It started on a crisp Friday morning when I was heading to work in David's car. I usually take my own car to work, but today since I would be only visiting the site, David offered me a ride which I voluntarily accepted. It was a wet, dull and cloudy day in the city of Seattle - a weather I preferred any day over the scorching summer heat.
"You're late," I complained as I threw myself in the passenger seat of David's car and retrieved my wet umbrella.
"Don't blame me. It was your coffee," David said as he handed it to me. Whenever David and I would go on a site visit without going to the office, David made sure that he picked up a cup of coffee for me. It was very kind and thoughtful of him.
David Parker is an architect at H & L Studios, which is also the place where I work but not as an architect. I am an interior designer. I was initially an intern almost two years ago, but since then I have become a permanent and a proud employee of one of the largest architectural firms in the North American continent.
"Thanks," I replied in appreciation of his relentless efforts and took the plastic cup from his hand and placed on the cup holder between us.
He smiled at me boyishly. No one could even remotely guess that he is twenty-eight, he looked young enough to pass as a college sophomore. He is smart, tall and masculine with a pale skin and intelligent hazel eyes that matched his short curly hair and when he smiled, nothing could beat the innocence hidden beneath it.
"Open the glove compartment, there's a file in there," he gestured as we moved into the morning Seattle traffic.
I did as I was told and pulled out a thick blue file from the compartment and began leafing through the pages of the document. It was a complete documentation of the new project that I was recently assigned to.
"You should brief yourself with the progress before we get there," he said, but his eyes were still on the road.
The project that unexpectedly fell into my hands came to our firm in the early autumn of last year. Unexpectedly because Matt Rogers is the senior interior designer in the project and now, unfortunately, he met with an accident two days ago, and I am supposed to fill in his shoes. I'm not expected to do much really, just implement the design that has already been approved and completed by Matt. Originally, I wasn't very keen on taking the part, since there wouldn't be much work for me in it. But David convinced me that it is worth adding to the resume, so I decided to give it a try. The project was in its final stage with only six weeks pending.
"Did you visit Matt?" I inquired, embarrassed that I didn't have time to visit him at the hospital.
"I did, yesterday," he mumbled under his breath.
"And? How is he doing?" I grew impatient by his incomplete information.
"Not so good," he thought for a while before continuing. "He is going to be bedridden for a month at least."
"A month?" I was stunned. "How bad did he injure himself?"
"I don't remember how many broken bones he has, but I know that there were plenty of them and he has already undergone two major surgeries. There is a talk of another." He was uncomfortable with putting words to the tragedy.
"That's terrible. I feel sorry for him," I murmured as I looked at David now, in complete shock.
"Yes, it is."
I went back to the file, carefully scrutinizing each and every design that Matt had finalized which without a doubt was the best I had seen in two years of my career.
"These are really good," I told David as I leafed through six months work of Matt. "These designs are really creative and unique."
Of course, I knew Matt was terrific and thorough with his work, but for the first time, I had seen him put together something so different.
"Yes, they are," David agreed. "The Wright's are an important client to us. They bring us more business than most of the clients we have so it is important that we give them our best."
I believed him.
The house was a magnificent structure constructed on the outskirts of Seattle and billed at seven million dollars by our firm. It had the most modern amenities, with intricately designed custom furniture that was ordered from different parts of the world. The landscaping alone had required a good hundred trees transported from the mountains of the northern Washington with rare flowers that were shipped in from different countries.
"Try to stick to the designs Xandra. And change only if absolutely necessary," he spoke authoritatively.
The last pages of the file constitute of work contributed by Roxie Miller who is the best product designer in the industry. They had specially flown her in from Chicago which is rare in her case since she hates traveling. And she has a particular coldness towards me.
Roxie is a middle-aged senior member of the firm who also regrettably happened to be my mentor during my initial days as an intern. She is the most difficult woman to be around, David told me that on the first day of my work and his words were significantly true.
"These guys are damn rich," I told David breaking an almost fifteen-minute-long silence. I was done with the rough portrayal of the house that was depicted in the file.
"Yeah, they are a big deal, but this house is particularly for Michael Wright, and I guess he is going to be there today. He is quite passionate about this project, so he personally sees it through." He kept his eyes on the wet road.
"Okay. Do I want to know who he is?" I asked sheepishly. It was the first time in my career that I had known very little of the client I was working for.
"Well let's just say that he is into real estate and some oil business and he runs his own company, so he is not into his family business," he said, with no interest. "You'll get to know him once we are there. He heard about Matt and knows that you are a replacement for him, so he wants to meet you."
"Me?" I was confused.
"Well Yeah. He has requested some changes so you may want to build your thoughts around that. And it would be best if you kept your words to a minimal with him," he said, in a serious way.
I don't know what he meant by it, but I didn't question on it. Best left unanswered.
"Oh, and Roxie will be there too. Thought you might need a heads up," he added.
I rolled my eyes at David.
"Great." I made my discomfort perfectly visible with that one word.
"I know you don't enjoy working with her, but she is important, so you got to keep your differences apart and do your job."
"You make it sound as if I have a problem with her, but you forget that it's the other way around," I argued with David.
"Okay, we are almost there, so put that frowning face of yours away."
After a forty-five-minute-long drive, our destination had finally arrived. I peeked outside the window of the car and had only then realized how the scene had changed considerably from the twenty-first century Seattle skyline to the lush greens of the forests. Everything was beautiful and quiet. The road curved through the density of the trees soaking in the heat of the sun that had just emerged from the clouds.
But all of this was nothing compared to the stunning mansion that transpired from the trees. I couldn't get my eyes off at the timeless masterpiece David and his team had created in just a year. Of course, I had just seen the plan of the house, but to see it live was fantastic. It looked lavish and luxurious and definitely a seven-million-dollar project.
"You built this?" I was stupefied by the alluring panorama in front of me.
"With a lot of help," David just nodded.
"This is fantastic; I can't believe it." My stare remained unbroken.
He parked the car near the driveway, and I quickly jumped out to get a better view of the house.
"I'm so glad you asked me for this project."
He got out of the car and examined again at the mansion himself, disbelieving his eyes.
"Every time I see it, it just looks better than before." He commented.
"I'm sure it does," I whispered in awe.
"Do you want to just stand here and look or do you want to go inside?" he asked me, his hands now in his pockets.
"Of course."
The pavement was short, already stoned and leveled. The grass had yet to be planted on either side with those unique flowers for decoration, and it would be done sometime before completion. The entrance was missing doors, and it was evident from the fitting that glass doors were to be installed.
"Why would anyone want to live in such a place? I mean it's so far away from almost anything and everything." My curiosity about the site had begun from the time we had left the highway and entered into nowhere, but I wanted to reach the destination before asking David. It felt very private like Michael Wright wanted an undisturbed residence.
"Honestly, I don't know, and I don't want to know about it. My job is to see through the project, and I intend to stick to the plan," he said, wryly.
"Alright then, stick to the plan," I repeated as I followed him inside.
Inside it smelled of paint and wet mud with the air being moist that carried a scent of the trees and grass and everything naturally green. The rooms were spacious and empty with huge openings for the glass windows that overlooked the green panorama of trees. I read that in the documents David gave me in the car to brush through before I came to the site. By the appearance of it, I could almost nickname it as a glass house.
"David!" The voice was cold and shrill, and I immediately recognized it – Roxie.
I followed her voice and looked up to where she stood at the edge of the stairs, a middle-aged woman with dominant gray hair and small rimless glasses sitting on her nose wearing a black pencil skirt and beige sweater. The women may be one of the best designers in town, but her choice of fashion reminded me of the 60's.
"And a good morning to you too," David replied, always polite and gracious.
"Hello," I added to confirm my presence. I was always invisible to her and to some extent I liked it. It would mean that our conversation would be limited and I would go on to do my work.
"Hello," she replied and quickly looked at David. "We have a situation here David. You need to look in."
"Alright, I'll be right there," and he looked at me.
"Xandra, why don't you look around and familiarize your way in here. We have to start right away."
"Okay." I nodded.
He walked off towards Roxie, and they disappeared into a room on the right. I was glad that they were gone, I couldn't breathe the same oxygen she inhaled and also, I needed alone time to think. Quiet helps me process things faster and better, it helps my mind be creative and put ideas together. Of course, there was the noise pollution of all the drilling but what I needed was a space deprived of human presence.
I was standing in the middle of the lower living room. The left wall was missing and would be replaced with glass that reflected the lush green trees of the thin forest. I opened the documents to peek into the ideas of Matt and his choice of furniture. He had arranged quite a selection, and to my surprise, I approved most of it.
But in all these details, there was one thing that caught my attention. The glasses that were to be installed were ballistic glasses that were polycarbonate laminated. At first, I thought it was a mistake, but as I ran through the designs of other rooms, I noticed that some of the glasses were ballistic - the exterior ones.
Why does Michael Wright want to install bulletproof glasses?
Ignoring my discovery, I moved into the kitchen area, it was huge compared to most of the kitchens I had worked with. It had a dinner area, slightly elevated and an opening that led outside, directly to the swimming area. The landscaping had yet to be completed, but by the work that was going on, I assumed it would be breathtaking.
I stood there sulking in the marvel of the house, I hadn't even seen half of it, but I knew that it was a beauty. I turned around to walk out of the kitchen, upstairs to the study and the bedrooms. It took me a while before I found the study, scanning the room carefully.
This was the only room that was arranged with furniture and immediately got on my radar. Everything here felt unorganized and scattered with no connection between the objects and its placing. A modern custom designed chandelier hung in the corner next to an exceptionally large French mirror pinned exactly opposite to the glass window that overlooked the green vista and the twenty-three-year-old interior designer with chestnut eyes, coffee brown wavy hair and a never before fair tanned skin.
I then gazed at the blank wall that would soon be occupied by paintings commissioned by the owner. There was a large desk placed few feet away from the window which under no circumstances matched the rest of the furniture.
Deciding that I would have to change a lot about in the room, I took a turn about the room, and that's when I saw him for the first time in his exquisitely expensive black suit and carefully combed hair. He stood there patiently as still as a model in a portrait, gawking inconspicuously at me.
My breath declined considerably as everything around me blurred except him. Time stopped infinitely, the preposterous noise around us diminished to a deafening silence and the air-enclosing us was astonishingly immobile. Nothing in the room stirred but him and me, his eyes gaping mine. It was a moment of reverie colluded with the presence of a dark, mysterious stranger, who felt unearthly familiar.
Every beat of my heart synced with each step that he took towards me. I was uncontrollably hyperventilating. Our gaze remained unbroken as he took his place before me, sifting through me with his wide sterling gray eyes.
"I couldn't help but notice your disappointment," he said, a voice hauntingly melodious that shook me off my trance.
"Dis… Disappointment?" I stammered. I suppressed my nerves and tried to act normal.
I was unable astray my eyes from him, and surprisingly he was looking right into mine. He was tall, lean and dressed in a black suit and gray tie that reflected his gray eyes and contrasted his black hair that was neatly cut and set with a hair gel. His sun-kissed complexion, sharp nose and tightly pressed thin lips with a brilliant physique gave him away as a vogue model.
"You disapprove the setting of the room!" he spoke confidently, "I guess that the contemporary design of the chandelier doesn't go with the selection of the French furniture here." His eyes were exploring my face now.
"How did you know that?" I was stunned by his discovery. It felt like he was reading my mind.
He smiled triumphantly, revealing his hidden dimples on either side of the cheek and directed his eyes down to the floor for a moment in a shy gesture.
"I have a gift," he looked up at me. "I understand people."
"I don't disapprove of the mixing of culture," I admitted, failing miserably at being myself.
"No, you don't," he grinned a boyish smile. "But in this particular scenario, you want to keep it uniform."
My mouth opened slightly in a surprise at the precision of my thoughts.
"You can change to your liking," he said it before I could ask anything more.
Who is he? I quivered. He wasn't from my work that I was certain of, it was a small office, and everyone knew almost everyone, so the possibility of a colleague was ruled out. I looked around to see if someone could help him, but realized that there was no one in the room.
"I'm Michael Wright." He said it instantly before I could even ask and it terrified me. He extended his hand to me.
This is him? My mind went blank at how young he was and so attractive. It took me a while to find my voice, and he waited with all the patience in the world.
"Err… I'm Alexandra Summers," I muttered. I took his hand into mine and shook. An intoxicating shiver ran through me, it threatened my presence there. "I'm a replacement for -"
"Matt Rogers," he completed. Of course, he knew who I was, David told me earlier that he wanted to meet me.
"Mr. Wright, I'm really sorry I couldn't recognize you. David had mentioned it that you would be visiting, I just didn't assume that it would be so soon." I blabbered. It was totally unnecessary.
"Miss Summers," he spoke, his voice soft as he continued talking, "I'm glad we ran into each other."
"You're glad?" I croaked. My cheeks went hot and flush. I prayed that he didn't notice me blush.
"Are you alright Miss Summers? You are flushed and overwhelmed."
"Are you always this confident about your observations Mr. Wright," I argued, hiding my awkward moment.
I looked down, smiling devotedly at my misery.
"I'm confident because I'm right," he said. "In most cases," he added.
"I think that you take great pride in being right all the time, hence the constant urge to prove to the other of your deviant gift."
"I have to admit that you are smart."
"And I have to admit that you are right."
"I am, but particularly on what account Miss Summers." He enjoyed his little triumph.
"On account that I want to replace some furnishings of this room. They aren't quite to my taste."
"Then, by all means, change them."
"Thank you." I blushed again.
"Shall we talk business then?"
"I expect nothing else," I said.
"I hope to prove it wrong someday." There was a sly smile on his face.
"I'm sorry?" My eyes flickered.
"As I was saying, I have some specific designs I require in certain rooms of this house. Matt and I consistently met on several occasions and discussed it, he understood what my expectations were, and I hope that you do too."
"Matt has documented most of your ideas, I have them here in this file," and I pointed out the blue file David had handed me in the morning. "So, I hope we don't have to work on it from scratch, and I'll try my best to work out your expectations."
"I'm sure you will, Miss Summers. David has spoken highly of you, and I have never doubted him." He smiled, "So how do you like the house?"
"It's breathtaking. I have no words to describe it," I swallowed, a little nervy.
"Thank you, Miss Summers. That's very gracious of you," he replied, politely. "I had ordered some photographs that arrived this morning, I came to view the outcome. Would you like to accompany me? Maybe you can share your opinion."
He was so polite.
He took me to an empty room next to the study, where several concealed packages were placed on the floor leaning on the wall. He unpacked the five boxes, and I helped them, trying to be friendly.
Once done he asked, "So, what do u think?" he looked at me.
All the five paintings were deprived of color, they were black and white. They were pictures that were common in one notion, they were all fantasy art created digitally in the most realistic way. They were all imaginations that were possible only in a dream but photographed them into substantiality.
"This is pure creativity; I have never seen anything like it," I gestured at the photographs.
"I couldn't agree more Miss Summers. I know a digital artist who can create almost anything. When I saw his work, I knew I wanted it," he spoke, his voice was music to my ears.
There was one picture that caught my attention the most. It was a mermaid stuck in the upper half of a small hourglass, and the hourglass was full of water in the top bulb but was slowly leaking from its narrow neck, relieving bit by bit the one thing most important for the mermaid to live – water.
There was a sense of pain in those photos, a kind of darkness in his imagination that made me wonder what the creator was portraying.
"I think you like this one a lot," he commented.
"Yes, I suppose. It's trying to say something, but I'm unable to understand," I failed to withdraw my eyes from the portrait.
"The hourglass represents the world we live in; the mermaid depicts us-humans, and I guess all the other living species on this planet. The water is the life that is being sucked out of us drop by drop by the system we are all enslaved to." There was a deepness in his voice, of misery and longing entwined with a darkness that intimidated me.
I looked at him after his surprising explanation. I had to agree with him, it was quite an answer.
"Yes," I hissed. I couldn't say anything more.
I stood there with Michael sulking in the mild heat of the sun that streamed through the large opening. He looked towards me, on the verge of saying something, when…
"Michael! I knew you were here. I saw your car in the alley." It was David. He startled us.
"I just got here," Michael replied.
"I see you have met Miss Summers."
"Yes, I have. And I think she is an excellent replacement, David."
"She is one of the smartest designers we have, you can count on her." David looked at me and smiled. "Anyway Michael, there is something we need to discuss."
"Yes," Michael agreed.
Michael turned to face me, "Miss Summers, I shall call you at work and make an appointment." And he extended his hand towards me, my hands wrapped around his to form a clasp and instantly there was electricity that ran through my body. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, Mr. Wright," I replied and let go quickly.
I saw Michael walk away with David into the pool area. David was busy explaining something to Michael, showing him some of the documents and taking some input. The conversation seemed intense.
I moved out of the kitchen, back to the living room trying to replay what just happened. My breathing had picked up a pace and my mind visualizing the scene again and again.
He is a client. Behave.
I climbed the stairs that led to the upper level of the house. It opened into a large living room with an open balcony. The living area was leveled down by two steps, and there was a space for fire. I searched for the interiors of the room in the file, but mentally I was hovering over the moment I had with Michael. He was everywhere in my mind distracting me from my work.
Irritated I moved to the attached small kitchen with not as many facilities as the downstairs one. I looked into the documents and checked out the modular Matt had ordered for space and visualized how it would look, but the only thoughts that crawled my mind were of Michael and the momentary touch we had just shared.
Afterwards, I moved into one of the bedrooms, and it was big and glorious. One side of the wall was already attached to a mirror, and it reflected the open forest picturesque from the wide glassed door that opened into a balcony.
I walked into the balcony, it was quiet and peaceful, and the scenery was breathtaking. As my eyes glazed down, I saw a black Mercedes sitting in the front parking lot next to David's car. Michael's car, I figured.
There is something different about him, he didn't seem like the other guys I had known. He has constructed a mansion in the most remote and peaceful areas, collects fantasy artwork that depicts real-life human scenarios. Is definitely not older than thirty and already has a business of his own. Quite an achievement.
And then I saw Michael and David come out of the house and walk towards the black car. David said something to Michael as he opened the driver's door. Michael responded, and they shook hands and then for just an instance he looked up like he knew I would be there standing, waiting for him.
Our eyes mysteriously locked into each other like a jigsaw puzzle that longed to be brought in together. My heart instantly began to race, and all I wanted to do was run away from there, but I was paralyzed, unable to move any part of my body. All I could see was Michael's sterling gray eyes that stared at me as I swallowed hard. Somehow looking into his dark gray eyes comforted me but it also terrified me.
He gave a small, almost unnoticeable smile and vanished inside his car. Our stare broken, the pieces of the puzzle separated as I ran inside the room, hiding from the embarrassing moment.
Crap!