Chapter 4
A month after we landed the Riverlight Residences deal, the project kicked off its detailed design phase.
I was basically living at the office, buried in blueprints and models every single day.
On Wednesday afternoon, Alex knocked on the partition of my cubicle.
"Someone's here to see you," he said.
I looked up and saw Margaret sitting on the sofa in the lobby.
She was dressed in a mink coat, holding a big thermal container in her hands.
I walked over.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
Margaret sized me up, her lips pressed tight in a slight grimace.
"You've gotten thinner. Not eating well on your own, huh? I made you some hearty pork stew," she said.
I didn't reach out to take it.
"Just cut to the chase," I said.
Margaret set the thermal jar down and pulled a piece of paper out of her bag.
"Andrew's company is hosting a client dinner next month, and he needs to bring a family member. Emily isn't officially part of the family yet, so it wouldn't look proper. Could you do us a favor?" she asked.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"You want me to pretend to be your son's wife and show up at some business dinner?" I asked.
"It's not a big deal, just a dinner—" Margaret tried to brush it off.
"Mrs. Carter," I interrupted.
"Your son and I are divorced. If he needs someone for his business dinners, let him bring his new girlfriend," I said.
Margaret's face turned sour.
"Susan, don't forget—you came to us with nothing. If it hadn't been for the Carter family—" she began.
"If it hadn't been for the Carter family, what? You just gave me five years of unpaid labor," I shot back.
I stood up.
"Take your pork stew back and give it to your new daughter-in-law. I'm working," I said.
Margaret grabbed the thermal jar and stood up, her lips trembling.
"Fine, Susan, you think you're so tough. Let's see how long you survive without the Carter family," she snapped.
She walked away.
Alex poked his head out from his cubicle.
"Was that your ex-mother-in-law?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"What did she want?" he asked.
"She came expecting a show, but left disappointed," I said.
*****
After the first phase of the Riverlight Residences project got approved, the client greenlit the second phase.
Daniel called me in for a talk.
"Susan, you've been here five months and your skills are obvious to everyone. I'm making you team leader—salary's now 4,000 dollars a month," he said.
That doubled what I used to earn.
Over the past five months, I took charge of the spatial design for three projects—and nobody on the team had fewer revisions than me.
"Thank you," I said.
"Oh, and one more thing—there's an independent design competition, the Urban Vision Awards for young designers. This year's theme is old town renovation. The company's backing you to enter, and you can count it as work hours," the supervisor added.
Back at my desk, I looked up the competition.
The first name on the judges' list was Simon Grant.
The same silver-haired gentleman who remembered me at the Riverlight Residences review.
The deadline was two months away, but I started brainstorming that very night.
During that time, my life was all about two things: working on projects during the day, and working on my competition entry at night.
In my little apartment on Emerald Street, the walls were plastered with sketches.
One weekend, my college roommate, Rachel Hayes, came to visit me.
She spun around, taking in the walls covered with sketches.
"Susan, are you nuts? The amount of work you're putting into this old town renovation could keep a whole team busy," Rachel said.
"I can handle it on my own," I replied.
Rachel looked at me.
"You've totally changed since the divorce," she said.
I tore down a draft I didn't like and slapped up the new version.
"I'm not a new person. I'm just getting back to my old self," I said.
Rachel made me a bowl of mac and cheese and sat beside me, watching me sketch.
"Oh, by the way, did you hear? Andrew and Emily are engaged. They're having the wedding next month," she said.
My pen paused for a second, then I kept drawing.
"I wish them all the best," I said.
"You really don't care at all?" Rachel asked.
"Rachel, what I care about right now is whether this street corner curve is graceful enough," I replied.
Rachel shook her head with a smile.
"Alright, genius designer, I'll leave you to your masterpiece," she said.