Chapter Six

I was just arriving back in the city by train. I had been designing a cafeteria for Newberry College in Upstate New York. Julian had relegated these jobs to me because of the limited budget and vision. My vision had never been hampered by the scope of these projects. I actually enjoyed designing for school cafeterias. I incorporated my own sensibilities and experiences. I always tried to find an interesting place for a single person to eat that would be cozy and visibly interesting to somehow keep them company if they were lonely. Presentation and beauty always guided me. It didn’t matter if it was in the halls of academia or a hot New York nightclub. Beauty should surround you.

February had thrown her dark and frigid cloak over the city. I expected Julian to be long gone when I arrived at the office. His light was on. I still hadn’t given him the piece of paper tendering my resignation. We had been so busy.

I poked my head in Julian’s office. He was having his customary glass of chardonnay. If it was a yawn past 5 o’clock, his wine glass would be full.

“You’re back. Come in. Would you like a glass?” I sat down across from him and declined. I debated whether to give him my letter of resignation.

“We have a lot of things to discuss,” he began, retrieving a second glass and ignoring me.

“I’m listening.” Julian and I had always had a playful banter, but I deeply respected him.

“Where do I begin? You and I were nominated for an IDA Design Award for BLANC,” he started. BLANC was Henry and Griffin’s second restaurant. It opened just a few months ago. It was a breakfast and lunch spot. My brother’s date-nut scones were a piping hot shrine dedicated to butter and sugar. I had never had a scone that came anywhere close. He received countless requests for his carrot cakes with toasted pecans and coconut. Pair any of those with one of Griffin’s cappuccinos and you’re done. I would never be ashamed of eating cake for breakfast. Especially Henry’s. It was one of life’s grandest pleasures.

“And you have been nominated for an individual IDA for the standout work you did at Quincy College. And I haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Maybe I will have a little wine,” I said, suddenly feeling celebratory. Julian continued.

“You, my dear Bailey, have been nominated for a 40 Under 40 award from New York Magazine, and let me get this right: for your aesthetic, creativity, and originality.” I leapt up from the chair. This was one of those career achievements I had been striving for. “Now is not the time to be stingy with that wine.” We toasted and I sat back down. Julian paused a moment. He knew this was a big deal for me. His office may be littered with awards the way a kitchen may be littered with dishes at the end of the night, but he was very generous, and he knew that if I looked good, he looked even better.