Rory (Hope City #7) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,24
a posh office off the Inner Harbor. Nah, there have to be a lot of Carmichaels. Once inside the station, he distributed the sandwiches to Bobby and Shania before sitting down at the table in the break room. Pulling out his phone, he quickly searched Carmichael Designs. Scrolling through the website, his thumb stopped as Sandy’s picture filled the screen. Owner and Lead Office Interior Designer. The photograph was stunning, but he knew it didn’t do her justice.
Well, it won’t matter. I’m never on that end of the street, and I’ll just avoid the sandwich shop. Even as the thought moved through his mind, it hit him that not seeing her didn’t make him feel any better.
“Boss lady, you should’ve seen the fine piece of man in uniform that I just laid eyes on in the sandwich shop.”
Sandy glanced up at Todd as he handed her the sandwich. Barbara walked into the room and laughed.
“Why do you think I go to the coffee shop nearby?” Barbara asked. “The firemen and EMTs at that station ought to make a calendar. And if they ever do, I’ll buy them all and wallpaper my room!”
Rolling her eyes, Sandy said, “Keep your eyes focused on the work we need to do. That’s what pays our bills, not ogling the men at the fire station.”
Carmichael Designs was busier than ever. Barbara had made contact with businesses that would soon be filling the office space in Partridge Tower as soon as it was opened. She and Todd had visited with the heads of those businesses individually to determine their exact office space design needs, making sure to emphasize the list of requirements the Partridges had set.
With that information, she and Todd worked diligently to create the designs. With numerous plans already approved, she handed them to Barbara to work with the clients for their decorator needs. For the office spaces that had not yet been contracted for rent, Anthony Partridge had required her to design attractive yet generic office space.
That afternoon, walking into Partridge Tower again, she claimed her hard hat from Heather and headed to the elevator. She was carrying the approved final designs to the lead contractor for the first eight floors. He would take her plans and oversee the building of the office spaces, including interior walls, windows, doors, flooring, plumbing, and wiring.
She loved each stage of design but found it particularly interesting when her ideas began the transformation from pen and paper drawings to livable and usable functionality. Stepping out of the elevator onto the fourth floor, she waved toward Dave Anderson. She had only met him when she began working on Partridge Tower but respected his professionalism. Dave was attractive, probably in his late thirties, with creases that emanated from the sides of his eyes from what she guessed was a combination of hard work, some stress, and a lot of laughter. The wide wedding band on his finger gave evidence of a marriage. “A lady should be choosy but never wait until all the good ones are gone.”
“Ms. Carmichael, nice to see you again,” he called out. Glancing down at the rolled sheaf of papers in her hand, he grinned. “Got something for me today?”
She met his smile and nodded, shoving her grandmother’s words to the background. “I know you’ve worked on the generic plans for the spaces that haven’t been rented yet, but I’ve got ten of the approved plans. Todd is also working with clients for two more areas that have been rented.”
He glanced around, then nodded toward a piece of plywood lying flat on two sawhorses. “Let’s use that as our desk and see what you’ve got.”
For the next two hours, they reviewed the plans, went up and down to the various floors, and walked the space. Waving her arms around, she indicated where walls would be erected and pointed out areas for individual offices as well as larger spaces for cubicles. Workrooms and bathrooms would need plumbing for sinks and toilets, and electrical outlets would be needed in multiple places in each room. They discussed the lighting needs, reminding him that traditional fluorescent lighting was discouraged by Anthony.
“I realize that might be a pain, but I’m the one that pushed him on this. As you know, fluorescent lights contain invisible pulsing, which so many people react to as a trigger for migraines. Also, tension headaches can be made worse with the use of fluorescent lights. So, we’ll still need lights in the ceiling, but they will