“This kid better be a MacArthur genius, considering how much they’ve made me throw up. Speaking of, I’m due for a cracker break.”

It was clear in just that small moment how much they cared about each other. I smiled and offered my congratulations, and—after a saltine break for Eleanor—we walked around the perimeter of the office.

“Okay, so the goal for the open floor plan and communal workspace is to warm it up but not overpower it,” I said as Eleanor and Hayes trailed behind me. “We play up the natural aesthetics of the building—the windows, the light, the wood—but add elements that make it more inviting, so you feel good as soon as you enter. Your employees and clients too.”

I glanced back to gauge their response. Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. Hayes’s face was unreadable; it was impossible to know if he hated everything I was saying or was just processing it all. But then our eyes connected, and instead of turning away from me, he smiled, brows raised, the kind of face someone gives to say “I like it. I’m impressed. Well done.”

It kicked something on inside me, sent my confidence whirring. “Hayes and I had a chance to talk about his own office a bit, and, Eleanor, I’d love to connect with you about your space.” I led us into the corner office he’d flagged as hers.

“The only thing I have to have are my pictures hanging somewhere,” she said.

“You’re a photographer?” I asked, wondering how much more impressive this already impressive woman would get.

“Amateur,” she said, “but way too into it. And I like to think I’m somewhat decent.”

She walked over to the wall, running her hand over the ridges of red brick. “I mostly photograph surfers,” she said. “The ocean. Beach towns.”

“So water, nature,” I mused, brainstorming.

“All that. Every time I’m near the water, I feel like I’m in my element.”

“You mean more than when you’re running a board meeting?” Hayes teased from behind me.

Eleanor snorted. “That’s enough, thank you,” she said, giving him the finger before turning back to me. “Hayes acts tough, but he cries watching Pixar movies.”

“Hey, just in Up,” he said defensively. Then to me, with a shrug, “When the wife dies.”

He turned, hands in pockets, but not before I could see the faint hint of color on his cheeks. I noticed this about him now; he played it cool, but something warmer was always lurking underneath. If he had been looking back at me, he would have seen me smiling in his direction.

Eleanor and I followed him out into the main area. “I think we can create a sophisticated and inviting space for you that’s very organic too,” I said.