Page 7 of Scarred Ruin

“James, while I appreciate the compliment, we both know your thoughts on my talents. What was it that you said to my assistant Julie only a few weeks ago? Oh, yes, that I was whimsical in nature and therefore would never be able to articulate a critical, proficient design.”

I could easily tell I’d floored him with my candor. For the first time I was gifted with a pleasantly startled look on his ruddy face.

“I assure you, Isabel, I was merely angry about you ignoring my request for a meeting.”

“I didn’t ignore your request, James. I simply didn’t stop everything I was doing and come at your beck and call. However, I’m happy to discuss anything involved the upcoming project with you as long as you’ve made an appointment.”

“There’s no reason to play hardball. We’re on the same team.”

In allowing myself to move closer, I was actually establishing boundaries for our time in working together. I even took the opportunity to remove a feather that had somehow attached itself to the lapel of his tuxedo jacket. “Yes, we are, but there is a difference. I’m the project manager so I will establish rules as I see necessary.”

I patted my hand on his chest while cocking my head to offer him a moment to agree. He gritted his teeth, grinding them at the same time. “I completely understand.”

“Excellent. Then here’s to a fabulous working relationship.” I lifted my glass, offering the only real solidarity he’d get from me.

Only he didn’t know that yet.

“Hopefully, we’ll get to know each other better.”

I took a swallow of the bubbly before answering him. “Perhaps.” Even as I turned away, I had a feeling he wasn’t eager to take the hint.

“What do you know about the group funding the medical campus?” He followed me, standing a little too close for comfort.

“Not much. You?”

He shook his head. “I’m only aware of Dr. Platt’s reputation. From what I’ve heard, she’s an incredible oncologist. She’s worked with the National Institute of Health for years, her reputation impeccable.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

“I overheard her wondering about the lead architect. She was particularly taken with your drawings. Even though you might not believe me, I was thoroughly impressed with your designs as well. You spent significant time worrying about structure as opposed to more creative measures. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d have some experience in designing medical facilities. Granted, I have several suggestions, but overall, it’s inspiring.”

I was about to take another sip of champagne when I realized what he’d just said. “My drawings?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t know your sketches were here?”

“No,” I said while utter fury swirled in my system.

As a waiter passed by, I all but slammed my glass onto the tray.

“Wow, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, everyone seems to love them.”

“They were drawings I did to keep from having panic attacks. Okay?” I could hear the rage in my voice and was eager to take out my anger on someone. When I snapped my head in his direction, he took a step back.

“Whoa. Okay, I get it.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re near the stage. Right through the crowd of people.”

At this point, I could feel an irrational moment coming on and had to remind myself I was a professional. I realized John had been very excited about the sketches, but to ignore my wishes was a low for him I hadn’t anticipated. Who was he trying to impress? The question lingered in my mind as I controlled my breathing while pushing my way through the crowd.

The sketches had been positioned under a bank of lights, the wattage perfect to catch every nuance, every pencil mark made. While I had a tiny thrill in seeing them being presented as if a gift to the project, I was also furious to the point of being unable to put a coherent sentence together.

I filled my lungs with air, releasing very slowly. I swallowed the acid rising in my chest, reminding myself that a display of fury wouldn’t accomplish anything at this point.

When I moved closer to the rendering showcasing my favorite building, which was an entertainment facility designed for both children and their parents, another ache formed. Memories had always been more vicious when I was emotional and right now was no exception.

In spending time with my sister in such an austere, clinical whitewashed facility, I’d realized how terrifying such a colorless room must be to a child. Even though I’d been little more than a child myself.