In Pursuit (4 page)

Later that afternoon, Claire decides to venture over to the gym, and I leave the apartment to take photos for a blog post. River North is known for some posh furniture shops, and I plan on making relationships with some of the staff for my blog and my, with a lot of hard work, new clients.

With my camera dangling around my neck and purse looping around my shoulder, I go first to a store on Chicago and Wells called møbler, the Danish word for furniture. It’s an ultra modern store with stark white walls and decor low to the ground.

“Can I help you?” A twig of a man in a red plaid shirt gives me a sterile smile to match the environment of the store. When it comes to my livelihood, I push my shyness aside and slip into professional mode.

“Hi, I’m Eddie Neff,” I extend my hand to his for a quick, firm shake, and launch into my spiel about
Your Perfect Place
and my design work.

I explain to him that I want to use items from his store to feature in my blog and with my virtual clients. This is usually a win-win situation for me and the store clerks: me, because I already have a paying client, them because I will refer them clients. Once I’ve established a relationship with the clerk, they oftentimes will send some clients to me and allow me to take snaps in their store for my blog. Soren, the salesman at this store, is no different from the others I’ve made friends with in the past, despite his cool exterior.

Once I get Soren’s contact information, I bop out of møbler and visit several other stores. An hour later, my cell phone has several new contacts and I’m ready to write a new blog post with some of the items I found on my trip. I decide to prolong my walk until blisters start to threaten my sandaled feet. Then I turn back for home.

Leading with my shoulder, I nudge my way back into the condo. Again, I hear noise, but this time it seems like the muted murmur of voices on a television. I’m surprised to see both Grants in front of the TV. In an attempt not to disturb them, I walk as soundlessly as possible into the living space. Neither one turns to acknowledge me, and at closer glance it looks like Claire is asleep. She’s wrapped in a plush ivory blanket, head tucked against a pillow in the corner of the couch. At her feet, on the other end of the couch, is Harris. He also appears sleeping, now that I can study him. His arms are crossed and his hands are tucked into his sides. Long, thick lashes make shadows against his cheeks and hide his stormy gray eyes.

They look like blonde angels, resting before their next task from the heavens. I grin at the thought and walk past them into my bedroom. Looks like they made up. Good.

I shut the door gently behind me, pull my computer off my dresser, and flop down on my bed. I connect my camera to the device and begin uploading the photos. The next few blog posts are already scheduled, because I worried that I might need more time to adjust and would be unable to blog. So I start drafting new content.

A little while later, there’s a tap at my door and Claire pokes her head inside.

“Whatcha doing?” she asks in a singsong voice.

I jump up off my stomach and pat the bedding near me. “Just blogging a little. I didn’t wake you guys when I came in, did I?”

She drops down next to me. “Not at all. We were both out, tired from the gym. Harris is gone now, so you don’t have to hide.”

“I’m not hiding!” My voice sounds unnaturally high and defensive so I clear my throat. My hands flutter about the computer anxiously. Can she tell I was immediately attracted to him? “You just looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you, little mouse. You don’t mind the nickname do you? I give them to all of my friends... and I’m hoping we can become that. Friends, ya know?”

For someone who came off so confident, now Claire sounds unsure of herself.

The feathers that were ruffled from the pet name immediately smooth over and I offer her a reassuring smile. “Never really had a nickname before, and I hate to admit it, but I am sort of meek, so I guess it fits.”

“Oh, no!” She rests her hand on mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t mean it that way at all. It’s just that you’re sweet and gentle. I only mean it in the most complimentary way.”

“Well, thanks. It’s nice to have a friend who gives me a nickname.”

The silence between us is awkward for half a beat, and then Claire’s shiny happy face comes back.

“I know the best Thai, we’re ordering in, and watching trashy TV.” With the hand she is already clutching, she drags me into the kitchen for our first official roommate dinner.

Much later, we are both lying with our legs stretched out along the couch. Claire surprises me when she admits that she can’t get enough of a reality show following around a group of women in New York.

“The single one tried to hook up with Harris at the Hamptons last summer. Can you believe?” She sounds nonchalant, like reality stars are always hitting on her brother.

I stare at the curvaceous bombshell on the screen, heavy diamond earrings twinkle at us. “Her?”

“Yes! We were partying at our friend’s house in East Hampton and she shows up like she was invited.
Please
, like we would mix with that skank.”

Internally, I shrug. I don’t know what the rules are in East Hampton, but apparently showing up uninvited to a house party is gauche. Seems a little elitist to me, but I keep my mouth shut. 

“She threw herself at my brother, rubbing her barely covered tits all over him. He basically had her kicked out.”

That doesn’t seem too out of character, based on the way he fought with Claire this morning.

“Harris doesn’t date, or ever really talk to women outside of work, so why would he touch something as cheap and disgusting at her? I guess the coke dripping out of her nose was probably a turn off, too.”

Yikes.

She’s silent as I contemplate Harris and the curvaceous reality queen. Picturing it in my mind, a scantily clad woman throwing herself at him in that way makes me feel a bit sick. It must be the Thai that’s making me this uneasy. No, it couldn’t be my attraction to Harris. Not in the slightest.

“Come to think of it, Harris hasn’t had a girlfriend in, like, years. That’s probably why he is always so grouchy. Lack of sex.”

“Seriously?” I erupt in giggles, relief cascading through me. “You should find a willing candidate, and then he won’t shout at you.”

“Ugh!” She throws her head back dramatically, covering her forehead with a hand. “Why is life so hard?”

Companionable silence resumes as we watch the end of the episode.

“I guess I should slither off into bed. Work and all tomorrow. What are you doing?” She twists her way up into a sitting position.

“I am going to call Amanda in the morning,
thank you
, and after that, I’d like to check out the Merchandise Mart and then there is a fabric store I want to review for my blog. I’m going to try and stay busy.” We’re both standing. Out of years of picking up after myself, I bend down to fold the blanket that Claire disregards.

As we walk out of the living room I pause in front of the photo that caught my eye yesterday. “Do you have a twin?”

Claire joins me in front of the framed picture. At first she doesn’t respond, her eyes boring into mine like my dad might with a suspect.

She appears satisfied with whatever she sees in me. “We look like twins, don’t we?”

“A little.” I’m confused by her strange behavior. My question was innocent enough.

“That’s Cooper,” she continues, almost dreamily. “The best brother ever.” Without another word she heads into her bedroom.

I make a mental note to ask Sarah what she knows about Cooper Grant. 

I
t’s my first Monday in Chicago and, so far, I’m kicking its ass. Morning clouds tried to get in my way, but I mowed them down with a positive attitude, and now the sun is sparkling outside, reflecting my bright mood.

Right now, I’m nibbling on a salad in the Merchandise Mart food court. The Mart is any interior designer’s dream. The gargantuan building is over 400,000 square feet of businesses selling wholesale furniture and architecture goods, among other things. 

It’s a little late for the lunch crowd, nearly half past one, but all of the tables are full. I manage to secure a two top and open my laptop in front of me to transcribe some of the notes I took.

This morning I called Claire’s friend, Amanda McDaniel. Amanda asked me if I could come to her home tomorrow morning. It was a difficult task, but I was able to hold back my squeal of excitement when she suggested it. According to Amanda, she’s seen my blog and knows that I will be a perfect fit for her guest bedrooms. My first client is waiting for me, and only lives a few train stops away. We set an appointment to meet at eleven in the morning.

After perusing showroom after showroom, the cork wedges I am wearing today started to rub painfully against to my pinkie toes, so I decided to come back and explore the rest of the Mart later. By the time I make it to the cafeteria, I have already spent four hours looking around and chatting with new business contacts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” My eyes pop up from my computer screen and meet a familiar face, which is strange, considering the only other people I know in this city are Claire and Harris, and Harris has never spoken to me other than a few choice swear words.

It’s the guy from the grocery store, looking just as dapper as he did the day before. Today, he has on pressed navy slacks, cinched with a brown belt, and a light blue button down shirt. His eyes sparkle excitedly when they meet mine, like he’s glad to have found me.

I can’t help but wonder aloud, “Are you stalking me?”

He drops his tray on my table and holds up his hand in mock surrender. “I swear it’s not what you think. My boyfriend just says I’m super friendly, kinda like a puppy but better looking.”

I laugh at his response. “Please, sit, this place is packed.”

He bows in a gentlemanly gesture, then pulls a chair out and carefully sits down. “Thank you, my lady. And what can I call you?”

“I’m Eddie.” I can barely suppress my giggles at his exaggerated actions. “From Arlington, Virginia. That’s right outside of DC, if you didn’t know.”

“Eddie – what kind of name is that for a lovely flower like you?” He unfolds a napkin and drapes it across his lap, then begins to cut his salad into smaller bites. I’ve never seen someone eat so formally in a food court before.

“It’s actually Edith. But I’ve only ever gone by Eddie, so that’s how I introduce myself.” I pause then shake my head at a sudden memory. “On my first day of kindergarten, when a teacher called for Edith Neff, I didn’t respond until the teacher asked if that was me. Then I burst into tears and demanded I be called Eddie, because I had no idea who belonged to that name. So, I usually just stick with Eddie. It’s easier.”

And Edith is the name my mother chose for me,
I add silently.

He bursts out laughing.

“Seriously?”

“Painful, but true.”

“Okay, so we have a bit of an identity crisis. I can work with that,” he says with a wink. “Since we’re officially fast friends, I am going to call you Edith. It’s too beautiful of a name to waste. I’m Sean Lightmen.” We shake hands and I can’t help my giddy grin.