Deena blinked.

"What's wrong with you? What are you doing?"

She looked around. Prayer was over, and if the sight of Deacon Moore resting in his seat was any indication, it had been for some time. Deena looked down at her hands, clutching the pew in a white-knuckled grip and blushed.

"I-I don't know. I had something on my mind."

"Well, whatever it was it looked pretty d.a.m.ned good."

Deena looked away. "Shut up. And stop swearing."

Reverend Lincoln was a short and slight figure with a black beak of a nose and a voice that bellowed in the rafters. He'd been a friend of Grandpa Eddie's and shared a platoon with him in Vietnam.

When the reverend found the pulpit, he cleared his throat, adjusted his reading gla.s.ses and instructed the congregation to turn to First Corinthians, Chapter 6, Verses 9-11. With a hand to her mouth, Deena stifled a giggle at the horrible irony of him choosing one of Grandpa Eddie's favorite pa.s.sages.

"Do ye not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of G.o.d?" Reverend Lincoln gave them a hard look. "Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor h.o.m.os.e.xuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of G.o.d."

He looked up, his gaze falling on the front pew, the Hammond pew.

"And such were some of you."

At the end of the service, the congregation spilled out onto the sidewalk. With their exit Grandma Emma turned a glare on Deena.

"Your mind was not on the Lord's word today."

Deena shrunk back. "I-I have a lot going on right now. With work."

"Mhm. Jus' so longs as you keeping the Lord's work on your mind, too, namely this here fellowship hall. You wasn't at the last two meetings we had to discuss it. Reckon cause you was in New York."

Deena hesitated. "About that, Grandma. You guys are-are going to have to find someone else."

"What you mean 'someone else?' You the only one in the church that knows-"

"I understand that. But I just started this new project at work and I have to devote all my effort to it. I can't be distracted with this."

She was drawing the reverend's attention and a few others, including Cicely Williams and her mother Mabel. Already, her family, including Aunt Caroline and Aunt Rhonda, were by her side.

"Chile, what you mean 'distraction?' I know-"

Deena held up a hand to stop her. "I'd be more than happy to give the church a referral, but I can't do this. I won't do this."

Her grandmother stared and her Aunt Caroline asked her who the h.e.l.l she thought she was. Meanwhile, Deena dug out her phone and sent Tak a message.

Don't want 2 wait 2 see U.

After service, she was supposed to help with dinner at Grandma Emma's house.

But his response came quick.

Be there in half.

She looked up again, a smile broadening her face. "Oh, and uh, I made other plans for dinner."

Lizzie grinned. "Me, too. I've got other plans too."

Deena shot her a look of warning before waving good-bye to the family, though she doubted they noticed. She then started off for the two-block hike in pumps to the Starbucks where Tak would meet her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

She could hear them at the water cooler, talking as if she wasn't there, Whispering and giggling as if she didn't matter. There were two of them this time, but there'd been others at other times. The ones who didn't partic.i.p.ate weren't exactly casual spectators either, as they sat around their tables in the break room, laughing and beaming with pleasure.

Jennifer Swallows stood, arms folded over her ma.s.sive bosom. She had a round and scowling face, pitted and lean-lipped; her nose a quick beak. She wore drab grays and dull darks over an otherwise dumpy frame. If her bullet point b.r.e.a.s.t.s were any indication, Deena guessed the bra she wore was as old as her career.

"I'm telling you, it's some huge housing development venture. It's going to be a private subdivision in Brickell. And that's after she disappeared for a month." Jennifer shot Deena a contemptuous look and Deena froze, tuna rye halfway to her lips.

"It's on Fisher Island, Jen. Only one of the wealthiest zip codes in the nation." Walter Smith said. A bright-eyed and pet.i.te architect, he prided himself on an unscrupulous sense of fashion.

"It's not Fisher Island it's Brickell. And at twenty-four years old," another look from Jennifer, more sinister than the last.

Walter fished in the pocket of his charcoal slacks and came away with loose change. Jennifer followed him to the vending machine as he made his selection.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" he said. "The sort of talents a girl has to have to land a gig like that. Architecture aside, of course."

"Of course."

Deena colored.

A smattering of laughter echoed through the break room and Walter flashed an innocent, yet pleased smile. But when Daichi entered, the room silenced.

He made a beeline for Deena.

"Stop eating."

Deena froze, sandwich in hand. They had the attention of the room. The whole room.

"What's wrong, Daichi?"

"I had no idea you took lunch so early." He frowned at his watch. "In any case, I've made reservations at Del Mar. We can start-"

"Del Mar!" Walter cried.

A forbidding sort of silence penetrated the room. Daichi turned on Walter and silenced the distance between them.

"You've an objection, Mr. Smith?"

Automatically, Walter took a step back. "No, sir. It's just-well, with all due respect-"

"Please. Such preambles are contrived and insincere. Do not impose on my time by subjecting me to one."

"Well, o.k. I just wanted to say-well, everyone wants to say, really-"

"Everyone?" Daichi scanned the break room. With better than twenty architects present, he found that only Deena would look at him.

"Has there been an election, Walter? Are you now an elected representative?"

"No, sir. I just-"

"My patience wears thin."

"Sir, does seniority not play a part in your decisions? I've been with this company for seven years and-"

"Please, I've not the apt.i.tude for company politics. If you've a direct statement please make it at this time."

"Alright, fine," Walter's slight chest swelled with the deep breath he took.

"I would like to say that I think you could've picked someone more qualified to a.s.sist you on the Skylife project. Someone who knows more than her. Someone who doesn't take unauthorized vacations for weeks at a stretch."

Deena swallowed.

"I see." Daichi scanned the room. "Who feels that they would've been better suited for this project?"

Slowly, all hands went up.

"I see," he repeated. Briefly, Daichi scanned the mutineers with interest. He then turned to their elected representative. "Walter! Tell me this. What are the three principles of firmitatis utilitatis venustatis that all good buildings must satisfy?"

"I beg your pardon sir?"

"Deena?"

She leapt to her feet.

"Yes, Daichi?"

"The three principles. Name them."

"Durability, utility and beauty, sir."

Daichi brushed past Walter, his eyes fell on a lean and gray-haired peer.

"You. Give us a common interpretation of Islamic architecture."

The gray haired man blinked. "Islamic, you say?"

"Deena!"

"The repeating themes in Islamic architecture commonly evoke Allah's infinite power and suggest infinity."

Daichi moved quickly, to a long and raw-boned man with blonde hair and small eyes. "Hudson. Criticisms of sustainable architecture. Now."

"Sir I wasn't aware that-"

"Deena."

She fired off automatically."Sustainable architecture isn't a discipline within our field exclusively, but a concern for the construction industry as a whole."

Daichi turned on Jennifer Swallows, eyes daring her to so much as move. "Shall I question you as well, or was the humiliation of your ignorant peers sufficient enough?"

"More than sufficient, thank you."

Daichi nodded and turned on his audience, smiling broadly. "There now pupils, not so grim,. You've earned more fodder for your rumor mill. Now, you and your peers can speculate as to how long you'll be gainfully employed."

With a nod towards Deena, Daichi exited a deathly silent break room. She tossed her sandwich and scurried after him, careful not to look back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

They met at the close of each day to discuss her progress on Skylife. In the early stages, these meetings ran only until dinner, with Daichi questioning or making suggestions and Deena sitting, pen in hand, eager to lap up his thoughts. But as the year progressed, and her dream team a.s.sembled-Hudson, Marshall and even Mahmoud-their meetings grew longer and took on an altogether different tone.

"Your design has been garnering quite a bit of excitement," Daichi said, his eyes on Deena as she scooped pad thai from the take-out container they shared.

"So I've heard."

"People are saying it's where eco-friendly will finally meet opulence."

Deena rolled her eyes. "Eco-friendly is a vague and commercialized term with no real value. And even if it weren't," she paused to brush bits of crushed peanuts aside with her chopsticks. "It would be an inherent contradiction."

"The best architecture in the world is contradictory, Deena."

He paused long enough to place food in his mouth, chew and swallow. "Have you prepared the briefs on site selection yet?"

Deena nodded. "I have a clear favorite, but of course, the choice is yours." She pushed aside a stack of papers on his desk, reached into her briefcase and handed him the briefing.

"And your favorite is?"