Samson looked up at the skyscraper once more. So far his trip with April was going well, if not wonderfully. It had been a kick to watch her see Chicago for the first time from high above. When they landed, he took her out to a nice restaurant, which she had enjoyed but not gushed over. She was nervous again, for some reason. He couldn’t figure out why she would stiffen up just as she seemed to get comfortable with him.
On their second day, he took her out for a tour of the city’s architecture, and she temporarily forgot her nerves. Samson bought coffees and pastries and took her on a walking breakfast through Millennium Park, watching her face light up at the curving metal beams above the pavilion and the “Cloud Gate.” Samson said looked like a giant silver jellybean. April laughed and told him that people did call it “The Bean” and that while it was beautiful, it just showed how important it was to think about how the public would perceive your work.
Now, as Samson perceived what he imagined might be the stupidest-looking building in Chicago, April looked up at the Aqua Tower with a bit of reverence. There was something about creative types like her, even pragmatic ones. They had something inside them that was ineffable, and it seemed to be moved whenever they interacted with other ineffables.
Samson rolled his eyes and waited. Their meetings wouldn’t officially begin until tomorrow, so the day was hers. Primarily so that she could see some of the architecture of the city first hand, but also because her story about her parents had impressed upon him how far someone could push themselves, even without the kind of basic support one ought to be able to count on.
“Okay,” April said patiently, “look how the plates curve there, and go flat there? And they circle the entire building?”
“It still doesn’t look like water to me.”
“It isn’t supposed to. It mimics the view of a rock formation.” Her hand moved back and forth, as her fingers traced the wave pattern of the tower. “See the outcroppings, then the shallows? And on the parts that stick out, residents have balconies. Plus, the design takes advantage of natural shading. They would never have built the balconies all around because people don’t have them next to every room anyway, but this way, the architects could merge an unusual aesthetic with functional design.”
Samson narrowed his eyes and then nodded his head slightly. “I suppose I see your point.”
“All right, we can go.”
“We don’t have to.”
“I can tell when someone is bored.” April patted his shoulder. “I promise that our designs will be both functional and pretty. Although I like this one, too.”
“You are merciful.”
Oddly, for all of his experience and time with women, he’d never simply spent the day with one. Not out of bed. Not without the agenda to get there. He took women to dinner, did some showing off, but Samson knew that April wouldn’t be very impressed by that kind of thing. He felt that he’d gotten to know her better during the weeks since Hutchinson got himself fired, and he truly came to enjoy the time they spent together—even just working in comfortable silence. April appreciated beautiful things, but eschewed waste. It was what made her a perfect designer.
They spent the afternoon looking at the major architectural hotspots: They rode up to the Skydeck of the Sears Tower, took in the folded glass front of the Spertus Institute, the “corncob” apartments of the Marina Towers. Normally, an architecture tour would not have been on Samson’s agenda for any city. He wouldn’t be there just to zip up and down tall buildings and stare at design choices that had been made decades ago. Taking the tour with April, though, made it entertaining. Not just because she enjoyed it, of course, but because he got to watch her get so excited; listen to her babble about the history of the city and the designers themselves.
“We can check out a few lesser-known spots sometime later in the week,” Samson suggested as they returned to the hotel.
“Oh, we don’t have to do that. I know that this is a business trip, and you need to focus.” April took a moment to look up at the structure of the Waldorf Astoria again. Samson could read little flickers of disappointment and appreciation as she deconstructed each piece carefully.
“I think I’ll do what I please with my down time.”
“I didn’t mean—” April frowned at him and raised a hand as though to swat him. “I know that. I just didn’t want to presume.”
“I’ll only offer what I can give you, April.” Samson stepped up to the door and held it for her before the doorman could grab it. “We will be in meetings for the most part. But don’t underestimate the social aspect of business. I’ll be meeting a few people for drinks later tonight. You’re welcome to join us for that, if you like.”
“I’m here to observe and um, consult, so whatever you need.” April walked into the lobby and her eyes went wide. She tilted her head back to look up at the vaulted ceilings and around at the marble sculptures. “But I can’t join in.”
“What do you mean? You’ll come, but you won’t talk?”
“I can’t drink.”
Samson approached the concierge’s desk. “Why not? AA?”
“Underage. I’m twenty.”
Samson stared at her for a moment. He had known that from her resume, but he hadn’t really thought about what that meant. April was a year younger than his baby sister. But Lana had been taking a glass of wine
at special occasions since she’d turned sixteen.
“I can order for you,” Samson said finally. “It won’t be a problem.”
April chewed on her lower lip and waited behind him. Did this make her feel insecure, being on such an important business trip so young? Samson smiled at the concierge and picked up their keycards and then turned back to her.
“Remember that I have you here because I need your expertise. Don’t let anyone make you feel as though you don’t belong. Including me.”
April’s lips parted, and she nodded quietly. “I’m the best at that, actually. Making me feel like I don’t belong.”