Chapter One
The Window Desk
The man at Celia's new desk had arranged his pens by length, which suggested either a difficult morning or a difficult personality.
She paused in the doorway with a paper labyrinth under one arm and a bag slipping down the other. The labyrinth was a birthday prototype, the bag was for a fresh start, and the man was not mentioned in the agreement.
"Hello," she said. "You seem to have mistaken my beautiful new working life for a place to sit."
He looked up. Copper brown hair, a narrow face, pale freckles and a shirt the dark green of something expensive that lived at the bottom of a pond. His eyes travelled from her face to the labyrinth.
"Does that require its own chair?"
"It requires respect."
"Then we're both going to be disappointed."
His voice was pleasant. This was a nuisance. Celia had found unpleasant men much easier to remove from furniture.
She set the labyrinth on the left half of the desk. A paper tower leaned against his cup. He caught the tower before the cup could teach it a lesson.
"Thank you," she said, taking it. "Celia Verran. Window desk. Starting today."
"Emmett Rill. Window desk. Also today."
They produced their keys. The keys were identical, down to the lemon ribbon tied through each ring. Celia had spent the walk here interpreting hers as a sign that the universe approved of her new beginning. The universe, it appeared, had ordered in bulk.