He found his Camry. Dark blue, six years old, vaguely out of place among

the sprinkle of Mercedes and BMWs.

He got in, closed the door, reviewing the interview.

For about three minutes. Then, as he had about six times on the trip here, he

got out his phone and punched up the map.

The Garman Group was already listed with a gold star, south of his current

location.

He put the phone down and sighed. He hadn't texted Kate he was going to be

in Chicago for the interview. He didn't want her to think he was stalking her or

something. Or that he was looking at this job just to be near her.

He didn't want her to think that, but he wasn't so sure himself.

No, this was about his career. Just like she was working on her career. If he

didn't shake the branches, see what was out there, how would he ever know if

there wasn't something better?

He chewed the side of his tongue, nodding, thinking. Yes. How would he know?

Kate had even encouraged him to interview for the job.

He started the car, put it in gear, then touched an icon on his phone, setting it

face up on the console.

His map app chirped cheerily. “Twenty-six minutes to Garman Group.”

* * *

Kate sipped her coffee absentmindedly as she walked down the hall back to her

office, scanning notes in one hand. It was mid-Friday afternoon, but she still had a lot to do before she could head home. And not just the Nitrovex proposal.

Milly had informed her that morning that one of her previous clients wanted additional branding for their website.

She pushed open her door with her foot, still studying the notes. By next Thursday? No way…

The harsh grind of an electric pencil sharpener jolted her gaze up. There, sitting at her desk, in her chair, was Peter.

“I used to have one of these,” he said, examining the point of a newly sharpened pencil as if it were a diamond. “Then a student thought he'd stick a pen in it.” He looked up, smiling.

She almost dropped her mug. “Oh, geez! What in the world are you doing here?”

He was wearing a crisp button-down white shirt that hugged his wide

shoulders, and a thin striped purple tie. She moved to the desk, dropping her papers on the corner. Coffee could wait, and she didn't need the caffeine anymore, anyway. Her heart was beating overtime.

He stood, walked to the windows, putting his hands on the ledge. “Just came

to see how the other half lives. Nice view. Are those real live pigeons?”

Her heart was still flip-flopping. Peter? Here? “What…did Milly let you in?”

He turned, his eyes dancing, and nodded. “Nice girl. Slipped her a five to let

me sit in your chair. Very comfortable. I like that lumbar-support thing.”

She joined him at the window, knees still a little wobbly. Peter, here. In her

office. She looked around quickly. Was it a mess? No, not too bad. How was her

hair? She should have worn her new Michael Kors dress…

“Sorry, I should have called,” he said.

“Yes, I think so,” she said, but not angrily.

He folded his arms. “But, I thought, I was in town anyway, so why not stop by?”

Yes, why not? But also, why?

He turned to his right and pulled something out of a small, white paper bag

sitting on the window ledge. “I brought you a present.” He held it out in the palm of his hand.

It was a snow globe.

The gold etching on the base said “Welcome to Golden Grove.” Tiny brick

houses in a row on a brick-lined street, miniature and picture perfect. And instead of snow, orange and yellow leaves swirled in the sunlight reflected through the window. He probably had picked it up at Bailey's; they had dozens

there for tourists.

She shook it. The leaves spun like a miniature tornado. If she'd had time for

metaphors, she would have called it her heart, but, oh, please.

“Thanks,” she said, looking up.