Chapter 17
Calvin
The terrazzo floors of the Blanik Building gleamed, but nothing shone so bright as the woman standing beside the elevator doors. Actually, her face was an electrical storm—and the lightning might’ve struck me down.
“Amanda.” My stride lengthened as I walked toward her. My legs wanted to run. I restrained them. “I came the minute I heard.” Actually, I’d sprung into mental action the second I’d seen her I miss you post on Awful Art.
Yeah, I should’ve asked her permission before sending her Amzaz concepts to IntelliMax, but since Georgia had been so adamant about never wanting to see them, and about severing all ties with Amanda, the second I got that confirmed in writing, I’d catapulted the art to Dean.
Amzaz needed them. Amzaz needed Amanda.
I need Amanda.
The look on her face, however, gave me no clear indication whether she wanted me in her arms or in the grave. She pushed that pesky lock of blonde curls behind her shoulder, as usual. Funny that I knew her nervous tell.
Risking it, I took her by both hands. “You were here quickly.”
She didn’t withdraw them. Or slap me. Win!
“I was passing by. I saw Mike on a Bike. He said this is IntelliMax’s digs now, and at that precise moment Dean Dryden called me. I feel like this is a dream. Not sure if it’s good or bad. How did Dryden get my designs, Calvin?” My name sounded like a mutated and restrained version of the Alvin and the Chipmunks yell she’d been so adept at in New Zealand.
“Before I forget”—I reached over and pressed the button to call the elevator—“Parley and Ellen say hello. The wedding photos are online if you want the link to the photographer’s site.”
“My cousin might want to see her dresses represented.” She was searching my face. “Enough delay. What is going on? How did something like this happen?”
“You mean, how did you land the job of your dreams? I’ll tell you, but you have to tell me something first.”
“Not this game again.” She stepped inside first when the elevator doors opened. “Fine. What’s the question?”
“Are you going to have photos of hobbits all over the walls of your corner office on the seventh floor when you become the art director for the Amzaz account for IntelliMax?”
Her eyes popped, as emerald and glittering as I’d ever seen them, when I said the words corner office. “It’s not like I’ll be a celebrity there.” She shook off the praise. “And yes, probably.”
“Why? What’s with the hobbits? Can you tell me yet?”
“That’s two things. You tell me first how I landed the job.” She pressed the button for the seventh floor a half dozen times. Bessie’s doors didn’t shut. Naturally. “What did you do?”
“I legally severed all rights SolutionX might have to your work, and then I sent them to Dean. Amzaz needed these ideas because they’ll deliver delicious, nostalgic candy from your childhood to their customers—who desperately need it and will be drawn to it because of your irresistible packaging and ad campaign ideas. Dean agreed. That’s how you got the job: through your creativity and hard work.”
“And your facilitation.” She stepped closer to me, close enough that I could smell her floral shampoo.
“Maybe a little.” I stepped closer, too, caressing her arms. Her skin was amazingly soft. “Now, about the hobbit thing.” I cringed. “Forgive me for the teasing?”
“You landed me my dream job. I can forgive a lot for that.”
A whoosh came from my lungs at the same time as the elevator’s doors finally closed. We didn’t move upward yet. “I have a few things to say, but first, are you wishing I was shorter and hairier and had longer feet?”
“I’m sure your feet are big enough.” A glint hit her eye. “Fine, I’ll answer honestly.” She sighed. “Look, I’m a reader, and when I read Tolkien for the first time, I fell in love with his philosophy and his optimism. The picture of the character from the stories was a symbol for all of those ideas.”
Again, while talking to her in this elevator, a thousand dominoes fell, creating a lovely picture. “I’d love to hear some of those ideas.”
“You mean that?”
“Sincerely.”
She searched my face, and then with a hint of a smile said, “For instance, that mornings should have less noise and more green; like there’s only one way, and that’s forward; like the hope that ordinary people’s acts of goodness can keep darkness at bay, and that there are precious things in life worth having and protecting.” She lifted her hand to her mouth, as if she’d talked too long.
But she hadn’t, not for me. I could’ve listened all day. “Go on.” I took her in my arms. “I want to know more and more. All of it.”