Lydia
HOW IN THE world did he find out where I live?
He’s a cop, genius.
A cop who gave you a ticket that has all your personal information on it.
I can’t explain the myriad of emotions coursing through my body right now. I went from confused, to shocked, to . . . I don’t even know. Remember how you felt as a kid right before the first day of school? You were excited and anxious, a little jittery with a hint of nervousness. Scared to be in class with people you didn’t know, but eager to see old friends. That’s how this feels. It’s a crazy combination of excitement and fear.
Excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.
Fear at what it means that I want to see him again.
My entire drive to work is spent looking in the rearview mirror knowing my link to him is hidden in a crumbled up sheet of paper on my back seat. The whole out of sight, out of mind thing does not apply in this case. His number might as well be a siren blaring behind me. It’s that hard for me to focus on something else.
Walking into the office, I try to get my game face on for the day ahead, but no matter how hard I try, my thoughts wander back toward Marcus.
“Good morning,” Margaret, our secretary greets.
“Good morning. Enjoy your weekend?” I ask her.
“My only complaint is that it was too short.” Margaret has been working for the firm for over twenty years. In her mid-sixties, she has gray hair and a face that has experienced an eventful life. It’s in the laugh-lines around her eyes, and the worry-lines around her lips, showing she’s led a full life. She only works here for something to do with her time. “You look extra happy this morning,” she remarks.
Her comment catches me off guard. “Hmm?” I question.
“You have a little pep in your step and haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in.”
My fingers go to my lips. I didn’t realize I was smiling. I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just having a good morning, I guess.” To avoid any further questions, I turn around and walk into my office.
I fire up my computer, eager to get to work for a much needed distraction. I sent off the final design approvals to the biggest client I’ve ever worked on before I left on Friday, and I’m dying to know what he thought.
As I wait, my cellphone buzzes on my desk. Swiping my finger across the screen, I read the text.
Charlotte: You. Me. Wine. Dinner. Tonight.
Me: I love when you bark commands at me.
Charlotte: Like you’d say no.
Me: To food or wine? Nope. Where’s Nate?
Charlotte: Away on business. Again.
Me: Gotcha. I’ll be there around 6.
Charlotte: Make sure you bring the good stuff. ;-)
I normally let all conversations about her husband go, not wanting to upset her more. Despite Charlotte’s reaction, I know she’s hurting. Nate is never home, so she’s always stuck at home alone in their big house. So whenever she invites me over for dinner, it’s rare that I say no.
My computer is finally up and I rush to check my email. A few seconds later, the response I’d been hoping for pops up on my screen.
Ms. Kelley,
You’ve outdone yourself. The design boards are perfect and encompass everything I had mentioned to you in our earlier meetings in regards to how I wanted each room to look. I approve of it all and can’t wait to see it come to life.
Regards,
William Smith
Smith and Brown Associates
Springing up from my seat, I exit my office and dash down the hall before knocking on my boss’s door.
“Come in!” he says from the other side.
I enter and say, “Good morning, Mr. Hill, I just got word back from William Smith, and it’s a go!” I can’t contain my enthusiasm. I’ve been busting my ass on this one for several weeks, knowing I had to nail it or the job would go to someone else. This is a real chance for me to prove myself to this firm.
“Congratulations, now the real work begins.” Jonathon Hill is one of the most respected decorators in the area. If someone needs a recommendation for interior decorating, you can bet he’s the guy that is mentioned. While he’s a great boss and super easy to work for, the pressure to do well and represent his company in a positive way is intense.
“I know. I’m getting ready to sit down and put the orders in for the furniture now since that’ll take a few weeks to come in.”
“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, but I’m sure you can handle everything just fine,” he says with a smile.
“Thanks, Mr. Hill.”
The morning flies by as I spend most of it ordering furniture and different fabrics from our various vendors. By the time I glance over at my clock, it’s already noon. Standing up, I decide to break for lunch before checking in with a few clients that I had just finished working with a couple weeks prior.
As I walk out the door, I almost run right into Mr. Hill. “Oh,” I gasp, startled. “Sorry about that. I was just headed out for lunch.”
“That’s fine. I wanted to pop in and let you know I just got off the phone with a new client. He was insistent that he work with only you, so I gave him your contact info. He should be calling or emailing you later this afternoon.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. I’ve never had someone specifically ask for me before. Usually, it’s the other way around and Mr. Hill is recommending me to clients he thinks I’ll pair up with well. “He asked for me? That’s a first.”
Mr. Hill shrugs. “Maybe word has started to spread with how talented you are.”
His compliment brings a smile to my face. “Thanks. I’ll be on the lookout for the details when I get back from lunch then.”
“Enjoy your break.”
With a wave, I continue on in my journey to feed my stomach. She turns into a nasty beast when I’ve neglected her for too long. But once I’ve fed the monster that resides in my belly, I come back to my desk to see an unopened message in my inbox.
From: Christopher Riley
To: Lydia Kelley
Hello Ms. Kelley,
I hope this email finds you well. I’m in dire need of your services where my home is concerned. If it works with your schedule, I’d love to meet to walk you through the place and see what ideas you’d have for it.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Christopher
Well, that was straight to the point. Looking over my calendar, I see that I don’t have a lot going on Thursday.
Mr. Riley,
Thank you for contacting me. I’m eager to get started and see what we have to work with. I have an opening on Thursday at 2:00 p.m. Please let me know if this fits into your schedule. If not, I’d be more than happy to work around a time that is best for you.
So that I’m a little prepared, could you give me a few details? Are you looking for a full redesign of the entire house, or specific rooms? Do you have a particular style you’re going for? More modern and contemporary, or traditional? Also, do you reside in the residence alone, or do you live with a family, significant other, etc?
I look forward to getting started,
Lydia
His response is almost immediate.
Lydia,
It’s just me here, no one else. Mr. Hill sent over a few of the rooms you’ve redecorated before per my request, so I trust your taste. You have a blank canvas. I’ll see you at 2:00 on Thursday. You’ll find my address below.
Thank you,
Christopher
4132 Mill Hopper Lane
Apex, NC 27502
Gate Access code is 0714#
The first thing that catches my eye are five magical words.
You have a blank canvas.
That’s a decorator’s dream. While having no direction can have its challenges, I’m super stoked to have free reign. Getting a jump start, I pull together a variety of looks from my portfolio to see which style appeals to him most.
I pull into the parking lot to my apartment at four thirty on the nose. It was a long day, but an exciting one too. But what waits for me at my door causes me to pause.
Laying on the floor is a single rose with a small card attached by a ribbon. Before I pick it up, I already know who it’s from.
Go out with me?
Text Yes or No.
919-555-0240
If I thought he’d give up soon, I was wrong, especially since I find the same note and flower at my doorstep the next three days. And each time, I throw the card in the trash to keep from texting him, but today is different. Once I’ve set my stuff on the kitchen counter, I pull out my phone.
Me: You know stalking is illegal, right? Since you’re a cop and all, I just wanted to make sure you were aware.
919-555-0240: I’m aware. That’s not what I’m doing though.
I quickly save his number into my phone before replying.
Me: Yes, it is.
Stalker: No, it’s not. Stalking involves aggressive, threatening, and often illegal behavior. Asking you to go out with me and leaving you flowers falls under none of those categories.
I stare at the screen, hoping a snarky reply will magically pop up, but it doesn’t.
Me: Whatever.
Childish, I know, but it’s the only thing I could come up with.
Stalker: Is that a yes then?
Me: No.
Five minutes later, I haven’t moved and I realize he’s not going to respond. For some reason, I kind of like bantering with him, so when he doesn’t reply back, I’m slightly disappointed. Soon, I see my error in this whole exchange.
Now, he has my number.
And I have no idea how he’ll use it.