Washington, D.C.
Cal had just gotten a building to house the business he called "The Lightman Group". Most people who met him considered him to be vain for plastering his name across business cards and the company itself. Until a psychologist walked through his office door, looking for a job. If it hadn't been for her warmth and confidence, he wouldn't have hired her. But something familiar struck him about her. He studied her contact card closely; he didn't want to overlook anything. The next day, he saw her in the break room, sipping out of a plain white mug.
Gillian Foster. Something about her name tugged on a distant memory in his mind. The Gillian he had met in London couldn't possibly be her; she had been so excited for the future and what it held. This Gillian was quiet and sometimes withdrawn, but she was slowly starting to open up to him, and he was finding out layers of her life that he had no business in. Cal had listened to her talk about her trips to London and Paris, and something in her voice made him believe that she had met someone on one of her trips that had befriended her and was special to her.
She talked with him now almost everyday when she was in the break room, getting a cup of coffee. Cal had no intention of asking her if she was married, because he knew she was. But then the thought popped into his head one day to ask if her maiden name was 'Hunter'. Gillian had stared at him in confusion, but got over it and never answered his question. That night, she went through a box of her things, and found a copy of an article her friend from London had given her. It was signed and dated, and Gillian stared at the handwriting.
She was working for her best guy friend from London. Cal Lightman.