Even though it pains me to do it, that might be the best course of action for everyone.

Feeling satisfied with my decision, I turn and head back towards my office. I could call my driver, but I figure the walk back will help clear my head, and then I can start going over those architectural plans I’ve been putting off all day.

I’m not more than ten feet away from the laundromat when a voice stops me in my tracks.

“Looking for me?”

Rori. I turn quickly, and the sight of her nearly knocks me off my feet, just as it did earlier today. Just as it does nearly every time I see her.

“Rori, hi.” I run a hand through my hair. Adjust my tie.

“Hi. What’s up?” I can tell she’s a little bit cautious after I snapped at her this morning.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have been so grouchy when you asked me to have coffee with your friend. I’m just stressed about a few work projects that are on the go.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.” She still sounds a bit pissed, but at least she’s smiling.

“I know. I’m an ass.”

“Yes.” Now her tentative grin is stretched into a full-blown smile. “I won’t argue with that. But you do have your moments.”

“I do, don’t I?” I grin.

She shakes her head. “I just came back to grab some work I forgot. Did you need anything else?”

I shove my hands deep into my pockets. “Yeah, I had a question, actually.”

“Oh?”

I hesitate only for a second, then take a deep breath. “Do you like Korean food?”