Rooms - James L. Rubart [13]
“You find this amusing?”
“Only a little.” She spun toward him. “You have to admit, Mr. Never-Miss-A-Beat, Always-In-Control, missing a beat and being out of control is slightly comical.”
“Hilarious. But that’s the point. I don’t ever miss a beat. There’s not a sliver of doubt in my mind that Brad and I played racquetball last Wednesday. But apparently my memory is the only one in which it exists. That’s more than missing a beat.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to take a day off.” She adjusted her glasses.
“I just did take a day off. Last weekend. Cannon Beach?”
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Shannon grinned. “Did it help?”
Micah glared at her. They walked toward the elevators, their tennis shoes squeaking on the polished faux marble floor.
“So tell me about the place at the beach. Like it? Don’t like it? Somewhere in between?”
“I like it slightly more than I hate it.” He punched the button for the top floor.
“That makes no sense.”
“No question about that.”
Shannon tapped her lip with her forefinger. “Julie tells me you’re going to sell it.”
“Yep.”
“You want me to find a real estate ag—?”
“Nope.”
“So you really don’t want to sell it.”
He watched the elevator numbers light up from 16 to 17 to 18. “I do want to sell it. But I need to get a better feel for the area first, get a feel for what it would go for.”
“Isn’t that what an agent does?”
Of course it was. It wasn’t rational, his wanting to go back down. But something about the house felt so . . . He couldn’t name the emotion.
“Do me a favor okay? The next four Fridays, can you clear my schedule?”
“Interesting.” She raised an eyebrow. “You do like this place.”
“No.” Micah looked at the ceiling. “I’m intrigued.”
He walked into his office and pulled up his appointment calendar on his computer. He stared at it for more than a minute as a thin layer of perspiration grew on his forehead. He swallowed twice and kept his eyes riveted on the screen. But it didn’t matter how long he stared.
The racquetball games he knew he’d played with Brad had vanished.
||||||||
Two hours later Micah stood at his office windows and studied the ferryboats chugging across Puget Sound’s dark green waters. The same ocean lapped at the sand at Cannon Beach. Thoughts filled his mind of snow-white sand dollars, sand squeaking under his shoes, and those massive picture windows perfectly framing the surf.
If only Archie could have built the house in Lincoln City or Newport. Then he’d keep the place forever.
But he didn’t need Cannon Beach reminding him of the day that ripped his life apart every time he stepped onto the sand.
Shannon stood in his doorway. “Julie’s meeting starts in five minutes.”
“What?” Micah blinked and spun toward her.
“Welcome back to Earth.” Shannon pointed down the hall. “Julie’s meeting.”
“Right.” He left his office and met Julie at the conference room door. “You ready?”
Julie smiled. “Completely.”
For the first few minutes of her marketing presentation to their board of directors, Micah listened intently. But as Julie moved into the breakdown of their ad budget, his mind wandered. Three minutes later a sketch of his house at Cannon Beach and the surrounding mountains appeared under the rapid movement of his mechanical pencil.
“. . . and RimSoft’s logo will get an overhaul . . .” Julie’s voice droned.
Need to put a sand castle in there. A few more turrets on it. Perfect. Maybe a few kites in the sky. That’s an idea. He should buy one of those high-tech stunt kites. What a kick to learn to fly—
“Micah?” Julie’s voice cut through his moment of admiration. She and the board stared at him. “You with me here, partner?”
The lead at the tip of his pencil snapped off as he looked up. “Yeah. Sorry.” He set his pencil down and folded his arms. Resist. Julie needs the support. He glanced down at the sketch. It begged for a golden retriever. As Julie turned to her left to answer a question, Micah picked up his pencil and clicked twice. The lead leaped out as if at attention, ready for orders. Micah stopped drawing the instant Julie finished giving her reply.